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jxtina-86 · 3 years ago

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Simple Things

The perfect Saturday - his girl, their couch, their bed, their life. It's the simple things that really matter. DeanAmbrose/OC

A/N: This is the first Dean Ambrose fic I ever wrote and it was initially a one-off but after minimal persuasion, I developed it into part of the bigger series that I've previously posted. In this story, the OC is nameless but she was eventually named Rebecca. This takes place deep into their relationship, but I will post the prequels to this over the coming days/weeks. I just felt like it was kind of right to post on here in the same way I did originally. See here for the rest of the series/order to read.

Warnings: Smut/Language

Rating: MA

Lyrics are taken from Simple Things by Miguel

She said, I don't want a model I don't want a movie star You don't have to win the lotto I just want you to win my heart

She hums as she potters around the kitchen, the cuffs of her silk pyjama pants rustling across the floor. As she stretches to open a cupboard, her loose-fitting shirt rises up, exposing the small of her back to my gaze. Setting two mugs down, she stretches and runs a hand through her bed hair. She plucks the band from her wrist and pulls her hair up into a messy knot. I cock my head to the side as I take in the curve of her neck, smirking to myself as I notice the dark mark on her fair skin; my handiwork from last night.

Fuck, she was on fire, her body responding to my every touch, her voice urging me on as I rammed into her over and over again. She cupped the back of my head, twisting her mouth to mine as my hands slid down her sweat-ridden body and gripped her thighs as she came. And then I bit that spot on her neck as I slammed into her one last time. She giggled softly as I let her fall forward, my hand squeezing her ass before she could squirm out of reach. She wrapped the covers around us, cocooning us in our own little bubble as she pushed my hair, slick with exertion, back from my forehead and her lips brushed across my hot skin.

I never thought in my wildest dreams that she'd be everything I wanted and more. Sometimes she knows what I want even before I do. She's my little psychic and I wouldn't change her for the world. Whilst others did their best to mould me into their ideal boyfriends, she takes me for who I am. She didn't bat an eyelid when I took her for our first date at some dive bar, despite her being dressed to the fucking nines because I'm an idiot and didn't realise that perhaps a restaurant might have been a better setting. But the second I opened my mouth to change our plans, she shook her head. And then she wiped the floor with me at pool, her ass wiggling in the air as she bent over the table in her short dress and heels.

She makes me want to work so fucking hard at this. And it is hard. It's insanely difficult to balance my life with her and my life on the road, but she's worth every second of anxiety and fear and struggle. Even if it's just so I can hear her voice on the end of the phone before I fall asleep. I crave those little moments, her soft voice floating over the airwaves from hundreds of miles away. It lulls me into a world where my body doesn't ache and my mind isn't racing. She makes it feel like she's right next to me, her head nestled under my chin, her fingers tracing patterns over my arms.

As the kettle boils, I make my move, stalking across the kitchen and sliding my arms around her waist. Her body jerks in surprise.

“Thought you were asleep,” she says as her hands slide over mine.

“Bed was cold.”

“Shame... I was looking forward to waking you up.” She lets her words hang in the air, shaking her head as I grip her a little tighter. My loose basketball shorts do nothing to hide how badly I wish I was still in bed, waiting for her wake up call.

“Well, I'm all for a little role play, darlin'”

“Behave,” she scolds as she pours water into each mug. She slides one mug to the side, gesturing for me to take it. Turning to face me, she cups her own mug and blows softly to cool the hot liquid inside. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

She rolls her eyes. “You're insatiable.”

“Scared you can't handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it, big boy,” she purrs, dropping her gaze and then looking back up at me through her eyelashes. “Question is, can you handle me?”

I brush my finger over her cheek as I lower my mouth to hers. “Certainly did last night.”

“Only because I let you.”

I pause, my eyes on her bottom lip which is slowly disappearing between her teeth. “Is that so?”

“And you love it.”

She isn't wrong and she knows it, waggling her eyebrows at me as I exhale slowly. She takes the opportunity to push me out of her space so she can squeeze past and head towards the lounge. I stand there for a second, gathering my thoughts before I grab my own mug and follow her.

She flops onto the couch, stretching her legs out across its length. I watch as she arranges the cushions around her and pads down the folds of the blankets for the TV remote. The entire couch is a mess; she was curled up half asleep on it when I arrived home last night. I sneaked in, closing the apartment door as quietly as possible, carrying my suitcase so as not to wake her with the wheels on the hard floor. I watched her dozing for a few minutes before I joined her and then the rest, as they say, is history. I chuckle softly as she unearths her panties from the blankets.

“Seriously?” she holds them aloft.

“I ain't seen you in almost two weeks, darlin'. Can you really blame me?”

She tosses them at me and I catch them with my free hand and make a show of stuffing them into my shorts' pocket. She draws her legs up slightly, making room for me at the end of the couch. As I sit, her feet move to my lap and she gently digs her toes into my thighs.

With the remote in hand, she flicks on the TV and starts to make her way through a dozen or so channels before she settles. But my attention is anywhere but the TV. Taking a big swig of coffee, I set my mug down and pull her feet into my hands. She hums appreciatively as I focus on one then the other, rotating my thumbs into the balls of her feet, working down to the arch and then back up again. She wiggles her toes and then giggles softly as I tug at each one with my finger and thumb. I slide my hand down and over her ankle, twisting my wrist over it and squeezing gently. Her eyes flicker shut for a second and then she's back, staring at the TV as I continue, my hand moving up under her pants so I can trail my fingers over her shin and then her calf, feeling the muscle tense at my touch.

Yeah, she said I just want someone true She said, I just wanted someone to, smoke with me babe And lay with me babe And laugh with me babe I just want the simple things

As much as I would love to pull her back into bed with me and spend the rest of the day twisting her tight little body into all kinds of sordid positions, I can definitely see the attraction of this. Just being with her is a luxury in itself. Being a normal couple on a Saturday morning is a rare gift and I'm more than happy to savour the moment with her. For years, I spent my free time on my own or with one of many nameless faces that eventually just blur into one. I would shake my head as Reigns and Rollins headed back to their girlfriends, whilst I'd head back to sin city and spend 24 hours in a blur of beer, tequila and women.

I couldn't understand what the attraction was. I couldn't understand how they resisted temptation daily. I couldn't understand how they could commit themselves to one person. I couldn't understand the small smiles that crossed their faces whenever they received a text or phone call from their significant others.

How the tables have turned. I turn away the rats, commit myself to her and only her and take the grief from my brothers when my own damn face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree whenever her name graces my cellphone screen. What a difference a year makes. So maybe at first, it wasn't great. But there was something about her that made me determined to see this through from start to well... I hope it never ends.

She has the patience of a saint; dealing with me on a regular basis isn't easy. I'm me and I struggle sometimes. I never told her how hard it was at first. I was in a different mindset back then. I was constantly torn between intrigue and temptation. Even with her. On our first date, I took her back to her apartment and she refused to let me up. I didn't ask outright, but there was something in her attitude that told me it was a no-go. I said my goodbyes and then I stood in the street, wondering what to do next. It was still early and there were a dozen bars to pass on my way home. Temptation lay in every one.

But I made it back home without a drop of alcohol passing my lips or the taste of another woman on my tongue.

After the second date, she invited me up. We made out for what felt like hours, my hips desperately rutting against hers as I showed her exactly what I wanted and how. But she pushed me out the door before things could escalate. Still, I made it home without dropping the ball.

All hell broke loose on the third date. We'd been out for the day and I had spent the entire time mesmerised by the exposed skin of her back; she wore a floor-length dress, the back of which was made of thin straps that criss-crossed over her fair skin from her shoulder blades, right down to the small of her back. I couldn't spy a bra strap and that thought made my mouth go dry. But it was like she was completely unaware of her effect on me. It wasn't just the way she looked, it was the way she made me think and laugh. The way she actually seemed to listen to what I had to say as well. She wasn't looking at me with dollar signs in her eyes. She didn't look at me like I was some sort of conquest, a notch in her bedpost. And I hoped that despite my desperation to have her, that she realised that in turn, she wasn't just a number to me either.

As we walked towards her apartment, I was torn. As much as I wanted tonight to finally be my night, there was something else building up inside me. I half-wished that she'd refuse me again, so I could prove to myself yet again to my doubters, so I could prove that I could be the man who waited rather than fall back into my selfish playboy ways. I didn't want to be selfish, not with her. I wanted to prove that I was worthy of her time and affection. She paused at the door and to this day, I swear there was a flicker of doubt on her face before she steadied herself and without another word, led me upstairs. My mouth was on hers before we even reached her third-floor apartment. The second the door slammed behind us, her hands were tearing the shirt from my back as we tripped and bumped our way across the hallway, lounge and finally, into her bedroom. I remember her pushing me back onto the bed, hiking her dress up and clambering over me. I sought out her legs under the material, groaning into her mouth as my hands moved higher, my fingertips brushing against her panties. Her hands joined forces with mine as we pulled the dress from her body.

She was beautiful. She is beautiful. My breath catches in my throat every time I look at her. That first night together was no exception, only the beginning. I held her to me, my eyes roving over every inch of her body, drinking her in. I watched as a pink blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck as I just stared. And when I whispered my admiration, she couldn't look me in the eye. I had to grip her chin between my finger and thumb for her to meet my gaze and agree with me. She was the perfect combination of passive and aggressive. She had no problem with me crawling over her body, holding her just so and pushing her from one extreme to another. But when she wanted something, she knew how to take it, her hand guiding me, showing me exactly what she craved and not letting up until her desires were fulfilled.

Smoke with me babe And laugh with me baby And lay with me baby Cause I just want the simple things

Nothing has changed since. I still stop breathing whenever I catch her in a new light. And our dynamic between the sheets is the same, if not more perfect. We've explored and pushed each other to our limits, both mentally, physically and emotionally. We've had our ups and downs, arguments and makeup sessions that have blurred into one. We've shared frustration at the time we spend apart and the joy when we're reunited, even if just for a brief 24 hours. The days when she comes on the road with me are the best. The fact that I get to nestle into her embrace every night for a couple of days in a row is something I will never ever take for granted. I am truly blessed.

Yet she is still she and I am still me. We haven't forced the other to change. But change is only a natural progression when two people come together and merge their lives into one. I can't begin to imagine how I would function without her. I don't know how I managed that long before she came along. I feel like my life was a waste before her. I wish our paths had crossed sooner. But hey, better late than never.

My fingers are still running patterns up and down her legs and feet. Her gaze is still on the TV, but her eyes are glazed and I wonder what she's thinking about. It's a daily obsession of mine – to know what's going on in that head of hers. I want to know everything she thinks, feels, wants, needs. I want it to be what I think, feel, want, need. I want to share everything with her and vice versa. And we do. We honestly do, but I'm insatiable as she always tells me and I always want just a little bit more.

But more is what she gives me. She gave me more every time we went on a date. And even when I think she can't give anything else, she does. And I give her everything I have in return. I've exposed my fucking soul to her, told her my deepest, darkest secrets, fears and desires and she still wants me. She loves me for who I am.

I squeeze her ankle again and her gaze turns to me in response.

“C'mere,” I say, tugging at her leg.

She pulls herself up and shuffles along the couch until I can slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. The blanket has come with her and she makes a fuss of arranging it around the both of us, her legs curled underneath her. My fingers brush through the loose strands of hair around her neck and I feel her shiver as I graze her skin. I let my thumb softly rub at the mark on her neck.

“You're proud of that, aren't you?” she murmurs.

“Yup,” I grin down at her. “You were fucking begging for me to do it last night. I was just following your orders.”

“And if I ordered you do jump out the window, would you?” she teases.

Reigns and Rollins would probably ask the same. They've taken such pleasure in my new state of mind. I guess I'm now fair game after all these years. But I know that both of them would do anything for their girls and I'm no exception. I would do anything she asked. I would do anything to protect her, keep her safe. I would do anything to make her happy and proud.

Her head nestles onto my shoulder and I turn to brush my lips over her hair. It tickles my nose and I raise my hand to smooth the strands. She lets out a low sigh as I do, her penchant for having her hair played with one of the first intimate things I ever learnt about her. I ease my fingers through, loosening her hair from the band and letting thick locks fall around her face and neck. I take a handful in my fist and twist gently, easing her head back so I can lower my mouth to hers.

A quiet moan rumbles between us and I'm actually unsure which one of us it came from, my hand tangling in her hair as I tug her head further back so I can deepen the kiss, my tongue seeking entrance to her mouth. She lets me in and now I'm sure of the groan that comes from deep in my chest as I explore her warm mouth. I feel her hand run up my arm, her fingers rubbing small circles over my biceps which have instinctively tensed, ready to manoeuvre her when the mood's right. But I know we're not moving from this couch for a long time; we're settled in for the long haul and it's lazy kisses and touches that will fill the rest of the morning.

I just want you Yeah, yeah I want you Yeah, yeah

I said, No I don't need a model I don't need a debutant Just be a tough act to follow You know, a free spirit, with a wild heart Alright, I said I just want someone real, someone true

A hand slides around my waist, lips pressing against my shoulder. I raise my arm and she ducks under, snuggling into me as I watch bacon sizzle. Her hair is damp from her shower, as is mine. She takes the longest showers in the world, hogging the hot stream of water much to my annoyance. Showering together is nigh on impossible, so I jumped in first and then left her standing under the showerhead, eyes closed, letting the water cascade over her head.

Her arms hug me tight as I turn each rasher. Warm waffles are sitting ready next to the stove, as is a pile of paper towels for draining. As I pick up each slice of bacon and set them aside, she's already rummaging through the cupboard for the maple syrup. We carry plates back to the couch and this time, she immediately curls against me as we eat.

She smacks her lips in satisfaction and murmurs her thanks as the plate is set down. I watch her tongue dart out to lick her soft lips clean of sugar and crumbs and she catches my eye. Her actions deliberately slow and I'm left with my fork of waffle and bacon hovering halfway between my plate and mouth.

“Tease,” I mutter as she grins.

“I learnt from the best.”

“Hmm,” is all I can muster in return, chewing my final mouthful.

“Aww, don't be mad.” She takes my plate and sets it aside before she cups the back of my head and pulls me to her. “Y'know I always follow through in the end.”

Her lips are sweet and I know she speaks the truth. I'm far crueller when I tease her. I drag it out for as long as possible, mainly because there's something about the way her voice changes when she's on the edge that makes my heart soar and my dick harden. It's purely for self-indulgence but it's worth it in the end, to see her face scrunched up in ecstasy. Her teasing is far more tactical. She knows exactly how to make me come undone, but she too will take her sweet time. But she gives in easily and it only takes a few seconds of my begging and panting for her to ease me to my own climax.

She pulls back, resting her head back on my shoulder. I shift in my seat, grimacing slightly as a familiar twinge flickers in my back.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice full of concern as she catches the look on my face.

She's always had this knack of picking up on the smallest of movements and gestures. Not just with me, but with everyone. Her intuition is electric like she's in-tune with me. As if every pain that crosses through me, she feels as well; her mind and body completely in sync with my own.

“I took a knock the other night...” I mumble.

“You didn't tell me.”

“I take knocks every night, darlin'.” I shrug my shoulders, but that only seems to intensify the knot of pain.

She eases away from me, her face full of concern as I twist one way and then the other to relieve the pain.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Just below my shoulder blades. Shit,” I curse as I feel the tension beginning to spread.

I said I just want someone'll Smoke with me baby And lay with me baby Laugh with me baby girl I just want the simple things

She scoots back even further, twisting her finger in the air, a sign for me to turn my back towards her. I shift slowly into position for her and exhale shakily as I feel her hands caress my back. They slide up over my shoulders, her finger seeking out knots that have been there for days. Her fingers slowly release them and my head rocks forward at the sensation. She moves further south, her hands working fucking miracles as inch by inch she moves closer to the source of the pain. She starts softly, warily, but soon hits her stride with pressure and speed. I groan as she hits the epicentre of the pain and I feel her back off slightly.

“No... Keep going.”

“You sure? I don't want to hurt you.”

I glance over my shoulder. “I'm made of strong stuff, darlin'”

She gives me a small smile as the pressure increases again and I close my eyes and try to breathe.

“You should have taken it easy...” she murmurs.

“In the ring?”

She chuckles. “No. Last night.”

“What about last night?”

“I could have taken care of it.”

Her hands drop from my back and then slide around my waist as I feel her press her chest against me. Her lips press warm kisses to my shoulder blades, moving to my scar and trailing the tip of her tongue over it.

“You were tired.”

“So were you,” she counters. “Yet somehow...”

I shake my head. “If you're insinuating that me carrying you from here to bed last night has something to do with my back hurting now...”

“More like when you decided to stop halfway and fuck me against the door.”

I smirk. I had her arms above her head, pinning her against the door with my upper body, whilst I thrust into her. I concede that perhaps that wasn't the best thing for my back. But at the same time, I wasn't exactly thinking straight.

“What would you have done? If you'd been awake enough to offer any counter,” I tease over my shoulder, yelping quietly as she nips the tip of the scar. “You continue like that...”

“Don't leave me hanging, big boy,” she breathes into my ear.

“I believe I asked you first.”

Her teeth nip at my earlobe, tugging it for a second before she speaks. “Why tell you, when I can show you?”

Holy fuck. My cock starts to throb as she giggles, her arms squeezing my waist.

“Cat got your tongue?” she whispers. “Not like you to be left speechless... You've always got a word for every occasion. Even when we're fucking, you just don't shu-”

I don't let her finish, spinning around and pulling her onto my lap in a split second, my mouth crashing against hers. Back pain be damned. I can feel her triumphant smile as I kiss her and it only spurs me on. I rake a hand through her hair, tugging her head back so my mouth slips to her neck and I listen to the throaty moans that escape her lips as I adorn her neck with sharp bites and kisses. Her hands grip my head, her nails scratching my scalp as she holds me to her. With my free hand, I pull her legs around my waist and start to stand. Her legs lock as I carry her blindly towards the bedroom.

“De-an,” she whines. “I said this was my turn.”

I drop her on the bed and take a step back to start to shed my shorts. “Don't worry, darlin'. I'm counting on it.”

Her eyes light up and she crawls towards me, beckoning me to the edge of the bed so that her hands can cover mine as she helps to tug my shorts down. She rises to her knees and I lean down to kiss her hard before she pulls back and places hot kisses across my shoulders and then down to my chest. Her fingertips graze my thighs and I take a shaky breath as I feel them edge higher. My eyes flicker closed as I feel her hand slowly wrap around my cock. Her thumb brushes over the tip before she drags her fist lazily up and down as her mouth reaches my stomach. I feel her shift down, sitting on the edge of the bed before she squeezes firmly at the base of my cock and keeps her grip hard and firm as she makes her way back to the tip.

She nudges me back a step, moving to the floor in front of me. I look down at her through hazy eyes and my stomach flinches as I see her press her lips one last time to my hip bone, her focus shifting to my cock, inches from her mouth. She takes her time, her fist doing all the work as she watches beads of pre-cum starting to form at the tip. She glances up and opens her mouth into a small 'O' as I roughly push the hair back from her face, scooping it into a fist so I have a clear view of her. She lowers her mouth to the tip of my cock, her pouty lips wrapping around the hard flesh as she traces her tongue along the sensitive slit and then presses it flat along the underside as she takes more of me into her warm, wet mouth.

Smoke with me baby Lay with me baby Laugh with me baby I just want the simple things

I groan loudly, as she keeps pumping her fist between the base and her mouth. Her tongue swirls around my length, lapping at the thick vein and making my knees tremble. I watch her the whole time, her eyes flickering closed and open at steady intervals to meet my gaze as she moves her hand away to take me fully into her mouth. My grip on her hair tightens as she does and I can't help but urge her on, forcing the final inch past her lips.

“Fuck,” is all I can grunt out as she settles one hand on my thigh and the other on my ass, using alternate pressure to push and pull me in and out of her mouth. Her cheeks hollow as she increases her suction, knowing exactly what to do and when to make me lose my fucking mind. Her face is flushed, her eyes glassy as she slowly gives me the power to take over, her hands a little less forceful, my hips bucking at their own pace as I fuck her mouth.

She moans softly, the vibrations making me flinch and lose my rhythm for a split second. A split second that she takes full advantage of, pulling me from her mouth, my cock slick with her saliva. A thin strand hangs between the tip and her bottom lip as she uses her hand to keep the action going.

“Did I say you could stop?” I rasp out. She shakes her head and opens her mouth again, this time letting me guide myself back in. I push her hand away and fist my cock, rubbing the tip over her lips first and then pushing my way back into her mouth.

I thrust into her mouth a few more times, just for the sensation, the power of gripping her head and holding her just so. My vision starts to blur as I take in her stretched lips, her flushed face and wide eyes that gleam up at me full of lustful innocence. It's a well-tuned game and she knows exactly what I want to see, what I need and desire to get me off.

But I'll be damned if she's going to finish me like this. She has plenty of other ways to take care of me and I'm not missing out on that. I pull her back by her hair and she fucking whimpers as I slide from her mouth.

“Darilin', we got plenty of time for you to suck me dry later,” I whisper gruffly as I pull her to her feet. “Right now though, I'm collecting on what I was promised.”

She grins, tugging her shirt over her head and dropping it to the floor. I move my hands to her waist, nudging down her pants, groaning as I realise she hasn't put on panties. My fingers slide between her legs.

“Babe, you're fucking dripping.” I pull her fingers away and raise them to my lips but her hand wraps around my wrist and she pulls them towards her own mouth. She sucks them hard, her eyes fluttering closed as she tastes herself.

“Mmm,” she moans, releasing my hand. “Lie on the bed, big boy.”

She gives me a gentle nudge and I move to the bed, shifting back on the crumpled sheets, my hand on my cock as I watch her crawl over me. She drops her head to mine, her lips crashing against mine as she straddles me. My cock slides against her wetness as I thrust my hips up to push into her. But she pulls herself away, hovering above me, balanced on my knees. She shakes her head with a small smile as she straightens and presses her hands to my chest as she lowers herself onto me at her own pace.

I groan as her warm wetness surrounds my length, her pussy like a fucking vice. She's biting her lip, her eyes half-closed as she slides to the hilt and then pauses. I throb inside her, my hands skimming over her thighs and up to her hips, squeezing them and silently begging for her to move. One of her hands moves to my thigh, tugging it up and I know exactly what she wants. I bend my knees and plant my feet solidly on the bed. My thighs stick to her back, rocking her slightly forward and she whimpers at the sensation. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, she starts to move up and down. Her hands brush the hair from her face and then sink down to grope her tits.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous,” I grunt as I watch her thumb and forefinger tweak her nipples into hard buds. She grinds down harder in response, a soft moan tumbling from her lips as my cock brushes over a particularly sensitive spot inside her.

Her fingers are vicious with their pinches and her nipples are long and red when she finally drops her hands to run over her stomach and then over my hands. She moves them to her thighs, squeezing them so that I dig my fingers into her flesh. Her hips thrust back and forth with purpose and I can tell by the hitch in her breath that she's getting to herself.

I shift my feet closer to my legs, pushing her body closer to me and earning a loud moan in the process. She stretches her arms, leaning forward to grip the bed frame. Her tits hover over my mouth, swaying deliciously close with each of her thrusts. I can't resist, bracing my arms on the bed and gripping her thighs hard so that I can move my head up and she hisses as my mouth engulfs her nipple.

“Shit, Dean...”

I tug it between my lips, then release it to swirl my tongue over it and the surrounding area, my nose brushing over the soft flesh as I take it back into my mouth and nip lightly with my teeth. I can feel her walls tighten around me as I do and I take the opportunity to start meeting her thrusts with my own.

“Fuck!”

I nip at her nipple one last time before I let it fall from my mouth and roughly push her back against my legs. Her hands land on my chest to balance herself as I pump into her.

“Touch yourself,” I tell her hoarsely. “Touch yourself, I wanna see you cum, darlin'.”

I just want you Look at me baby, I just want you You, I want you baby You alright I just want you, you

One hand falls between her legs, her fingers seeking out her clit, whilst the other claims one of her tits, the fingers imitating her movements below. Her head rocks back and it takes all my strength to not cum right now with her. No fucking way is this ending now. I want her to cum and I want her to cum hard. And then I want to throw her onto the bed and fuck her until she screams my name.

But that's later. Right now, I'm caught up in watching her bring herself to the edge of the precipice. She has complete control over her own release and I love watching how she teases herself. So many times have I watched her through a cellphone screen, watched her fingers dance over her clit, stroke her inner thighs and tease her pussy lips. She pushes herself right there and then pulls away, feeling the waves of anticipation wash over her. And she'll do it again and again until she's fucking hollering and thrashing on the bed. Once I got her to finger herself in the shower, her chest pressed against the wall, her head to the side. Eyes closed, she pushed herself into fucking oblivion and I had to stop jerking off to catch her as her knees buckled. We tumbled to the floor and it was a good minute before she recovered enough to tell me she was okay.

She's doing the same now. I can feel her walls clenching around me as she nears climax and then they relax as she eases off.

“You teasing yourself again, huh?” I whisper. “Just in your nature, isn't it, baby? You tease me, you tease yourself... You gonna make yourself scream, huh? Let's see who can make you scream louder, you or me...”

Her face scrunches up, her wrist jerking sharply as she presses her fingers against her clit and then settles back to fast circles.

“Keep going...” I tell her. “Darlin'... C'mon... I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

I squeeze her thighs, pushing into her roughly, needing her to cum soon. I move my hand over hers and hold it there, my fingers over hers, coaxing her into her release.

Her head flings back and her tits thrust forward as she wails. Her juices slide over my cock and her thighs shake under my grasp as she collapses onto my chest. I press my lips to her sweaty forehead, sliding my legs down and easing my cock out of her.

“Roll over,” I nudge, shifting her off me and onto her front on the bed. I move behind her, tugging her up by her hips and pushing her shoulders back down when she tries to rise. My grip hardens as I pull back slightly and run my free hand over her ass. I squeeze it tightly, making her squeak into the sheets and then raise my hand.

The slap echoes around the room and she yelps, her body jolting underneath my hold. I move my hand, my fingers brushing over her dripping entrance. I push two fingers into her, my cock twitching at her muffled moans.

I pull them back out and slap her ass cheek again, smearing her wetness over the faint pink that's starting to form. This time, it's less of a yelp and more of a groan. I smirk to myself as I push my fingers into her again, this time pumping them in and out as I release my grip on her shoulder and smack her other ass cheek. Her pussy tightens around my fingers as I squeeze her ass and slap it one final time.

“Get up.” I pull at her hips and then push her to the side of the bed. “Get up,” I say again, sliding behind her as she stands. I push her towards the dresser, reaching over her to push all its contents to the floor. I watch her in the large mirror that sits on the top, gripping her left leg and bending it so that the knee rests on the hard surface. She's open to me, my cock brushing against her entrance as I push her forward, angling her so I can watch her in the mirror and watch as I slide inside her.

With one hand on her hip and the other gripping the back of her neck, my fingers in her hair, I thrust into her, feeling her tight walls grip me once again.

“Fuck...” I exhale as I increase my hold on her body, slamming into her hard. “Open your eyes.”

She does, glancing over her shoulder at me, her gaze trailing from my face down my chest and over my abs. Her eyes flicker to her bent knee, my hand on her hip and then to the mirror where she moans, watching my cock slide in and out of her.

Smoke with me baby Lay with me baby now Laugh with me baby I just want the simple things

I tighten my hand around the back of her neck, forcing her to keep her gaze on our reflection as I manically pump in and out of her. She feels so fucking good. She looks fucking amazing, her face flushed, her lips bruised from kisses and my cock, her eyes dark with lust as she watches, mesmerised by our own antics. A bead of sweat trickles down the back of her neck and I shift my hand slightly so I can lean forward and lick it. My body moulds against hers as I trace my tongue over my bite mark from last night. She shivers in my arms and I can't help but press my lips to it once again and suck hard.

She curses, squirming in my arms as I curl my hand over her waist and down to her clit. I rub alternating between hard and fast and soft and gentle, biting her neck at the same time, feeling her tense around me.

“Scream for me, darlin'...”

She whimpers instead and I slam into her hard.

“Not good enough...” I breathe into her ear, moving my hand to her hair, tangling it in my fist and pulling her head back so she arches against me. “Scream...”

Her eyes squeeze shut as I slide my fingers down to gather her wetness and then rub her clit again. I roll it between my fingers, noting every sharp intake of breath, every flinch of her petite frame as I pound into her.

I want to hear her scream my name. I can't get enough of it. I want her to be mine forever and this is the only way I know how to express that need and want. My own breath is ragged and my balls are painfully tight as I drive straight into my own release.

But it's her howl that makes me cum in the end. She calls out my name, quickly lost in an echoing scream as she clamps down on my cock and milks me dry. I pump into her even after she's drained every drop of me, her pussy still quivering around me. I release my hand from her neck, a pang of guilt flooding through me as I note the faint bruises from my fingers.

“Jesus,” I breathe, pulling out and wrapping my arms around her. Her legs slide from underneath her and I scoop her up in my arms and turn back to the bed.

I lay her down, pulling back the covers and then shift her beneath them, sliding in behind to wrap my arms around her along with the sheets. I breathe heavily into her neck, my lips gently kissing the bruises I've left. My hands run over her arms, down her body, around her waist, soothe her thighs.

Smoke with me baby Lay with me baby now Laugh with me baby I just want the simple things

She's quiet, her eyes closed, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead. And I'm no better, my chest heaving from exertion. I palm my own hair back and then nuzzle into her neck once again, inhaling deeply. Her scent surrounds me and I can't even begin to express how thankful I am to have her in my life. She is my everything.

She stirs in my arms. “Fuck, Dean.”

I chuckle and pull back slightly so she can roll over to face me. She traces a finger down my cheek, giggling as I attempt to draw it into my mouth.

“You hurt, babe?”

She shakes her head. “You should know that by now...”

“Still like to check.”

She smiles warmly. “I like that you do.”

That first night together. I lost my fucking mind. As we tugged that dress from her body, I was tugging her nipples and biting the soft flesh. I remember her hands running through my hair, a murmur of “harder” and that was it. She takes me for who I am and doesn't want anything else. And there are times like tonight, where she'll do what she needs to do to get herself off before I have my way with her. But she loves it as much as I do and she gives me her body 100%.

I just want you I just want you Give it all you All to you darling

“You have no idea how hot you looked,” I tell her.

“Oh, I know,” she grins. “I was watching in the mirror remember...” Her voice drops an octave. “Watching your cock driving in and out of me...”

I groan, my cock twitching at her words and she laughs lightly. I roll onto my back and pull her with me, feeling her legs tangle with mine as she rests her head on my chest. Her fingers graze over my arms and she props herself up to kiss me.

“You heading out to the gym later?” she murmurs against my lips.

I shake my head. “I think I can get a good enough workout here.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“This,” I gesture around the bedroom. “This is my own personal gym. Much better perks.”

“Such as?”

“Ooh... private shower, private changing room. Good looking chicks too.”

“Chicks?”

I laugh and correct myself. “Chick. Singular. And the best one I could ask for.”

“Much better,” she grins, settling her head back down.

I stroke my hand over her head. “I love you,” I murmur.

She lifts her head again and looks me in the eye with a smile. She opens her mouth to say it back to me, but I cover her lips with mine and swallow her words, savouring them as I roll her onto her back and hover over her.

Her hands tangle in my hair as I lower myself down her body, nuzzling her tits with my cheek, before taking each in turn into my mouth.

“Insatiable,” I hear her mutter.

“Only for you, darlin',” I respond. “Only for you.”

I want you, I want you I just want the simple things

#dean ambrose #jon moxley #jon moxley fanfiction #jon moxley imagine #dean ambrose fanfic #dean ambrose fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #deanambrose #dean ambrose imagine

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

Speaking of AUs and plots, OC damages someones car by accident and instead of money they want to be paid back in dates.

Anonymous said: For the request: “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

↳ Auto Date Claim

2.3k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grips the steering wheel.

He blows through the yellow light even though he should’ve stopped but there’s no time to waste, not when the last thing he wants is to be late for the meeting. Everything has to be perfect.

Which is what makes this phone call the worst.

“I’m not coming.”

“What?!” Jin looks to the display screen where there’s Jisoo’s name as if he can telepathically send her his exasperated expression. “Why not?!”

“You know why. I don’t want to be a doll that’s supposed to sit there silently, Seokjin. I’m done.”

“No. Please. You know how important this meeting is to me. You can’t be doing this—”

“Oh, yes I can.”

She hangs up. Seokjin groans, the urge to slam his forehead against the steering wheel overwhelming. But he resists and when he gets to the next red light, he frantically calls Yoongi.

The dial tone rings over his car speakers and then the man picks up. Yoongi is calm by nature and there’s little that can faze him. But now, his voice pitches up every so slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you on your way to meeting the Jeon’s?”

“Yeah, but Jisoo just called to tell me she’s not coming.”

“Oh shit.”

Family. Marriage. Commitment. They’re essential pillars for the Jeon’s who’ve been married for fifty years. They’re old school, the epitome of tradition. The plan was for Jin to look like a family man too, to add to his own integrity and to show that he shares the Jeon’s company values. And everything matters when it comes to the contract they’ve been trying to sign for the past year. A minuscule detail like this could tip the scales and make the Jeon’s sign with the competitor instead.

“Is Irene there?” Jin asks as he drives. “Maybe she can come instead.”

“She’s already running an errand for Hoseok. Just...make something up. Maybe you can say—”

At the exact same time, as Seokjin stops for a red light, the entire car jolts forward without warning. He nearly slams his head on the wheel — this time, unintentionally.

What the fuc—

“Yoongi, wait. I just got rear-ended.”

“What?!”

As if things couldn’t get worse today. Jin undoes his seat belt and climbs out of the car. The perpetrator of the accident also gets out and he looks at you who’s completely wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry!” you screech in horror. “I was just singing to this new album and looking around, I’ve never driven on this street before and I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so so sorry.”

You come to look at the damage at his bumper and a gasp tears from your throat. It’s a Maserati.

You don’t know much about cars, but even you’re aware this is a luxury vehicle imported from somewhere in Europe. Germany. France. Italy. One of those fancy countries where you haven’t even dreamed of traveling to. You don’t know much but one thing’s certain — you’re so fucked.

As you’re losing your mind, Seokjin taps his foot and checks his watch.

His eyes bulge when he realizes the hour’s almost up. “Do you have your insurance information?” he blurts, interrupting your internal meltdown.

“I-Insurance?” You deflate all at once. “I don’t.”

Seokjin sighs and glances over his shoulder. The Hwagae Hotel where the meeting was taking place was so close that he could practically see the entrance door from here.

There’s no more time to waste.

“I’m heading to the Hwagae Hotel.” He points down the street. “Do you want to talk about it there?”

You nod dejectedly and get back into your car to follow him into the hotel’s parking lot before you slow down traffic any more than you already have. Getting more angry drivers on your back is the last thing you need at the moment. At the same time, your mind scrambles for solutions. But it comes up empty.

God fucking dammit. You shouldn’t have been cheap. You should’ve just gone hungry for an entire week to get the car insurance. Why on earth did you think you didn’t need it?!

By the time you get out of your car again, you’re on the verge of tears.

You eye the expensive, sleek black car. Then your eyes stray to the stranger.

“I...I don’t have much money I can give you.”

Jin glances at his watch and then at you. He finally gets a good look at you. Or rather, he notices your simple skirt and blouse ensemble. In an instant, a light bulb flickers in his brain.

“You don’t need to pay if you follow me.” His head nudges towards the hotel and your eyes become rounded at the suggestion. You gawk at the door of the hotel and back at him within seconds, entirely horrified. Seokjin quickly clarifies, “I have a business brunch inside and I need a partner to go with. You don’t need to do anything. You can just stay silent and eat.”

Seokjin watches as you look at the car and then his crisp suit before you’re slowly coming to nod. “A-Alright.”

He turns on his heel and struts into the hotel lobby without waiting for you.

Seokjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a spontaneous person, but when push comes to shove and it’s the last moment, he’s good at coming up with fixes. He prides himself on it, having been the person who jumped in at the last second to repair things on more than one occasion.

Podium mic not working at the charity banquet? He ran to the nearby mall and bought a portable karaoke microphone at a booth. The client has a pollen allergy he didn’t know about? He threw the flowers on the table out the window when she turned around. The handouts for the shareholder meeting were forgotten? He announced they were going paperless.

The point is: Seokjin will do whatever it takes. Even if his methods are unconventional.

He enters the lavish hotel restaurant, already finding the couple by the windows. He brushes past the hostess with a sparkling smile and peeks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following after him.

“Seokjin!”

They’re an old couple in professional garb. The man is in a gray suit while the woman is in a modest navy dress. He doesn’t miss the Louis Vuitton purse next to her wine glass filled with water.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Jeon. You as well, Mrs. Jeon.”

He shakes their hands and at once, Mrs. Jeon looks at you with her brows raised. “And who is this?”

“This is my partner….”

“Y/N,” you fill in for him, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve been through your fair share of meetings, so you smile and shake their hands with ease.

As strange as the situation is, you’re just relieved he wasn’t lying about it. You had the impression he wasn’t, but you were ready to hightail it out of here if he brought you into a hotel room.

“I didn’t know you had a partner, Seokjin,” the older man notes, impressed and curious.

Jin laughs. “Well, I’m glad you know now.”

Everyone takes their seats and the waiter comes by to fill your glasses of water and ask if anyone wants a particular drink. Once he’s sauntered away, the woman across from you makes conversation. “What do you do, Y/N?”

So much for having to do nothing. “I’m an intern at JML.”

“Oh, I have a friend’s niece who works there. Are you looking to become an accountant then?” her husband asks.

“Hopefully.” You smile before lifting the glass of water to your lips.

“That’s so nice,” Mrs. Jeon sighs. “You young-ins should work and develop a career while you still have the chance. Heaven knows things become so much more difficult once you start a family.”

Family? It’s a foreign concept to hear considering it’s not a subject even in the realm of your concern. You manage to stiffly nod.

“How did you two meet?”

You almost spit out your water.

Seokjin reaches over to pat your back as you wheeze. “Are you alright...darling?”

You wipe your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. What was this guy’s name again? Seokho? No that wasn’t it. It had a J in it. Seok...ju? No….

“Seokjin, I’m fine.”

Mrs. Jeon watches the interaction through rose-coloured glasses and smiles knowingly. “My apologies if it’s an intrusive question. I just adore a good love story.”

“Actually, it’s a funny story.” Jin smiles as a sweat bead practically rolls down his face. “Y/N here rear-ended my car when I was on my way to a meeting and that’s how we got to know each other.”

He looks at you and starts to laugh. After a delayed moment, you join in and inwardly cringe at how awkward it sounds. Yet the old couple doesn’t notice.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Jeon asks with a warm smile, hands threaded on the table.

You look at him and his laughter dies down. “T-Thr-Two years! Yes, two years.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” she swoons to her husband who nods in approval. “Are you going to get married soon? It’s not good to let a young woman wait too long.”

If you didn’t choke before, you might again. This time from your own saliva.

Mr. Jeon hums. “Yes, I personally don’t think one should wait long if they know it’s the right person.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s good news,” Seokjin interjects before you get the chance and he suddenly blurts, “Because we’re already married.”

Your head whirls to him, neck nearly breaking from the whiplash. You gawk at his profile.

Mrs. Jeon gasps in amazement. Mr. Jeon appears intrigued.

As the proclamation leaves his lips, it’s already too late to take it back. Seokjin isn’t spontaneous. He’s just good at quick fixes, too good that they become permanent fixes.

The point is: Seokjin’s an absolute idiot sometimes.

“Really?! Where’s the ring?”

“We’re getting it fixed at the moment. Y/N lost a bit of weight so it kept slipping off her fingers.”

He turns to you and you stare at him incredulously before deadpanning, “Right.”

“When did you get married?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Recently,” Seokjin lies without batting a single lash. It’s not hard to pitch an idea or an outlandish one at that when he used to work as a door-to-door salesman during his teenage years and then a car salesman during his college years.

Seokjin’s entire career has been built on convincing others.

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

You give him a look. Jin smiles.

“Yes. We are.”

By the end of brunch, you know more about Kim Seokjin than you ever intended to know — case in point, you’re now aware of his last name. You know he’s three years older than you are, that he’s been working at his company for four, and he’s pretty high up on the corporate ladder but is still continuing to climb it. You even know about the possible contract between his company and the Jeon’s, and the open plot of land on Hwarang avenue that would apparently be the perfect location to expand the Golden Resort and turn it into a franchise.

You’re sure he knows way more about you than he’d like to know too.

“I’ll be honest, I was unsure if I wanted to sign with your company, Seokjin. But you’ve shown me you have a lot of integrity and a strong work ethic. I think our values are compatible as well.” Mr. Jeon shakes hands with Seokjin. “You’ll get a call from my office soon and I think you’ll like what you’ll hear.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“You’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jeon adds on as she looks at the pair of you standing next to one another. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…”

The two of them bid their final farewells and Mr. Jeon lifts his hand to the valet across the lot. Mrs. Jeon hangs off his arm as their Cadillac is driven up to the door. They get in soon after.

It’s silent between you and Seokjin.

“So…..we’re married, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” He turns to you with a heavy sigh. “It was a really important client I have to sign with and they really value family and relationships.”

You nod. It doesn’t really matter now — what’s important is that it’s over. But one thing isn’t. “About your car….”

The both of you walk across the lot to his vehicle and he finally has the time to get a good look at the damage.

There’s a clear dent in his back bumper and a scratch. But luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much anywhere else.

“It’s a ninety nine thousand dollar car.”

You wheeze. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know how much the damage will be, but it might cost a bit.”

Oh my god.

Seokjin suddenly turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse. I know you don’t have the means to pay for the damage, so you won’t have to. But in exchange, accompany me to business brunches or galas. It won’t be often and it’ll be similar to what you just experienced. You won’t have to say much and you can even eat for free.”

There’s a drawn out pause. You blink at him owlishly.

“I accidentally told him you were my wife and if you weren’t there from now on, it’ll look suspicious,” Seokjin explains. “It’ll be just for a little while. Maybe half a year? I’ll figure something out after that. How does it sound?”

You know you don’t have much of a choice.

You don’t have insurance and you don’t have money to pay out of pocket. If anything, the offer is generous and Seokjin seems trustworthy — especially considering you’ve gotten to know him in the past hour.

For all those reasons, maybe that’s why you nod. “I can do that.”

He smiles and you brace yourself for a whirlwind.

#bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jin reader insert #jin fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #jin scenario #bts drabble #jin drabble #Anonymous #Jimlings

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astro-rain · 4 years ago

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delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #marvel #steve rogers #bucky reader insert #marvel fanfiction #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #captain america fanfiction #marvel fanfic rec

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cristobalrios · 3 years ago

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PicardPositivity Day 16: Halfway there!

The prompt is to take a break and post some random memes, but I am going to take this opportunity to thank one of my best friends, @freckledliberty, for his amazing OC, that has kept my Cris muse alive for two years even though most other Picard RPers went dormant for a while (but hopefully will return back in full force for s2!)

I adore the love story between these idiots, I love Lorian as a character, and his relationship with Cris and each of the holos, and how much he cares about all of them. So much of the way I see and write Cris and the holos has been developed while writing with you, and I always look forward to writing with and talking to you every day. We have developed so much with them, and I look forward to all we will do in the future, including whatever comes from season 2. Thank you for staying with me and being an inspiration. I love you.

I would also like to thank the Aramis in Space community, who have been keeping this fandom alive for two years while we waited for the next season, and now we're almost there! It's always wonderful to read all your headcanons and fics, listen to your podfics and see your amazing art centering on our boys and the crew. A huge thank you to @procrastinatorproject for putting this together, and for all the hard work you do over at @mappinglasirena, and I know I keep saying this but you deserve the praise. Honestly, doing PicardPositivity has been really helpful to me in not having to wait in agony for season 2, instead I am looking forward to praising season 1 and seeing what I am going to do for that day's prompts!

PicardPositivity Prompts My PicardPositivity Tag The General PicardPositivity Tag

#picardpositivity #community #s'vec rios lorian #aramis in space

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klonoadreams · 3 years ago

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Metamorphosis

Chapter 1: Circumstance

A/N Okay, this is my first time ever really posting any of my works on tumblr. This is also for convenience sake, before I eventually move these chapters onto AO3 and FFN.

IN THE MEANTIME, understand that there is a shit ton of worldbuilding and headcanons at work here, most of which involves a huge difference between shinobi life and civilian life. So if something seems off, then understand that it is a likely result of that.

We also got a bunch of OCs incoming, so if you hate OCs, I wouldn’t recommend this story (this is a warning I give nowadays, after someone gave me shit for it). With that said, read on!!

(do tell me if there’s anything in particular that you’d like me to put warnings in. I’ve never had anyone talk to me about it, in the past six years this fic has existed, but I don’t mind starting now - just let me know what)

(let me know what you think in my inbox)

…

Aburame Shinjiro is someone who has never held interest in romance nor sex. It’s something that his clan has never questioned him for—why would they? How he lives his life is entirely up to him. The most they can do is support him, as they have done since his birth.

His friends, however, felt differently—not out of malice, but rather, out of ignorance. It’s why Shinjiro still considers them his friends. After all, friends can sometimes be idiots—especially when they’ve been around civilians for most of their life. Sooner or later, his words will finally reach them, and they can all laugh it off.

In the meantime, Shinjiro decides to humor his friends in whatever form of celebration that they want to throw him, as soon as it comes to their attention that he’s been promoted to Jounin. He is by no means the first of their graduating class to reach Jounin. He is, however, the first in his team to do so, at the age of seventeen.

Anything can happen at this rate, and it just so happens that Uzuki Tsukiya and Gekkō Shō have decided that an appropriate celebration for their dear teammate is to drag him to the most popular brothel in the Red Light District.

“Ah.” Shinjiro can’t say that he isn’t impressed, especially with what he sees. There is a first time for everything, and more likely than not, this will be the last time he will ever set foot in a place such as this, so he indulges in his curiosities. Not helping are his friends, who only enable him throughout the trivial conversations they have between drinks.

One thing leads to another, and before Shinjiro knows it, he is waking up the next morning with a massive hangover. There is a sense of apathy that he feels towards the loss of his virginity. It never really meant much to him before, and even now, it still means nothing as he processes last night’s events.

It was…fun?

Well, it was certainly something. It’s not completely terrible, though it’s not anything that Shinjiro would ever actively seek out again. He looks towards his companion from last night—a young woman with long, green hair and fair skin. She is looking at herself in a mirror, preparing herself for yet another day of work.

She is completely uninterested in Shinjiro, as he is her. Yellow eyes shift towards him, framed by thick eyelashes. She is undeniably pretty, with a voice that is just as lovely. Even though she tells him to leave, the way she says it sounds almost like a song.

“I do not think we will be seeing each other again.” All things considered, this is a one-time fling.

“It is regretful—though, it would be for the best, as I doubt you can afford me for another night.” She laughs to herself, hiding her mouth behind her kimono’s sleeve. “I hope you enjoyed your time with Monaka.”

Monaka—he’s heard that name before, coming from the mouths of people he’d sometimes pass. It’s the name of a high-ranking oiran—a tayuu—that had caught the eyes of many. She is of impressive fame, and he’s somehow spent the night with her.

Undoubtedly, his friends will be congratulating him for the feat, alongside the fact that he is no longer a virgin. And yet, as he leaves the brothel and makes his way back to his clan’s compound, he finds that he still does not care at all about anything.

Yes, he was always certain that he never had an interest in sex, though this most certainly confirms it. Nothing is wrong with him—this is just who he is. And Shinjiro has never felt so comfortable, knowing that this part of himself will never change.

He accepts the apologies that he receives from his friends, who have since realized the error of their ways.

“We should have never pushed you…” Shō averts his gaze.

“We should have been better friends.” Tsukiya is full of remorse for the way he has treated his friend.

“Then start now.” Shinjiro does not hide the smile that forms on his lips. “Show me how you can be better.”

His friends can be idiots, yes—but they are not terrible people. He knows they can do better, which is why he gives them this second chance.

“Shinjiro!!” they wail, in a manner that almost seems comical, were it not for the way they grab his hands. He can feel their resolve—can see how much he means to them, through the tears they shed out of relief.

Yes, things could have gone better…but Shinjiro is okay with this. He appreciates the better understanding he now has with his friends. It’s why he nearly forgets about his evening with that high-ranking courtesan.

And then one late evening in the winter, during New Year’s Eve, Shinjiro finds his past fling has left him with an infant in his arms.

…

Motherhood was always something that Monaka had kept in the back of her head. It’s why she kept calm, even when her birth control had failed, and her stomach started to grow. She could no longer see any clients—not while she considered her options.

But she didn’t mind—it gave her enough time to think, as she continued to watch over the kamuro, and aid the hikikomi with their training. Often, it brought her back to the time she was once like them.

She’s come so far, since the day her parents had sold her off to this brothel. Through hard work and perseverance, she became an oiran that was admired and love by many people. It’s a good life—certainly better than the one she had before she was sold.

Her parents had sold her to give her a better chance at life, but Monaka never forgets the way she was left behind. Never forgets the spite that fuels the way she keeps moving forward…

Yes, she’ll certainly become a better parent than them.

“Monaka will keep you.” That is the decision that Monaka made that day.

She does not regret it—not even when she has complications giving birth. She still doesn’t know who the father is, but that doesn’t stop her from holding the crying newborn close to her chest.

She breastfeeds her child, and then lulls it to sleep with a gentle song. The medic-nin makes a comment, but Monaka is too busy ignoring them. Shinobi are the least deserving of her attention, when there are people far more important than them.

Ahhh…Monaka’s baby is so very pretty, with yellow eyes that are exactly like hers. No doubt, this child will grow up to be quite the beauty.

“Maybe you’ll even surpass me.” Monaka has her doubts, but it’s still a thought she considers anyways. It’s fun thinking about the future, when there is so much that can be done with all the money that she’s earned over the years. She will miss this brothel very much.

No doubt, everyone else will miss her as well. So many fans of hers will cry when they hear that she’s left…

“How tragic.” All things must eventually come to an end, and Monaka feels like she’s had a good run. Maybe now, she’ll finally have a husband… “Yes…a husband…”

Obviously, he’ll have to be just as pretty and rich as she is. It’s only fair, if he wishes to spend the rest of his life with her. Only the best for her child (and Monaka, of course).

And then the medic-nin mentions her baby’s developed chakra coils.

“Ah.” The revelation drags Monaka back to reality in the harshest of ways. After all, most babies aren’t supposed to have developed chakra coils—not unless one of their parents is a shinobi. And Monaka is not a shinobi… “So it’s the father’s fault.”

The father is at fault for this mess.

“Tch.” Monaka absolutely loathes shinobi. Certainly, they make for great clients, with the money they earn from missions. But outside of work, Monaka can barely even tolerate medic-nin. And knowing that this child she had given birth is one of them—or will be, with the appropriate training…

Well, she can’t have that, now can she?

The future is uncertain, though that doesn’t change the fact that this child has already been tainted. Knowing this, is it really worth it for Monaka to give up everything she had worked for, just to care for a child like this?

Monaka thinks long, and hard about it as she grows more and more repulsed by the tiny body that she holds in her arms.

“Is it possible to find the father?” Monaka wishes to know, so that she can make her next decision.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult, if that’s what you’re asking,” so says the medic-nin. “Is something wrong?”

There is something off about the look in Monaka’s eyes. It stays there as she hands over the infant to the medic-nin. When asked again, if something is wrong, all that comes out of Monaka’s mouth is, “I don’t want it.”

She averts her gaze afterwards, refusing to say any more than that. She doesn’t want to think about it. To think about the mistake that she had almost made—the regrets she almost forced upon herself.

“Maybe next time,” Monaka thinks to herself as the medic-nin walks out of the room.

…

It takes a while for the shock to wear off. All things considered, Shinjiro thinks he is handling this discovery a lot better than expected. It’s unpredictable, yes—but accidents happen.

It’s just that this accident made him a father.

“A father…” He isn’t against the idea of being one, though he feels that his circumstances could be a lot better than this. Of course, the same could certainly be said about his (his?) child. “Mine…?”

Does he want this child?

His own mother had wanted him and his younger brother, unlike the person who had given birth to this child.

“I am not her…” But he doesn’t have to take care of this child either—he has options, too. There are plenty of relatives that he has who are willing to care for another child, in place of him. He doesn’t have to say goodbye, but he also doesn’t have to accept this responsibility either. “Is that what I want?”

Shinjiro does not know, so he continues to stare at the sleeping infant that he holds in his arms. He doesn’t hate this—doesn’t hate the way this feels. Just what is this feeling that won’t leave him?

It’s been stirring deep inside of him, from the very moment he had accepted his (hishishis) child. This child…

“I made this…” the thought finds its way into Shinjiro’s mind, as he traces his finger around a tiny hand. A small gasp leaves his mouth when that tiny hand suddenly wraps itself around his index finger. Slowly, a pair of yellow eyes open up, blinking a few times as Shinjiro continues to stare. “I made this…”

He says it out loud that time, finally recognizing what he had been feeling this entire time.

It’s pride.

Unlike the mother of his child, Shinjiro wants this child—this little girl with yellow eyes and black hair. He wants the responsibilities that come with raising a child, even if it’s at the cost of his own career. It won’t be easy, but Shinjiro has never been one to give up so easily.

And when his daughter starts wailing at the top of her lungs (likely out of hunger), Shinjiro holds her close to his chest. He murmurs comforting words to her, as that familiar sensation prickles his skin.

“There, there, Shiki—Otou-san is here.” Shinjiro smiles tenderly at his daughter, who is no longer nameless. It’s saddening to know about her circumstances—the way it had brought her to him… But he won’t let that get in the way of his parenting.

Shinjiro doesn’t do romance…but he can still love. And he has so much love to give to this child.

…

Shiki…

That’s what he called her.

“Is that my name?” It seems like it, from the way this man keeps repeating it. It’s hard not to cry right now, when this body still doesn’t feel like hers.

The confusion has yet to leave her, feeling so disoriented, amongst other things.

Terrified.

Lost.

Helpless.

The last few hours have been one mind-boggling mess after another. She wouldn’t be surprised if the entire experience left her traumatized—coming out of that woman was not fun.

Speaking of that woman…where is she?

Mama??

Was that her mother? That woman had been so loving to her, comforting her through the fear that overwhelmed her. It’s terrifying, being thrust into a world of cold brightness, after being enveloped in comforting darkness for so long.

The way her body reacted to pure instinct, not even allowing her full control of it…

Even now, it still acts on instinct—the way her mouth latches onto the bottle that’s brought to her lips. It’s a different experience altogether, though her body doesn’t care as much as her mind does. Food is food, and her body will take whatever it can get.

Her vision isn’t the best, but it’s enough that she can make out the features of the man that bottle-feeds her.

Man?

Well, it’s definitely not that woman. That woman was beautiful—or at least she thought she looked beautiful. The vision of a newborn isn’t the best, but what she was able to see…well, it was certainly something.

Not to say that this man isn’t handsome. It’s more that his face is obscured by dark lenses. The best she can make out is a smile on his face. He doesn’t sing, like that woman had. Doesn’t…have the same beauty that left her so awestricken.

Regardless, he still makes her feel so warm and safe, as she hears other voices around him speak. She doesn’t understand a thing that they are saying, but she can feel her skin starting to tingle.

It feels weird…

“…Shiki…”

Ah—there’s that name again.

My name?

Yes…this is her name.

I’m Shiki.

And Shiki is her.

This is her new life.

Her second chance…

Hey…

Did that woman ever call her anything?

The question lingers in the back of Shiki’s head, filling her head with more and more thoughts as she questions her surroundings. She knows next to nothing about her situation.

It still feels unreal…

And it’s so difficult to stay awake, when she feels so warm and safe…

So she falls asleep, to the soft humming that comes from the man she can only assume is her father.

…

The next time Shiki wakes up, her head is so much clearer. She fully understands just how baffling her situation has become. One day, she was just a typical college girl, struggling to make it through the school year with some money and good grades. And then…

And then…

Darkness.

There was nothing but darkness.

It was scary, but…in time, it became comforting. It helped that there was a voice around to talk to her. She never understood what it was telling her, but…that didn’t matter.

It made her feel safe. And sometimes…sometimes—she heard music and singing.

Now…

Now, all Shiki can hear is the soft breathing that comes from the person sleeping right next to her. She can barely move, with how bundled up she is in blankets. She opens her mouth, letting out a small yawn.

Sleep is imminent.

Despite her confusion, she still feels so safe, due to the way that man has treated her. He’s been nothing but kind to her, like that woman had been… Except unlike her, he gave her a name.

She still has so many questions…so, so many of them. But slowly, she finds herself easing into the fact that she has been given a second chance at life. She knows nothing about the way her first life had come to an end, but she does not care.

How it happened does not matter.

What matters is that it did happened. And knowing that, makes her feel sad about the life that she left behind.

“Shiki…” But then he calls out to her, in that soft voice of his. She feels fingers gently brushing her hair, her body carefully being pressed closer to his. She can hear his heartbeat—it’s a lot different from that woman’s.

But it still makes her feel so safe. It lulls her to sleep, taking her attention off the prickling sensation in her limbs.

…

The sensation continues, well into the next morning. It causes Shiki to become quite fussy, flailing her tiny limbs around as her father dresses her in white clothes. He is patient with her, despite how much trouble she gives him.

His patience never wavers, even when she suddenly spits up her food. He just wipes her mouth and continues to talk to her in such a comforting tone.

Soon, Shiki finds herself being passed from person to person, in a room filled with a multitude of people. She hears her name being spoken, in the string of words that leave their mouths. She doesn’t know exactly what it is that they are saying to her, but the meaning still reaches her anyways.

These people are happy to see her.

Happy that she exists.

Happy to welcome her into this family…

Her father holds himself quite differently now, when she is returned to his arms. His smile is far more visible on his face. She can actually make out the blush on his pale skin…

He calls out to her again. “Shiki…”

She lets out a yawn, feeling far too tired from the experience. So far, so good—the only thing she doesn’t like about her new life are the diapers…

But that’s a problem best left for another hour. Despite the setback, she still considers this better than college. No responsibilities for her just yet—all she has to do is continue living.

That’s all.

Though, as she grows more and more comfortable in her father’s arms, her thoughts begin to wander. Just where is that woman?

Mama?

Why isn’t she here?

Shiki doesn’t know…and she certainly doesn’t know why her body feels so prickly. It’s not uncomfortable—just there. It keeps her mind from drifting, keeping her tethered to reality. It’s annoying, but…not too terrible.

As things are right now, it’s fine.

This is fine.

…

The days that go by are such a blur, and yet…

Despite this…

Shinjiro can still remember every day, in such vivid detail. The way he spends every little moment with this tiny bundle of joy.

“I made this,” he tells his teammates, on the day he introduces Shiki to them.

“You most certainly did,” says Sho, who never thought Shinjiro was the type to say something like that.

Hell, he looks damn proud of it, too. Just what happened to his stalwart companion, who had intimidated so many with his presence?

“Well, she certainly has her mother’s eyes.” Tsukiya feels a shiver go down his spine when those yellow eyes suddenly focus on him. “Everything else is all you.”

From the way such a tiny infant can still inflict such worrying fear with just a mere gaze.

“Speaking of her mother—where is she?” Shō notices the oiran’s glaring absence. He has a few guesses of where she could be, but he wants to hear it from Shinjiro first.

There is a slight pause.

Slowly, Shinjiro brings Shiki closer to his chest. He considers his words carefully, before bluntly responding, “She did not want her.”

There is no better way to say it.

Not while he still feels the sting of rejection. She doesn’t know any better, but one day…

One day…

She will, and those feelings he experiences in place of her…

Well, it’ll likely feel even worse for her.

“I guess it’s a good thing that she takes mostly after you, then…” There isn’t much that Tsukiya can see, while Shiki is nestled comfortably in her carrier. But what he can make out are features that are very much Shinjiro’s.

Pale skin, with such dark hair…

Even with the features that she does manage to share with that oiran—none of it matters, while she is in Shinjiro’s care.

“I am so sorry…” Shō bows apologetically to Shinjiro, the guilt practically eating away at his heart. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a—I’ll shut up.”

Shinjiro shakes his head. “It is fine. Shiki has me.”

They have each other.

“I thought you didn’t do love?” Tsukiya scratches the back of his head, still inexperienced to the various paths of life that a person can walk.

“I said I did not do romance—I never said anything about love.” Shinjiro sure has a lot of it toward his daughter, who is currently sucking on her thumb. “Love comes in many forms. You two should know better than to limit it to just romance.”

“I suppose that there is still a lot we don’t understand,” Shō admits, knowing fully well of the faults that he still has. It’s hard to shake off some of the things that he and Tsukiya have learned, during their time at the orphanage. “It’s hard enough learning how to love someone.”

Taking so many risks, despite the short lives they have as shinobi.

“Isn’t it frightening?” Shō asks. “Having a child?”

How many more risks are there?

“Hmm…” Shinjiro does not know how to answer that question just yet.

“Well…at least he’s not like Yūhi-san.” Tsukiya heaves out a sigh at the mere thought of that child. “I hear his daughter, Kurenai, is turning one this year.”

“Oh man—you’re only a few years older than him…!” It’s finally starting to sink in for Shō. And yet, he still can’t believe it—even though the evidence is right there, in front of his face. “You are seriously the last person I ever expected to be a father.”

“Who decided that it was appropriate to celebrate my Jounin promotion by going to a brothel?” Shinjiro eyes his teammates suspiciously. Had it not for that night, then Shiki wouldn’t be here, in this carrier that he had chosen so carefully out of a catalogue.

“Yeah, you got us there…” Tsukiya pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that, by the way—we should have just listened to you.”

“You…really deserve better friends…” Shō shifts awkwardly under Shinjiro’s gaze.

“I have you.” Shinjiro has not changed his stance. “You two who are so willing to learn from your mistakes…”

It took them time, but here they are—doing much, much better, in the nine months that have since passed.

“I am glad to have you around—more than that…” More than that—Shinjiro stops for a moment to smile at Shiki. She’s staring at him again… “More than anything else…I have you two to thank, for giving me Shiki. These circumstances could have been better, but I would not trade it for anything else…”

If Shinjiro was ever given a second chance to relive his life, he’d still allow for these events to happen. All so that he could continue holding Shiki so close to his chest…

“Thank you,” he says, with smile that almost leaves Tsukiya and Shō breathless.

It takes a few minutes for the two to recover, with how fast their hearts were beating within their chests. Every so often, they forget just how handsome Shinjiro is…

“Say…” Shō swallows hard. “What are you going to tell her, when she’s old enough to ask?”

It’s a simple enough question—one that he asks out of concern. It’s better to think about it now, instead of waiting until the very last minute.

“I might have to lie…” Shinjiro has certainly considered that option… “I doubt I will be able to, though…”

But he also knows better than to keep such important information from his own child. She deserves to know the truth…

He just hopes she doesn’t ask so soon.

“Shiki-chan is the bastard child of an oiran…” Tsukiya knows just how difficult such a life could be, having been one himself. At least now, he can hide behind his rank as a Chuunin. “Gossip spreads like wildfire here…”

It’s even worse, amongst civilians. The way that title hangs over one’s head, no matter how much distance was put against it…

“What will you do?” Shō bites his lip.

“I will do everything to ensure that Shiki grows up without any problems…” Happiness is essential for his daughter, Shinjiro thinks to himself. “The Aburame clan does not discriminate. Whether it is heritage or background—family is family. That is all that matters.”

Their clan has gone through too much to ever regress to such beliefs, held by civilians and some clans.

“Shiki is really lucky to have you for a father.” Shō pats Shinjiro on the back. “So…how is she doing with the, you know…”

Shinjiro stares at Shō for a minute before nodding his head. “We are still observing her for any negative reactions. Usually, members of the Aburame clan are introduced to kikaichū at birth. Shiki is…an exception.”

“I still can’t get over the fact you’re covered in bugs—how does it even feel?” Tsukiya looks questioningly at Shinjiro. It is a question that he had asked countless times, despite already knowing the answer. Shinjiro suspects that he was just checking to see if he is keeping any more information to himself—which isn’t too far off from the truth.

Shinjiro likes his privacy, as did most of members of his clan. If he wishes to be open, then he’ll do so, when he feels most comfortable. It’s just that this topic in particular, isn’t one that he likes to discuss.

“It is a sensation that one grows accustomed to over the years,” Shinjiro explains for the umpteenth time. “Though, I would be lying if I said it did not bother me for the first two to three years of my life…”

Shinjiro hopes that won’t be the case for his daughter. She deserves to have a better experience than him—one that she can actually talk about and not be so ambiguous about.

“Is that why Shiki looks about ready to cry?” Shō suddenly says, nearly seconds away from losing his composure.

As if on cue, Shiki starts wailing at the top of her lungs. She squirms in the carrier, as if trying to escape its confines.

“There, there…” Shinjiro does his best to calm her.

Tsukiya and Shō have known him long enough to understand that there is more to his impressive stature, and intimidating appearance. And yet, despite this, they still have a hard time processing the sight of him acting like a completely different person towards his daughter. It’s so surreal, yet…oddly endearing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for parenthood…” Tsukiya murmurs.

Shō only nods his head in agreement.

…

Shiki knows next to nothing about Japanese, beyond words she would often hear, watching undubbed anime and Japanese dramas. Despite this, she is still able to pick out words, here and there—even at her current age of not even a week old. The conversation between her father and his friends isn’t any different.

Initially, she thought it was just a coincidence to hear the names Yūhi and Kurenai thrown around. Maybe her father and his friends were fans of Naruto. It sure explained their hitai-ate…

But then the word, “Jounin,” was thrown around and Shiki started to grow a little concerned. And again, maybe they’re just hardcore Naruto fans… It certainly happens.

And then she immediately fixated on the term, “oiran.”

When the fuck was she born?!

The only oiran around should be reenactors, preserving a cultural heritage. And these guys certainly weren’t talking about that. Not with the way her name was mentioned in that very same sentence!

“Why did they even—oh…” Is that…is that who her mother is? Well…that explains her absence. Of course, there could be other reasons, and Shiki is trying her best to remain optimistic…

But it’s difficult, when there is too much going on for her to remain calm. Not helping is when she suddenly hears her father say something about the Aburame.

Why is he talking about Naruto again?

Hey…

“Where am I?” The question alone makes her blood turn cold. The prickling sensation in her body returns with a vengeance, and when Shiki heard her father mention the term, “kikaichū”—the pieces fall into place so easily, that it’s actually horrifying.

There is absolutely no fucking way that it was all just a coincidence. Shiki had been many things in her past life. Slow, she most definitely was and still is, but when she connected the dots, she connected the fucking dots.

The dark eyewear her father and relatives all wore. The hitai-ate her father and his friends wore—hell, if her crappy memory served her well, she recalled some of her relatives were wearing hitai-ate as well. And then there’s the prickling sensation that she felt on a daily basis. Something is completely off about her.

She suspected it a few days, but this only confirms that something is definitely wrong with her. And knowing—just knowing where the source of that sensation was coming from…

“Oh fuck…” Right now, with each breath that she takes, Shiki has thousands of tiny insects crawling inside and outside of her body.

Kikaichū, a species of small, beetle-like insects that are bred and utilized exclusively by the Aburame clan—a clan that is known to offer their newborn children to kikaichū, allowing the insects to nest and breed within them, thus creating a life of symbiosis between symbiont and host. It’s a clan that is supposed to be fictional, and yet…

And yet.

Here Shiki is, possessing enough evidence to confirm that fiction has since become fact.

This is her new reality.

She is a living, breathing example of an Aburame who has recently gone through the process of becoming a host for a species of insects that fed on her chakra… That was also supposed to be fictional—but isn’t, because Shiki is no longer has any right to say what is fact, and what is fiction. Not since the exact moment that she realized she was reborn into the world of Naruto.

Shiki’s immediate reaction is to cry. And honestly, it’s all she can really do, because her vocal cords aren’t exactly developed enough to allow her to curse up a storm. And her brain didn’t have the capacity to handle the wave of emotions that she is currently experiencing.

Oh boy, does her brain enjoy that.

Shiki doesn’t cry too long, as a result of her father’s soothing presence. He knows exactly how to calm her down, and with how tired out she is from all that thinking and emotional duress… Well, it’s not that much of a surprise that she soon fell asleep.

Obviously, she’ll have to deal with full reality of her existence.

But that is something best left for another day.

#klonoa writes #metamorphosis (fanfic)#naruto #naruto oc #self insert #fanfiction #aburame shiki #it's been six fucking years #how's it going y'all

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shelf-care · 4 years ago

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Obsession

Part 4 of the lipstick mark series.

This really isn’t an X OC for creed, but this part is entirely about him and his character and how they had met kinda. I’m saving that for down the line.

Warnings: Creed being Creed.

Everything in life starts with your mindset. It reveals something about who you are and what you do. Is it the way you look at the problems of the world, or the way you want to see the universe around you? Who knows, the world is screwed. Nothing can even start to explain how bad things can get. Maybe that explains the way I am.

Victor Creed (Weapon X Journal log 1996)

“Tell me what she’s been doing.” The claw on his right hand ran down the interns face, cutting his flesh open in the thinest line, trailing from his eye, over the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips. The young man couldn’t be more than twenty two at the most. A Harvard graduate, top of his class in genetic theory and chemistry. The man swallowed, “I can’t give you that information sir. I don’t have the clearance level.” He gasped as Creed released him from his grip, only because he didn’t want to get another strike on his record, to which he had six. “Tell me who does.” Yellow eyes watch his every move, a lion seeking to devour his prey in an instant if he made any sudden moves. “Doctor Striker. He’s the director of Project Trojan horse. He specifically chose Agent Hope for the operation.” The man scoffed, watching a long and thick track of blood slowly pulling down from the cut he’d left on the kids face. “Strikers back.” He smiled. “Missed that sick bastard.” He wiped his claws clean on his coat, then opened the door to leave. “Thanks kid, you were a big help. Make sure to change those pant’s o’ yours.” He chuckled with his white teeth piercing the dim room, his back turning to leave the kid alone and utterly terrified.

With every step Victor couldn’t decide wether or not to be giddy or to curb his excitement out of premature celebration. She was his, had been that way for the last few years. A few months didn’t change that. She was like his light in the dark, his morning star. Why did she not see what she was to him? He’d only felt this one other time before. A burning, and ache for the things that were real. She was the last of the real breed. The type of people who would do anything to save the world. Him? He’d sacrifice the world in a heart beat for her. He’d do annoying to hold her in his arms as they laid contemplating life as they stared at the ceiling. He missed the way she smelled after a night in the rain, running his claws through her thick curls. He scoffed to himself. He became soft, his obsession drove him mad, but it was the best kind. It was like a hunt that would never let him go. The excitement, the raw adrenaline he’d always loved as young man. As his boots connected with the grated floor he heard muffled voices discussing a recent development on “Hopes” mission. Creed was more than curious, he wanted to know what was so important. Tapping in his verification code, the door slid open to the side. Stepping in all the doctors in the room became like a funeral parlor. Dead eyes staring at him all the while folding his arms with a grin on his face. “No continue Doctor Striker.” He gave the man at the table the floor. “I don’t think thats wise Creed. Considering that the topic is about your Former commander, not to mention Ex lover of sorts and her current conditions.” He scoffed again. “She’s still my girl.” He said as a joke but with the hidden agenda of something Striker couldn’t place, but at the same time he’d known what Victor was planning. “Its inappropriate, and is currently on a top level clearance need to know basis.” Creeds steps thundered across the room, every step a low roll of a storm threatening those around it. “Then by all means Doctor, remove me.” He sat down at the table, legs placed on top of the table with research papers under his boots. Picking one up and placing over he saw lots of long wards that he couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. “The way I see it. Theres something you don’t want me knowing about because she’s become more than just an operative and sleeper agent.” He lent forward, his hair curtaining most of his face. Striker removed his glasses, giving them a rub with a cleaning cloth, then pushed them up the bridge of his nose as he was finished. “You’re not as idiotic as you look.” He commented. Creed chuckled in a rather dark tone. “You’d be surprised on what goes on in here.” He motioned with his rather large index claw to his temple. Creed stood up again, towering over the sitting Striker. Without even looking below, Victor snatched up the latest report from the physical they had run just earlier that day on an “Agent Hope.” As he flipped through the report, there were pictures of her. Her face, physical features that looked foreign to him even if they had been intimate many times before. “He glanced down at a picture that he was even more unfamiliar to him. An almost entirely black photograph, dates were written in the corners, the time, subject, and then the being. “Fetus X.” Was the name they had given the photo. “Fetus X?” He threw the file back n the table. This time the cool demeanor of Striker fading away. “I told you this was the concern of our department and the state of Toronto. Creeds hand wrapped itself around Strikers weasel like neck. Living him off the floor and over Victors head, he could hear the oxygen leave the room as the other scientists and Doctors watched on in horror and stuck to their seats, too afraid to leave. “You knocked her up? And you didn’t even have the damn decency to let me know? You’re turning her into a damn Petri dish!” He squeezed hard enough to make Striker jump, and as a result make his glasses fall and hit the floor. “We supplemented her Birth control, we needed this to happen.” He explained. “Keep going.” The threat became even more real as Creeds claws started to draw blood. “Weapon X, is the biological father. We needed his DNA, we need to know w-what makes his mutation so lethal.” After hearing this he threw The man into the nearest wall. HIs body hit the ground like a stack of bricks hit concrete. Victor said nothing as he started to leave the room. As he rubbed his neck, Striker regained his confidence. “If it changes anything, she wants this child.” Creeds stare was the coldest and murderous you could ever imagine seeing. The yellow orange eyes of his filled with such anger it could rival that of a volcanos lava that had just reached the surface.

“You better pray that I don’t find her first.”

#victor creed x oc #wolverine x oc #wolverine x reader #victor creed x reader #X-men OC #X-MEN FANFIC #X-men #marvel #marvel x reader #sabertooth x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #avengers #Weapon X

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“Please forgive me if I end up breaking your heart.”

jimin x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.2K

a/n: I hope this isn’t too much of a mess :( as I was editing I ended up changing things and adding a bunch so I’m not sure if it flows all that well but nonetheless, here it is. This takes place a week after Jimin and Dear define their relationship in “I think we should avoid overthinking.” I hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading! :))

p.s. Happy Jimin Day! I love this sweet, one of a kind man so much!! I hope he had an amazing birthday <3

p.s.s. Happy birthday @thatredwine!!! <3 Jimin’s birthday twin :( thank you so much for all of the support you give me and my writing. It’s unreal and I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you found this blog. I love having you here and I just adore you. 28 is going to look amazing on you. I hope you enjoy this drabble, it’s for you <3 (it also features a bit of Joon bc you deserve it)

WITH his hand encasing yours, fingers intertwined, he dragged you through the hallway, you giggling as you he told you to hurry up.

“We have about thirty minutes, maybe more,” he told you, turning the corner, Namjoon’s studio door in sight. “Gotta hustle, Dear.”

“You’re gonna yank my arm out of its socket,” you joked, Jimin scoffing as he looked back at you with a fond smile.

“So dramatic,” he teased as he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your body and leading you backwards toward Namjoon’s studio, your hands enclosing over his slim waist as you giggled. “Remind me to get you a crown.”

“Huh?” You asked in confusion, Jimin smirking.

Suddenly, he halted, his arm leaving your body momentarily to knock on the door. “Drama queen,” he told you simply, you huffing as you rolled your eyes, Jimin letting out a light chuckle.

Knocking on the door again, Jimin’s eyes pulled together in question. You both waited in silence for a moment, hearing no “come in” or “one second”; just complete silence, which would have been fairly normal for Yoongi’s studio, but not Namjoon’s. Jimin knocked again, you both waiting for a response, still receiving none.

“Should we just walk in?” He asked, you shrugging against him. Waiting a couple more seconds, Jimin tried the knob, and when it turned, he shrugged and pulled the door open, turning his back to it as he walked backward into it, you peering over your boyfriend’s shoulder to spot Namjoon’s new but very close friend shaking out her hair as Namjoon straightened his posture in his chair, spinning around to look at his intruders.

“Oh?” You said in surprise, Jimin quickly letting you go as he turned around in suspicion.

“Oh, sorry,” your boyfriend immediately said, both of you staring awkwardly at Namjoon as he sat in his chair, his hair slightly disheveled as his friend stood beside him, her hand on her hip as if to look nonchalant. “I didn’t know you were here, my bad,” Jimin explained, the girl shaking her head as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“What are you two up to?” She asked, trying to act normal, despite you and Jimin nearly catching them in a… compromising position, despite the duo’s claim to be ‘just friends’.

“Ah, not much, I just finished recording for a bit,” he told the girl. “We’re actually just heading to do the thing I told you about,” Jimin said, directing his comment to Namjoon, the man’s eyes widening as Jimin spoke. “So I just thought I’d let someone know in case they need me sooner than they expected,” he explained to Namjoon, the older man clearing his throat as he nodded.

“Oh, yeah, cool,” Namjoon continued to nod, his friend holding back a smile. “Have fun,” Namjoon added, smirking as he caught the girl fighting her amusement.

“Yeah,” Jimin said, grabbing your hand. “You too,” your boyfriend noted with a teasing tone, Namjoon snorting as his friend slapped his arm. Leading you out of the room, Jimin chuckled to himself, you following along with an amused smile of your own.

Shutting the door behind you both, you and Jimin looked to each other with knowing expressions. “They’re just friends,” you told Jimin innocently, the man throwing his head back in laughter, falling against you adorably.

“Ahh,” he yelled out, pushing you down the hallway, “so awkward,” he did a little wiggle to physically express his discomfort at catching them as they were up to something.

“Oh shush,” you giggled, “they’re cute. And they’re taking things at their own pace, which we know all about, now don’t we,” you told your boyfriend, the man smiling as he nodded.

“Points,” he noted, you scrunching your nose at him. “Now come on, we got places to be,” he told you, you giggling as he led you to god knows where. Reaching the elevator, you gave him a skeptical look. “Just trust me,” he giggled. “Close your eyes.”

With a bit of hesitance, which was just to tease him, you shut them, allowing him to press the floor number without you watching. Stepping behind you, he placed his hands over your eyes to shield your vision from his pending surprise.

“Where the hell are we going?” You asked through your massive grin, Jimin pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“Patience,” he whispered into your hair.

“I have none,” you added, Jimin giggling as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

When the elevator dinged, the door opening, he gently guided you out, you both taking a few steps forward before stopping. “Ok,” he breathed out. “We’re nearly there.” Spinning your bodies 180 degrees, he continued covering your eyes. “Any guesses?”

“I literally have no clue,” you admitted, just as Jimin’s giggles intermingled with the sounds of a door opening, street noises soon joining the mix. Hit with a rush of cool air, you gasped. “Oh my god, are we on the roof?”

Uncovering your eyes, Jimin stepped back from you as you turned around to see him standing with his arms open, the Seoul city lights shining behind him. “Surprise,” he told you softly, you shaking your head in disbelief.

“Jimin,” you cooed. “This is so cool, oh my god.” Looking around in surprise, you wondered why you had never been up there before. “Wait, I didn’t even know there was access to the roof, since when is this allowed?”

Letting out a light chuckle, he reached out for you, pulling you into him as he held you in a hug, your arms easily wrapping around his waist. “Honestly, I don’t know if it is allowed, which is why I had to tell Namjoon where we are so he can tell me if I’m needed. That way we can hurry down without getting caught,” he chuckled, you pulling away to shoot him a look of shock.

“You’re so bad,” you smiled as you teased him. “Sweet, and unbelievably amazing, but so bad.”

“Thank you,” he smirked. “Come here,” he told you, grabbing your hand and leading you further into the space, allowing you to see the little picnic basket, which you immediately recognized at Jin’s.

“Chim, oh my god, what have you done?” You asked, the man laughing in amusement by your surprise.

“We’ve been a couple for a week now, and I haven’t had time to take you out on a proper date yet,” he told you, turning to look at you. “So I thought maybe this would be a decent alternative until I can take you out.”

With the moonlight and the Seoul skyline reflecting off his face, you were able to make out his bashful expression, his nervousness etched into his pretty features. Driven by pure love and appreciation, you wasted no time in placing your hand to the side of his face, pressing your lips to his as you kissed him passionately.

Since deciding to take the step from friends to lovers, there had been a lot of kissing between the two of you, but this one felt different as you tried to pour every ounce of love and admiration and gratitude you’d developed for him, not just in that moment but over the course of your entire time knowing the man.

No man had ever respected you and cared for you the way Jimin did, and you found it easy to open up to him, which was rare for you. You’d been in love with him for so long, you forgot what it felt like to not love Jimin. And that’s what you wanted to tell him with the kiss.

You were afraid that words would never be enough. Or that you wouldn’t be able to speak the words as you meant them.

Pulling away just slightly, you pecked his lips once more before whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express to you how much I love you, and I’m sorry for that.” Tears began forming in your eyes as you spoke. “But please know, you’ve changed me and my life, and I couldn’t be more grateful for you and your existence.”

Jimin let out a breath of air, as if he had been holding it in, scared of missing a single syllable of your confession. “I-“ he started, searching his overwhelmed mind for the right words. “This really isn’t much, Dear,” he downplayed the thought he put into the evening.

“It’s everything, Chim,” you assured him. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he told you before kissing you repeatedly, you giggling at the action, the kiss becoming perfectly messy, riddled with laughter and smiles. Pulling you against his frame, he hugged you close and tightly, you exhaling into the embrace as you melted in your boyfriend’s arms. “Do you want to see what I brought?” He whispered in your ear, alluding to the picnic basket.

Pulling away from him to look at his face, you nodded. With a stunning smile, he turned away from you, releasing you from his hold as he crouched down next to the basket. Pulling out a bottle of wine, he gracefully used his other hand to model it, you gasping in appreciation.

“Is there even food in there or is it just wine,” you teased, Jimin giggling as he pulled out some insulated lunch boxes. “Wow, my boyfriend, everyone,” you noted, looking around at the city. “Incredible.”

“Jin helped me,” he exposed himself, you giggling as Jimin set the food and wine down. “I did however forget wine glasses, because I’m an idiot,” he told you as he pulled out a pair of plastic cups. “So I stole these from Yoongi’s studio.”

“Resourceful,” you complimented with a grin. “That’s sexy.” With a snort, he put the cups down, grabbing his phone and connecting it to a Bluetooth speaker before starting some music. “You really did plan everything out,” you appreciated, Jimin smiling shyly as he worked on uncorking the wine.

The song that echoed across the rooftop, fading into the night sky, was ‘Sweet’ by Cigarettes After Sex. As you swayed to the song, Jimin pouring the wine into the disposable cups, your eyes were set on him. Looking up at you, he smiled before standing, holding out one of the cups to you.

You know that I’m obsessed with your body

But it’s the way you smile that does it for me.

Jimin’s smile. There really was nothing quite like it in the world. You were obsessed with it; especially when it was directed to you, his expression full of love.

Taking the cup from him, you tapped it against his own. “To us,” you spoke softly, Jimin’s smile only widening, his eyes turning to crescents.

“To us, Dear.” Both of you took a drink of the wine, the swallows a bit larger than what most people would take. And as soon as the slightly bitter liquid slid down your throats, Jimin’s arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his body as he swayed with you.

“I still can’t believe you did all of this,” you told him, Jimin’s gaze scanning over your face thoughtfully.

Cocking his head to the side, he pulled his eyebrows together slightly. “Of course I did this for you,” he told you sincerely. “I want to do more for you. I want to give you everything.”

“You love me in a way that no one ever has,” you whispered. “With my dad,” you started, Jimin nodding in understanding, making it so you didn’t have to elaborate on your father’s absence in your life since you were young. “And my dating history,” you added, your boyfriend’s hand sliding from your lower back to your side, squeezing comfortingly. “It’s hard for me to feel worthy of you sometimes.” The admission had him shaking his head slowly at you.

“You’re worth more than what I can give you,” he assured you while also revealing one of his own insecurities. “But thank you for allowing me to try to love you the way you deserve.”

“Jimin,” you started, your boyfriend talking over you.

“I’m always going to be trying,” he told you firmly. “I promise.”

“I wouldn’t ask you for more, Chim,” you assured him. “What you can give me is more than enough. Never doubt that.”

Leaning toward you, Jimin caught your lips with his own, kissing you passionately, expressing unspoken promises into the action. You knew Jimin was very much in love with you, and though you loved him just as deeply and devotedly, you were still learning to trust yourself with someone as generous and sensitive as your lover.

Resting his forehead against your own, your hand met the side of his face as you cradled his soft cheek. “Jimin,” you breathed out shakily. “Please forgive me if I end up breaking your heart.”

You weren’t sure where the words came from. Perhaps it was the song’s bridge, repeating the lyric, “And I will gladly break it, I will gladly break my heart for you,” and your knowledge that Jimin would do just that for you. Or perhaps it was your internalized belief that you could never treat someone like Jimin the way they deserved to be treated. You didn’t mean to speak the words, but you realized how truly you felt them. If you broke his heart, you wouldn’t just lose a boyfriend, you’d lose your best friend. Your favorite person. Your soulmate. And it would be all your fault.

“Hey,” he interrupted your thoughts, placing a sweet peck to you lips to bring your attention to him. “You won’t break my heart.” Before you could protest, he shook his head. “No, I trust you, Dear.”

You hoped he was right.

Nodding, he smiled comfortingly at you. “I love you,” he told you for the second time that night, your lips curving into a small smile that you just couldn’t hold back.

“I love you, Chim.” The phrase had been exchanged frequently between you both but you didn’t think you’d ever tire of hearing them, or saying them.

As the song faded out, the next one starting, you rested your head against his shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck in a way that made him squirm from being ticklish.

In that moment, the man who owned your heart blissfully happy, you could see the accumulating moments throughout your friendship that led you to this rooftop with him. It was as if it was playing back in your mind like a movie montage on one of those old film reels…

Your first meeting with Jimin on that October night, his birthday, his smile as bright as the street lamps and neon signs shining in the night sky; the time he brought you body wash, handing it to you as you showered, you splashing his face with water, teasing him about sneaking a peak at your naked frame; the countless times he had brought takeout and wine to your apartment after work asking you all about your day as you both downed the bottle, becoming increasingly touchier the more the alcohol influenced your actions; the night you first told him about your childhood, opening up about the absence that had impacted you throughout your life; dancing with him in the studio a few weeks prior, nearly kissing him for the first time before Taehyung barged in cluelessly, asking if you wanted to go get pancakes at 11 pm; and the night you and Jimin finally crossed the line of friendship, just a week ago after two years of holding back, hands feeling every morsel of flesh as you tried to grasp onto the reality of the moment, feeling rushes of excitement and relief, Jimin’s stunning features glowing in the low light of your bedroom as his darkened eyes focused on you and only you.

With the past two years of experiences with this man running through your head, you realized that maybe you didn’t completely trust yourself with loving him quite yet, but it was Jimin. And as much as no one had ever loved you like Jimin did, you also had never loved anyone like you did Jimin.

Placing your trust in the universe that led you into one another’s arms, and more importantly, in Jimin, and his unwavering faith in you, you realized that was enough. This moment, him, it was all enough. Relaxing in his arms, you kissed the side of his neck tenderly.

“I think you’re the end of all my endings,” you whispered, Jimin smiling as he soothed his hand overtop your hip.

“I know I am,” he said simply, you giggling at his surety as he lifted his cup to his lips. Downing the wine in a few gulps, he nodded to you, you smiling before doing the same. Taking the cup from you, he dropped them to the ground, grabbing your hand to pull you against him, leading you in a proper dance as he hummed along with the melody of a song you didn’t recognize.

Soaking in the moonlight, every touch Jimin placed upon your body felt like home while simultaneously sending a rush throughout your frame. Spinning you under his arm, you threw your head back in laughter at nothing but the bliss that came with being with Jimin in this way. Carefree and in love. So fucking in love.

Draping your hands over his shoulders, his find your waist, you sighed contently. “Thank you for always believing in me,” you sincerely expressed your gratitude for the man. His gaze was kind as he watched you carefully. “You help me see the good in myself.”

Jimin’s soft eyes scanned your features, a smile forming on his pretty lips. “I won’t stop until you see what I see,” he told you with a grin. “And even then, I won’t stop.” You giggled at the comment, Jimin pressing his lips to your cheek. “Do you think there’s another us somewhere in the world?” He asked thoughtfully, his orbs staring into yours.

Lightly chewing on your bottom lip, you hummed. “No,” you answered simply, watching as the smile on your boyfriend’s lips widened, his eyes crinkling. “Maybe that’s naïve,” you shrugged, “but I don’t think there’s anyone else on the entire planet quite like you,” you told him. “And I think we’re special.”

“I agree with that last statement,” he nodded cutely. Giggling at his adorableness, you pulled him into another kiss, the man easily falling into step with your lead, arms wrapping fully around your waist as he pulled you flush with his own stature.

With the music humming in the backdrop of the chilly night air, you basked in the rareness of your union, your lips moving against his own. It was that moment that you vowed to always fight for Jimin. Fight for your us. You promised yourself and you promised the man, though he was unaware of it, that you would battle anything that tried to come between you both. Even if it was your own mind. You wouldn’t let him slip away.

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years ago

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hello there ! I believe this is the first time I'm writing you an ask directly. First to all, nice to meet you, I've been following your blog since the time I first got into NCT and since Jaehyun is m

one of my bias I'm super thankful to have been able to find you! 🌸 I saw this was your one anniversary since you posted your first fic ? Congratulations and happy anniversary, I hope you had a good day and you're feeling happy as a tumblr writer !

Okay so, now that I've said all of that, I just wanted to comment on 'The apple of my eye'... I had a really good time while reading it and I was kinda pleasingly intrigued with the general theme of this story. I find it so so interesting when writers inspire their stories from real experience they had. It make the story more realistic and impactful (from my perspective, I felt the emotions x100). I l o v e d the meeting between our two main characters, the way jaehyun had his love at first sight was beautiful to see, even with the ridiculous moment where he fall off (lmao) but humor was really welcomed into this story as it make the reading session really enjoyable <3. I feel like the first segment of the story we looked at it with pink colored glasses, the amounts of compliments and appreciation the two of them had towards each others was endearing, it was a pretty stage of falling in love/having a crush! 🌻 also could I comment how kind and benevolent Jaehyun was towards yn? how could you not love this human being ? djjdjfjf I feLT THE ATTRACTION.

The cameos of some dreamies, aespa, red velvet and 127 members was a real take of breathe, meeting new side characters is really a good way of extending reader's opinion and visual representation of your story (oh God, am I making sense??) but yeah, johnny and wendy teasing jaehyun and yn unrevealed feelings, mark and taeyong's bets on their friends love life and joy being a side supporter of yn's love situation yup, I liked that ! also these side characters were so lovelies and helpful to our main idiots, it make me love them 🥺

turning to the angst side, it's the first time in a while that I'm feeling surprised by the tiny detail of a man being considerate towards a woman personal past feeling like?? I don't know, when he regretted acting on his feelings and leaning towards her to kiss her and then remembered about her past relationship issue, it was.. well welcomed ? i made it sound like a lot of writers write past consent but maybe it is because it's true? it's my opinion bc the stories I mainly read have this thing of writing some physical touch in certain situations and consent is not really approached ^^'

I'm glad you make it a fluff one and yn being brave to moving past her struggles and insecurities and jaehyun being honest and open toward her!

You worked so so well and this is one of my favorite jaehyun's fic, thank you so much for writing, having the courage to post your stories on public and letting us read freely ♡

Also, have here some teacher jaehyun'a visuals (bc why not?)

HI THERE, MY FRIEND! i recognize your url, it's so nice to finally meet you uwu and thank you! one year is such a big deal to me. i honestly didn't think i was going to be here for that long but i'm glad i stayed. and i'm glad jeong jaehyun is my new muse uwu

fun fact: i used to write member x member fics and member (mostly hunhan!) x oc for exo back in 2013-2015.

a lot of writers pull from reality in a way, some make it more obvious than others. i happen to be one that announces it to the world. most if not all all writers write from experiences big or small. it could be a little moment in time where they saw something happen to another person and they think, "oh, I want to write that!" or it's something that directly happened to them and they just add a twist to it!

yo, I just feel like jaehyun is the type to fall fast and fall hard. that's who I see him as, especially because he is an old soul romantic who listens to chet baker.

aND DEAR GOD ABOVE, JAEHYUN IS LITERALLY THE PERFECT GUY WRITTEN FROM THE FEMALE PERSPECTIVE. LIKE LOOK AT HIM. HE'S SWEET, HE'S FUNNY, HE'S HANDSOME. HIS FLAWS ARE CHARMING.

i wanted to make him a highly considerate and patient character because that's what kindergarten teachers usually are. patient, understanding, but they still don't take or tolerate shit. they're extremely empathetic and know how to handle a multitude of situations??? at least the ones I worked with are!! and l love them dearly uwu

i also wanted to add the insecurities on both sides, I wasn't sure if it was shown well with jaehyun but people are saying otherwise so guess I did?

ALSO, CONSENT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME!!! so I am happy to depict it in any way, shape, or form. I'm currently teaching it to my littles: "if you don't like something, you can say 'no.' if they continue and they don't listen, come get me, okay?"

I also love character growth! i struggled with writing long fics (for exo) in the past because I couldn't get my plots to move forward, so I stuck to drabbles. but now my mind screams for character development!! in every!! fic!! that!! i write!!

yO YO YO THIS IS HOW I IMAGINE TEACHER!JAEHYUN. HIS THICK HAIR ALL RUFFLED AFTER RUNNING HIS FINGERS THRU IT OR MAYBE FROM PLAYING GAMES WITH THE KIDS. AAAAAAAAAAAH.

(more teacher!jae x ta!reader may be coming your way, we'll see?)

since you left me a long msg, it's only fair I gave you a decent reply. i even had to put a break in between haha.

have a great day/night, love. you're always welcome to stop by!

#nikki replies #byunfirstlady #feedback #feedback: apple of my eye

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for-a-muse-of-fire · 4 years ago

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oh, but you’re good to me

the wench and the witcher

"oh, but you’re good to me”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Black!OFC - Zahra Auberel. Platonic!Jaskier x Zahra.

Summary: Midaëte brings the height of summer, and a reconciliation.

Warnings: Rated Mature due to brief mention of sex. Please don’t interact if you are under the age of 18.

A/N: Well, what started as a simple reader insert character grew into a fully-formed OC through the course of this series. And now we have reached the end! Well, mostly. I have some random outtakes and drabbles that I’m sure will crop up, but my (eventual) multi-chapter will feature Geralt and Zahra as they navigate some... interesting magical developments.

But, for now, I call this the end of The Wench and The Witcher. Thank you guys so much for your kind words, reblogs, likes - this is honestly the most I’ve written in years and knowing that y’all have enjoyed it warms the cockles of my heart. Title and lyrics under the cut from Hozier’s “Would That I” which I think might be my favorite Hozier song full-stop, hands down.

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty - @wastingmypotential - @inber

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same Watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Layin' waste to my lovin' long ago

“Contracts from the butcher and the miller,” Lucja rattles off. “And Jaskier returned your message – says he’s very much looking forward to performing for the solstice festival.”

She gives a hum as she thumbs through the stack of papers on the desk. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, as well,” she teases.

Lucja’s pretty round face goes pink, making her employer grin. The older woman pauses when she finds an unfamiliar piece of folded parchment among the stack of invoices. Slim brown fingers unfold the sharply folded letter and suddenly her heart is in her throat. “Lucja… where did this come from?”

“Oh… it, ah, came with Jaskier’s reply. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

Though half-tempted to let Lucja burn the letter, she bites her lip and shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Lu’ – that will be all.”

Her young barmaid flashes a sympathetic smile and closes the door behind her. The neatly looped scrawl of the letter makes something around her heart ache. She’d always been surprised by how tidy the Witcher’s handwriting was:

I don’t

This isn’t what

I’m not – fucking shit fuck

The first time I saw you, it was like walking into the light of the sun after half a lifetime in the cold. And it was so fucking cold that night.

You were like summer.

It’s cold again now, without you. I don’t know what I’m doing

Two weeks later:

I wanted want wanted to bring you to see Kaer Mohren. I know you said you like the ocean more than the mountains, but I think this place could change your mind. You would get on with Eskel like a house on fire. He’s more of a southerner, like you.

I told him about the time you tried to teach me to cook and he nearly pissed himself laughing.

Lambert’s a shit. Vesemir already likes you.

You’d like it here. The kitchen is nearly as big as the whole front room of the tavern. Library’s bigger.

Garden’s a fucking nightmare, though.

We could go to the ocean, too. Anywhere you want.

The missives don’t come with any real regularity. A few at a time, a week-long gap, but they never stop. She thinks about writing back, at first, but deciphering where the Witcher is would likely be impossible and… gods, she’s still so damned angry. The White Wolf receives no reply.

Regardless, the letters keep coming.

The thing is, I don’t know what else there is besides The Path - this life of slaying monsters and getting paid in coin. I was told that was all I needed and I believed it for a very long time. There was nothing to challenge that, not until I met you.

You were are so fucking beautiful. And warm, and bright, and vulgar, and kind, and a pain in my ass and I should have told you how much you meant to me, but I couldn’t parse it out until just now, and I am an idiot. And a coward. I thought that telling myself you were an amusement would be enough, that I would be content with warming your bed, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep lying about how much I need you.

I need you, Zee. It feels like I’m missing my fucking sword arm.

The words on the page blur together. She brushes them with her fingertips, almost smiling even as the tears catch in her lashes:

I miss the way you laugh at Jaskier’s dirty songs.

I miss the way you used my legs to keep your feet warm at night.

I miss that fucking rabbit stew.

I miss the way you’d look at me when I walked in the door.

I miss the sounds you make when I’m inside of you. The way you taste.

I miss your eyes. And your smile.

Your voice. Your terrible fucking singing.

You are my home. You’re my harbor and my safe haven.

I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

---

Midaëte approaches. With it, a week’s worth of festivities, and food and drink, leading up to the day of the solstice. It means early mornings in the kitchen and late nights in the tavern. The evenings are balmy, windows and doors thrown open to allow the scent of summer air and night-blooming flowers to drift through.

For a time, she is so busy that she forgets to be heartsore. Geralt’s letters – page after yellowing page – sit tied with a gold ribbon in her desk drawer. Confessions and apologies, promises and rambling stories that she keeps picking up to read again and again. It’s a veritable book, more than he’d ever seen fit to say in person and she’s not sure whether to be infuriated or hopeful, but there’s barely time. Thank the gods.

Business booms, between trades-folk coming in for the market day, then musicians, then families. She drinks a little, dances when there is time; she lets Lucja weave tiny yellow purple flowers into her hair for Midaëte Eve and dresses in white and yellow to enjoy the evening. Or try to, at least. The main room is full almost to bursting, patrons laughing, carousing, and eventually spilling out into the courtyard to dance in the falling dusk.

Zahra watches from the doorway. A few try to tempt her into the circle for a reel and they receive a grateful smile with her refusal. Jaskier, however, will not be deterred.

“You, dear lady,” he croons. “Look too lovely to be hiding in the shadows.”

“Jas…”

“One dance. Just one – you might even have fun by mistake.”

She rolls her eyes, but the bard just grins and lifts her hand for a kiss. He leads her, hand-in-hand out to the courtyard; Jaskier gives a nod to his fellow players and they begin with a sharp beat that eases into a lovely, familiar melody.

“You know this one, ducky?” Jaskier queries with a smile. She nods and he takes the lead.

It’s a simple step, to start with. A sweet back and forth to match the sweet, flowing verse of the song. The touch of Jaskier’s hand on her low back offers guidance, keeps her moving in gentle circles around him until the real movement begins. Swinging, agile steps carry Zahra and her partner around in wide loops. The mingle with other dancers, threading hands to spin back together and then apart.

Jaskier grips her waist across the front, and she follows suit. The dizzying spin turns the world into a wash of summer colors for a moment and she can’t help but laugh. It feels good to be light again.

The bard turns her under his arm and into the hands of the next man. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where she considers bowing out and going back to her corner, but the tabor still thrums in her blood and it’s such a beautiful night.

Still smiling, she curtsies, and is lead back through the steps again. Her partner leads easily, light of foot and loose of tongue – from her ale, more like than not – but he’s kind, and sweet, and so funny that she’s nearly in tears when she’s suddenly spun away to her next partner. She catches the fabric of her skirts to add a flourish to the spin; the soft yellow cotton dances with her.

When spins to a stop, she sees black, at first. Matte black buttons, black tunic shirt – worn, but cleaner than it usually is. The silver wolf’s head medallion sparks in the torchlight.

Zahra looks up into the face of Geralt of Rivia and the music goes dull behind the roar of blood in her ears. It feels a bit like standing on a ledge cliff and looking down to gauge the fall. She feels dizzy, and terrified, and wonderfully breathless. Heart in her mouth, she spies Jaskier out of the corner of her eye.

The bard grins. Bastard.

“Zahra…”

The Witcher’s voice rumbles through her like soft summer thunder. Strong fingers grip hers, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips. His honey-gold eyes are more earnest and honest than she’s ever seen them – he asks the question without moving his lips. Zahra nods.

Geralt leads her in the dance and everything falls away.

She hears the music, feels it sing through her, but her focus remains on the white-haired mutant at her side. His hand spans her back, warm through her dress and stays; the lightest pressure of his fingertips, or palm, guides her to turn, or step, or pivot in time with him. It shouldn’t be surprising to her, how well he moves – she’s seen him fight, and his grace with a sword, and how would dancing be any different? He doesn’t look away from her once and the heat of his gaze flushes over her. The Witcher very nearly smiles.

Geralt turns her under his arm, guides her through the last few measures of the song. He steps away, takes his warmth with him, and bows. Zahra curtsies in return.

The crowd, the rest of the world, rushes back over them. The townsfolk whistle, and stomp, for a moment determined to swarm in and start up another country dance, and Geralt grips her hand tight for a moment. She sees him hesitate before he asks, simply, “Can we talk?”

Most of the party has spilled into the streets, leaving the tavern itself practically empty. Lucja still keeps to her spot behind the bar, green eyes going wide when she spies Zahra and her guest in tow. The girl’s pretty face splits into a knowing smile that makes Zahra’s face go hot.

It’s mostly dark in her study. The small hearth fire has gone to smoldering embers, and it gives her the opportunity to light a few candles and collect her utterly scattered thoughts. She flicks out the last taper and finally looks up at Geralt. He stands just inside the closed door, just as he used to. It’s familiar – it feels like it’s been years, or decades, or maybe just a few hours. His honey-colored gaze still holds a heat that sings over her skin. She drops her eyes to the desk.

The last letter sits there, creased and folded from how many times she’s read it. Zahra picks at the parchment. Keeping her focus on Geralt’s neat lettering seems easier than looking at the Witcher himself. “Did Jaskier put you up to this?” she teases half-heartedly.

Geralt exhales on a chuckle. “Something like. Threatened to garrote me with a lute string.”

She smiles, in spite of herself. When she lifts her head and meets his eyes, it takes a moment to catch her breath. For a few heartbeats, she simply stares. Gods, he is still so beautiful. She swallows hard and feels her throat go dry.

“Did you mean what you wrote?” she asks.

“You know I did, Zee.”

Gold eyes go guarded again. He doesn’t go totally cold, but she can see the way he builds up his walls to prepare for the worst. He steps forward. Second-guesses – stops.

“What I do – what I am – I can’t change it,” he rumbles. “I’m still a Witcher, Zahra. A mutant. I can’t… I can’t give you normal, sweetheart – ”

“Gods, Geralt - fuck normal.”

---

“Fuck normal.”

She says it with such passionate certainty that it startles a laugh out of him. The soft yellow of her skirt floats like woven sunlight around her legs. Like the sun, it almost hurts to look at her, but fuck all, that’s all he wants to do. He watches her face, watches her chew her lip; feels his slow pulse try to speed up when she steps closer. His fingers itch to curl around her waist.

“I never asked for normal, Geralt,” she whispers. The way her voice cracks pulls tight around his heart. “I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s it. Can… can you give me that, or no?”

The Witcher’s footfalls carry him to her. He studies her face; re-acquaints himself with the curve of her cheek and the dimple that presses there. She all but melts into his touch when his thumb brushes her cheek. He pulls her into the circle of his arms. She’s still soft, and warm; he closes his eyes, feels his muscles go lax with relief when she holds fast, locking her arms around his back. Geralt presses his face against the smooth curve of her shoulder.

It feels like stepping into the light of the sun after ages in cold and rain. “I love you, Zahra,” he breathes.

Her soft, tearful laugh settles warm into his heart. “I love you, Geralt.”

He gives a pleased murmur, lets the tip of his nose trail lazy circles over her shoulder. When he inhales, the warm, soft smell of her skin eases back into his lungs. From shoulder to neck, the Witcher draws in slow breaths and ghosts his lips over the exposed skin he finds until Zahra shivers. “What are you doing, Witcher?” she whispers, breathless.

“Hmm… taking your scent back,” he mumbles. “I missed this smell.”

His lips ease along the shell of her ear. She still gasps when he nips at the crux of her jaw. “I missed you, love,” he growls.

Geralt takes his time. He savors the smell and the taste of her skin, humming lowly when Zahra’s hands grip at his back. The sweetness of her begins to bloom with heat, with the richness of desire – want – and when he sets his teeth gently against her pulse point, she moans delicately. Insistent fingers tangle in his hair; she whispers his name and pulls him to her lips. She kisses him like a woman starved and it feels like his heart might thunder its way free of his chest. He lifts her onto the edge of the desk and comes to stand between her parted thighs, gathering the soft yellow cotton of her skirts up. Her fingers yank at the buttons on his trousers.

It’s a quick, desperate of coupling. Mingled breath and bitten off sighs – greedy kisses with fingers gripped in the front of his shirt. She flutters hotly around his cock with a whimper and a curse. He groans against her mouth when he comes. Zahra drinks down the noise with a grin on her lips.

Geralt stays put for more than a year. It’s good.

The Path still calls, and he still follows, but she finds she’s able to let go of the fear. It’s no longer a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’ in terms of Geralt’s return. And if he knows it’s going to be a long journey, or if the mood simply strikes him, he writes -

I miss you.

I love you.

Sometimes no more than a line, sometimes full paragraphs – even pages – but he always tells her when he plans to return. When he’ll be home.

It’s nearly spring next time he rides back in, market day in full swing as he passes through the township gate with Roach at his side. Vendors call their wares, families and merchants wander the stalls as he peers out from the shadow of his cloak. He finds the trail of Zahra’s scent past the cloying smell of cut flowers and rounds to corner to find her chatting with the butcher’s daughter.

The younger woman catches his gaze. Geralt watches the girl grin and give his woman – his woman – a nudge, nodding in his direction. Zahra is already smiling when she turns, and the Witcher has the pleasure of watching her face flash from surprise to joy in the space of a heartbeat. She moves to him, a walk that becomes a jog, and then a final sprint that launches her into his arms. He curls his free arm tight around her waist. Immediately, he has his face pressed to her hair. Zahra’s laughter rings softly in his ears when she draws back, just enough to look up into his face.

At her throat, the polished wolf’s tooth is bright against her brown skin. “Welcome home, my love,” she murmurs.

The greeting settles warm over him like the sunlight. Geralt pulls her close again, kissing her in full view of half the town. She shivers sweetly in his arms and pulls her fingers through his hair. He hears a wolf-whistle, and a smattering of applause that makes Zahra giggle against his mouth.

“People are staring,” she teases softly.

He smirks. “Let them,” he tells her before kissing her once more. She tastes of clover honey.

She smells of sunshine.

She feels like home.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt x ofc #the witcher #oc: zahra auberel #orignal character #the witcher netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles

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thecursedhellblazer · 4 years ago

Note

Boxing Day and Mistletoe for the December meme!

December Positivity meme || Accepting !

★ Boxing Day: tag someone whose writing style you love

(( Uuuh, I definitely have quite a few people to tag for this one. I had the luck to meet a fair number of very talented people on this hellsite, and being able to write with them is a blessing! And please consider this as a (alphabetical) list of recommendations! ))

@adventurepunks : ‘cause in this lair we love and cherish Bianca (who, aside from a great RP partner, has also found the will to become friends with me, something I am very grateful for). She honestly can write almost any sort of thread, from the silly or fluffy one, to action based threads, to heavy ones with introspection, and make each of them a great ride. Also, we allow each other to indulge in our macabre streak, which is a huge added bonus. And she’s a gal who knows her lore (so a rare kind).

@blizzardmuses : I love Bea and I love her portrayals. So far, I have RPed only with her female muses, but I’m sure that she can write her male muses just as well. I love how she’s able to give the right amount of personality and energy said muses deserve (which is rare considering that it’s much harder to find female muses in the rpc), both in what she has them do and in how she writes them (body language and dialogues). The vitality you can find in her writing is refreshing.

@cosmosfated : Yet another great writer. I’m not even sure where to start from. Their character is one of the most complex I’ve met so far and their writing style adapts perfectly to Fleur’s quirks and moods. They also manage to hint things in between the lines, without telling you all you’d like to know and leaving you wonder (much like their character does). Their replies are always so very lively, it’s a pleasure to receive them.

@rapxir : Katie is another amazing writer I have the luck to write with and a very good friend. Writing is her thing and it shows. Not only in her writing style, but also in the complexity of her character. She’s a very adaptable writer, so she can easily shift between different themes and fandoms too, no matter how different they are. Also, she manages to put a lot of attention in the psychology of her character, through writing small details of her reactions, and that’s a delightful way to learn about Ruby every time a bit more.

@thedemonconstantine : I’m pretty sure that a lot of people who follow this blog (and more) follow K’s too, so that doesn’t leave me much to say I guess. I’ll just quote something that someone said and on which I totally agree: K is the best when it comes to quick actions scenes. That’s pretty much almost set in stone xD

(( A special mention for @darkdabbling , whom I’m just starting to discover. I already love how detailed their writing is, full of introspection and elegant! I’m really looking forward to write with them properly! ))

★ Mistletoe: tag your shipping partners

(( I’ll be tagging again the people I mentioned in the other question, don’t mind me! Also, I’m including platonic ships too, ‘cause they are as important as the romantic ones! ))

@thedemonconstantine : John & Demon John are my bloody guilty pleasure and I’m so not getting over them any time soon (which is both a good and a very bad thing). I can’t remember the last time I got so invested in a ship, in all its shades. Besides those two twats, I have two of my fave platonic ships: Tim & John (and I have to thank K for allowing me to discover both them as a pair, full of parallels and with that mentor/pupil dynamic where you can’t tell who is what, and Timmy as a character) and Chas & John (love them in canon, love the additional we have created in our interactions. They deepened even more their not always healthy bond and I love their shenanigans). Special mention: John & Yoyo.

@adventurepunks : John & Nick are...complicated xD Under some points of view they are still sniffing each other and I love the slow burn we are building, with a step forward and then a few steps backwards. Seeing them getting to know each other, learning how to deal with their differences, bonding...and we all know how it ends (sweet tragedy). Also, John & Zee! We still haven’t developed them as much as the blokes, but I already enjoy their bantering and soft friendship. I can’t wait to work on them too. And of course, the thruple dynamics (which is still a work in progress). Special mention: Francis.

@thegreenxrcher : John & Oliver are another of my main ships on this blog. They are my fault, I’ll confess it, but it seems that all has turned out well, so I’m proud of it xD They really compliment each other, with both their differences and similarities. John also has an odd dynamic with Shar’s demon OC...and I’m curious to see where that will go.

@rapxir : Ah, Ruby, John’s other unofficially adopted kid. I love the parallels between them and how protective they are of each other, even if they bicker a lot and poke each other, hiding their real shared affection. They are just...so good for each other. And they totally deserve each other xD Special mention; Bump.

@blizzardmuses : John & Kori make me crying in all the possible sense of the term. She is the sort of friend John needs, with her unshakable hope and all her efforts to see the bright side. At the same time, John can definitely teach her how to see and deal with the darkest sides of life. Plus, they have a lot trauma in common and that alone is fated to bring them together.

@paradiseturnedhell : John & T’s Nick are quite the odd pair. Enemies and friends, adversaries and lovers, hunter and prey (and this last two roles get switched often). I enjoy the different dynamics they have and how their relationship slowly shift towards one side or the other. It opens a lot of interesting doors!

@obsessionsarenotforheroes : Miss T again, this time John & Jessica. They got so close and so...soft with each other, and I was not expecting it. They found in each other the kind of friend they needed and that makes me so happy, tbh. I might have a preference for angst (which these two offer in abundance), but it’s nice to see them helping each other out of their respective abysses too.

@cosmosfated : John & Fleur are...something else. I wouldn’t know how to describe their relationship and it’s pretty clear that they don’t know for sure either...which makes things even more interesting. I absolutely love how they can go from being complete idiots to completely serious, and all there’s in-between. They are unpredictable and that’s all part of the fun.

@xstabcastx : John & Ava are definitely my fave BrOTP from the Arrowverse adaptation. As much as I love John & Sara’s friendship, Lina made me fall in love with our two idiots. They are such an unlikely pair of friends and that makes them perfect x3

@laughter-in-white : I honestly don’t know what to say about John & Croptop!J aside from the fact that they are fuckin’ hilarious x'D They are yet another unlikely pair, perhaps the most unlikely, and yet, at the same time, they have more in common than they realise. And the fact that the mun’s portrayal is a delight in general just make it all much, much better!

#(( true seeing stone ::ooc:: ))#(( sorry for taking so long anon! ))#(( thank you for the ask!! :D ))#(( positivity ))#(( ...I hope i haven't forgotten anyone >.> ))#(( I slept REAL bad for the second night in a row =.=" ))

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chaoticspacefam · 4 years ago

Text

OC Interview Meme - Aria Saal

I was tagged for this by @raven-of-domain-kwaad , thank you, this one is super fun! :D I shall tag, if you want to, no pressure as always! : @mercurypilgrim , @thelastenvoyyy , @pauletta-00

Aria first this time! Cause I think her answers would be the most amusing :’D though I do have another tag for this that I’ll do later and yes it is absolutely gonna be one of the twins skhsjgdjgd

-She strolls in rather casually, two Tuk’ata walking either side of her (much to the interviewer’s shock and surprise), and sits down. Both Sith hounds sniff reproachfully at the second being, but at a sharp look from Aria they snort and settle themselves across her feet-

? Name ? -She notices their nervousness and smiles reassuringly- “Oh, don’t worry about them, honey. They only bite if I tell them to.” -Aria winks, sitting forward slightly in her seat to offer the interviewer her hand for a handshake- “Aria Saal-Shenly, but you can call me Commander Canis if you’d like. That’s how most people know me.”

? Are you single ? -She raises an eyebrow curiously and asks, voice tinged with amusement- “Are you hitting on me? Sorry to all the adoring fans out there but I’m happily married.”

? Are you happy ? “Right now? Yeah, I guess so. I guess so.”

? Are you angry ? -Her head tilts thoughtfully for a moment, then she shakes it and smirks a little- "Not at this time, but I’m known to get quite angry when the situation calls for it, yes. I’m sure you’ve heard that much of me by now~”

? Are your parents still married ? "Oh, no. No...they uh, they weren’t that fond of each other, in the end. Some relationships are better left in the past.” -When questioned further, she waves the enquiry off and seems reluctant to elaborate other than a simple- “They were both good to me in their own way, but they were definitely not good together together, y’know?”

NINE FACTS

? Birth Place ? “Onderon. Haven’t been back since I was real little, though. Wonder how much it’s changed.”

? Hair Color ? "Black,” -Aria lifts a strand of her fringe pointedly as she talks about it- “Though the blonde bit in my fringe is a dye job, wanted something different to uhhh, have a change.” -another evasive answer that she refuses to elaborate on. Any attempts to push one are quickly silenced by a warning growl from the Tuk’ata accompanying her and the topic quickly moves on-

? Eye Color ? -She blinks, then frowns, and whether it’s in annoyance or amusement isn’t immediately clear, but she gestures at herself and asks- “I am here, right? You see me? But I guess if you’re askin’ what colour they were before they went all “Sithy”...” -she makes air quotations around the word “Sithy”- “Then the left one was brown and the right one was grey.”

? Birthday ? "Summer, 3667 BBY.”

? Mood ? "Eh, pretty neutral, I guess?”

? Gender ? "Female, last time I checked.” -She chuckles in amusement-

? Summer or winter ? "Winter’s nice, snow is still kinda novel for me, it’s not something I saw regularly growing up.” -this one takes some thought, but eventually she settles on the answer-

? Morning or afternoon ? "Eh, I don’t really have a preference. Morning, I guess, if I had to pick one.” -she shrugs-

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

? Are you in love ? -She smiles wistfully at the admission, chuckling to herself- "If you’d asked me that about 10 years ago I’dve laughed in your face and called you a karkin’ idiot. But yeah, yeah I am.”

? Do you believe in love at first sight ? "Not really...I think it takes time. You have to get to know a person first before you can develop the feelings, and then it takes more time after that to accept, to them and to yourself, that that’s what the feelings are. I don’t think that can happen just from looking at someone.”

? Who ended your last relationship ? "Hold on a second.” -Aria holds up a hand to indicate a pause, drawing herself up to twist around in the chair and yell to someone waiting backstage- “Babe! Did we ever figure out who broke it off for real?!” -a muffled voice familiar to anyone who’s been watching the Alliance broadcasts on the HoloNet calls back “what the hells kind of question is that?!” and Aria answers- “I dunno but they wanna know! It was you, right? Yeah, yeah I know it was my fault but that’s not what the question was!” -she quickly adds as the other person starts to protest, another grumble is heard and eventually Aria turns around to face the interviewer again, nodding almost to herself- “It was her. That’s my wife, by the way.” -she grins at the confused look on the interviewer’s face and adds- “Yeah uhh, I believe you’d call it a “lover’s spat”? But an extended one, and in Va’s defence, I deserved it. I was a real dick to her. But then I did some self-reflecting and cleaned up my act and here we are, so I guess that old adage has some truth after all, love wins~”

? Have you ever broken someone’s heart ? "Yep. You wanna hear more about it you’ll have to ask Va sometime.” -She points over her shoulder backstage with her thumb-

? Are you afraid of commitments ? -This question makes her grin sheepishly, but at least the answer seems to be an honest one- "I used to be, yeah. Maybe I still am, a little. But not to her, not anymore.”

? Have you hugged someone within the last week? -Aria leans forward and props her elbow up on her knee to look the interviewer dead in the eyes as she asks simply- “Do I look like a hugger to you?”

? Have you ever had a secret admirer ? "I probably have, and do? But if I knew about them it wouldn’t be a secret now, would it sweetie?”

? Have you ever broken your own heart? -this question seems to genuinely confuse Aria and her brow furrows deeply as she thinks about it, then takes it a little literally- “How would you do that...? I guess, yeah? There was that time I crashed a TIE fighter and got impaled by the bulkhead and almost died. My heart stopped for a couple minutes there before dad and Vano pulled me outta the wreck and got me into a medbay.”

SIX CHOICES

? Love or lust ? -Aria smiles mysteriously- “I think they both have their merits. Younger me would’ve said lust without hesitation, but now...I think a little of both is healthy.”

? Lemonade or iced tea ? "Lemonade.” -she answers this one without hesitation and you get the sense by “things”, she means alcoholic beverages- “You can mix a lot of things with lemonade, iced tea, not so much.”

? Cats or Dogs ? -at this question, the hounds at her feet lift their heads and fix her with beady-eyed stares, almost as if they are expecting an answer- “Cats.” -she answers much too quickly and to their consternation as both rear their heads further and snap their jaws at her- “I’m KIDDING, I’m kidding, sheesh, settle down ya goofballs!!” -she cackles with laughter, slapping the larger of the two on the flank with one hand affectionately while the other scratches the second behind the ears until they settle down again- “Definitely dogs. These two idiots are great, I love them.”

? A few best friends or many regular friends ? "I would say I have quite a few acquaintances, but not really friends, so...a few best friends. It’s good to have contacts in case you need favours, but unless you know you can trust them it’s best not to let them get too close.”

? Wild night out or romantic night in ? "Come on now, I’m sure you know enough of me by now that you know I like to drink. I’ll take a night out on the cantinas any day, sweetie.” -she grins again-

? Day or night ? -the grin persists into the next answer- "Definitely night time. It’s quiet and peaceful, and the dogs like it. We go for a lot of walks at night when everyone’s asleep. Old habits die hard.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

? Been caught sneaking out ? "I wouldn’t have been very good at it if I got caught, would I~?” -she taps the side of her nose with a smirk- “If you’re asking if I have snuck out, then yes. But got caught? Never.”

? Fallen down/up the stairs ? -Aria snorts with laughter this time, slapping a hand off her knee- “Personally? No. But I could tell you some funny ass stories about other members of the Alliance that have, y’know, if this wasn’t going live on the HoloNet. I ain’t a snitch, sorry honey!”

? Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? "Yes. It took me time to realise that...that was okay, but I did.”

? Wanted to disappear ? -Aria looks genuinely guilty this time, dropping her gaze to her fingers, intertwined restlessly in her lap in silence for a moment before she finally speaks up again- "Wanted to, actually did it, broke my wife’s heart letting her think I was dead for five years. I fucked up bad on that one, and I’ll admit to that.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

? Smile or eyes ? "Smile. People can lose eyes, but you can’t really lose a good smile.”

? Shorter or Taller ? "I mean...most people I meet are taller than me.” -she smirks and gestures at herself a third time-

? Intelligence or Attraction ? “You sayin’ people can’t have both? You’ve met Vano.”

? Hook-up or Relationship ? "I think it’s subjective, depending on the person. I did a lot of hooking up when I was younger, but now I’m pretty happy in my relationship. But a long-term, committed thing isn’t ideal for everyone, you should do whatever makes you happiest.”

FAMILY

? Do you and your family get along ? -She looks a little sad, maybe wistful- "I don’t really have any living family left, not blood-family, anyways.” -it doesn’t last though, and she quickly perks up again with another smile- “But I’ve got a brother-in-law, and an adopted younger sister of sorts, that I’m very close with. Plus my crew, they’re like my family now and I’d say we get on pretty great, yeah.”

? Would you say you have a “messed up life” ? -the wording of this question seems to amuse her, and she lets out a long, quiet whistle- “I guess so, yeah. It’s been pretty crazy. My parents are dead, which I don’t wanna go into the details of, people keep trying to kill my wife (fuck you, Arcann and Vaylin) and now the Republic and Empire are back on their bullshit and trynna get the Alliance stuck in the middle so yeah, it’s messed up. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

? Have you ever ran away from home ? -the guilty, awkward grimace paints across her features again- “Yeaahhh, I uhh, I did do that once. Probably shouldn’t have, but I found my way back in the end.”

? Have you ever gotten kicked out ? "I guess the Jedi kicked me out when they threw my ass in jail after the whole “helped the invasion on Tython” thing? That counts, right? Not that it bugged me, I was lookin’ for excuses to leave and go home for a while.”

FRIENDS

? Do you secretly hate one of your friends ? "Secretly, noooo. I think that dirty laundry got aired a long time ago, most of the ones that mattered came back now. So no, no I don’t.” -she blows out another breath halfway through the question and slumps back in the chair, one of the Tuk’ata sitting up with a concerned rumble and settling its head in her lap once she drops the leg she had crossed back to the floor-

? Do you consider all of your friends good friends ? "Yeah. I would say so, now. They’re a good bunch of people. I’m lucky to have them.”

? Who is your best friend ? "I don’t think I could say I have one single best friend, there’s a handful of ‘em.” -she admits, brightly, with another shrug- “Vano, of course. She’s been my friend since we were kids, even before the rest of the feelings happened, and she’s always been there for me. Qyzen, too, though. He’s stuck by me through a lot of the bad shit. And then Merak and Ziri, who helped me through a pretty rough patch in my life. I probably would’ve gotten myself killed if it weren’t for them.”

? Who knows everything about you ? "Normally I wouldn’t admit to this one.” -Aria quirks an eyebrow, apparently struck by being honest yet again, for once in her life- “But my wife, Vano. When you’re as close as we are, it’s kind of hard to hide things from each other, not that we try to. We don’t.”

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #swtor OCs #oc interview meme #tagged meme #swtor oc: aria saal #jedi consular #dark side jedi consular #swtor oc: chwûq and taral the tuk'ata #tuk'ata #this one was super fun #i enjoyed working on this a lot actually #and i'm defo doing a second one #look out for it later in the week!#:'D

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did-i-do-this-write · 4 years ago

Note

Started writing this ask 2 days ago or so. Had a break down. Bon appetite.

2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 21, 22 (because I love hearing you talk about your wip. Also you don't have to do all of these cuz there are a lot)

AHHHHHH SARAH!!!! it makes me so happy that you care so much I just- 😭 your support means the world to me, ily!!!!! I answered them all, just for you!!!!! Also so sorry this took so long I procrastinated, whoops

2. Tell us about what you’re looking forward to writing - in your current project or a future project

Ohhhhhh, so much!!!!! But the first thing that comes to mind is the development of my OC ship that I have dubbed Ocean Breeze! It’s just two gay idiots pining after one another and their friends shouting at them to just go out already. It’s wonderful and I love them.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be asked to write all of the set-up and context it would need?

I actually don’t think I have any of these scenes planned for my original stories… so far, at least, all of the scenes I want to be included in the story have a place to go so I will write them eventually. A blessing very rare for a writer, I know haha

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I uh… I’m not gonna lie, I’m not particularly proud of any of my original works as of right now. I’ve been working on a lot of fanfic since quarantine started and I’ve improved so much since I touched Paragon that it just feels… dull. So uh- I plead the fifth lol.

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

It’s a combination between Sky and Kay. I made them sisters for a reason. They are two halves of myself and I shamelessly admit that, put together, they are a sort of self-insert.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Absolutely but also I’ll read anything. I have been reading more fantasy/sci fi as of late because I’ve realized how much I love it, but I’ve read almost every genre at some point XD

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Panster or planster? Do you wish you were the other?

I’ve actually become both a drabble writer and a longfic writer as of late? I think both are great practice. Drabbles help practice being concise and telling a story in a limited amount of words whereas longfics require more discipline and thinking. Also, I am a P L A N N E R. Sometimes I plan so much I don’t write. It do be a problem :/

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as?

I know it’s probably never gonna happen but I would LOVE to see Paragon as a show. Maybe like 13 episodes with a few seasons to tell the whole story. Animated or live action, both would probably work. That would be so amazing, omg!

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

I do reread my own work sometimes and it’s always super nostalgic for me. I remember where I was at that point in my life and where I was mentally when I wrote it. For instance, I have a fic I wrote right before moving from my childhood home and I found it the other day… It hit me man. It wasn’t good, but just… the memories, you know?

I’m a sap, sue me.

-----

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

#ask and you shall receive #thank you for the ask!#harps for days #zac speaks #writing #my wips #paragon

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lisinfleur · 5 years ago

Text

T&T - Chapter 1: Castle of Glass

Author’s Notes | Hey guys! Welcome to this new series! This is an old idea inspired by THIS drabble that comes from one of my first celebrations here on Tumblr. Special thanks to @honestsycrets, who helped me to develop this OC. I hope you guys enjoy this work with me! Info | Viking Age AU, fully out of the storyline of the series! Words | 3002 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of violence and murderous intents, curse, mentions of sex.

"Take me down to the river-bend Take me down to the fighting end Wash the poison from off my skin Show me how to be whole again"

Castle of Glass (Linkin Park, 2012)

"Who's Freydis? You can call me Katya... Queen... Katya!"

The sounds of her scandalous laughs were still echoing into his brain as he was dragging his dirty and crippled body on the mud of the ground once again.

The same mud he fought so hard to get rid of. The same body he broke so many times to see standing... Walking...

"What? I told you, Oleg... He was the weaker. A half-dozen of promises and he was eating in my hands..."

Fool.

From all his brothers, she chose the one whose heart was more easily deceivable. It would have been Sigurd if he didn't have cut his brother's heart in two not far from that day, but it was his. His need... His craving for dreams that now he felt could never be his.

"Mighty God, Ivar! Of course, it is not your child! How dumb do you need to be to believe you could make me a child when you weren't a man not even to fuck me? Even more to seed my womb..."

Now, like a shattered castle made of thin glass, everything he ever conquered was gone, along with the braces her bastard of a husband ripped from his legs and the crutch he ensured to break in front of Ivar's eyes. Destroyed like his pride... And his heart, broken by the moans of pleasure of the woman he once thought loved him; her naked breasts bouncing with Oleg's hips hitting in the middle of her legs, careless of the swollen belly he so many times worshiped, full of another's child he once thought was his own.

A fool. That's what he was. He was no god. And unlike he believed, maybe Björn wasn't the only brother the gods had abandoned. Maybe his gods were indeed fallen as Oleg screamed at his face when they stood at the iron doors of Kattegat, throwing him like a bag of trash with nothing but his clothes to survive the winter outside, dumped from his homeland like an outcast where he once was the king...

Maybe Ragnar's blood was curse inside his veins and like Sigurd, all of them were cursed. All sons of Ragnar would somehow face terrible destinies to maybe pay for his father's greed in leaving his simple farm to become a king.

Or maybe it was his own curse. Maybe it was the curse he attracted to himself by sacrificing that woman instead of Lagertha at the fire. The curse he attracted upon himself with the rage of the gods for he believed Freydis... No... Not Freydis. Katya's words... About his blood being divine. About him being more than just a man.

"For me, you're a god..."

His fingers clenched and his fist hit the ground once again, furious. Maybe the fury was what was keeping him alive and warm enough since the road was muddy around him and he had no proper clothes to cover himself. His own were dirty and he could feel they were wet. Soon the wounds in his legs would be infected. Oleg was right after all.

"I won't get my blade dirt with the rotten blood of Ragnar Lothbrok in your veins. I don't need to... Go. Drag your lame butt out of my kingdom, you rag of a man! I won't lose my time with you anymore."

He could swear he saw a smile on Katya's face and listened to her saying ironically that he wouldn't survive the winter before the doors of Kattegat were closed in his face.

Ivar couldn't really measure how long he had crawled without a destiny. Nor the many tears of pure rage he had already cried away from any eyes that could see his fury. First, he swore with clenched fists and teeth that he would come back and rip Oleg's heart from his chest! And sacrifice their child to the gods as a gift for his victory. And fuck Katya until she was ripped beyond healing just to expose her naked and ragged for everyone who wanted to see how much of a man he could be.

Now he was starting to believe he wouldn't really survive the cold unless he was able to find some warm place to settle down for a good night of rest and something more than raw roots to eat. With his eyes stupidly blue and his legs aching enough to make his movements harder than never in his life, Ivar was really thinking the gods' hands were against his chest, pushing him back, forcing him to give up and die that insignificant and unmemorable way.

The great, great Ivar the Boneless, frozen to death in some stupid road in the middle of nowhere. What a horrid fate! Even Sigurd among his brothers found his way to Valhalla, and there he was, sitting on the road, pulling his legs painfully to rest them against a stone and check on their wounds, trying to keep them dryer than his wet trousers could permit.

And as if his pain wasn't enough, before he could yell and warn, a woman came running out of nowhere, stumbling in his legs, breaking one of them before falling in the mud with a surprised squeal.

If he didn't have broken bones as a routine in his life, his scream of pain would have been heard from Kattegat for Oleg and Katya's pleasure. But all Ivar did was growling, infuriated, like a wounded animal that someone decided to kick for an unknown reason.

He thought about yelling at the woman and missed his daggers to sink one of them in her leg and give her a small fraction of the pain she increased in his body a thousand times. However, the curiosity was bigger than his anger when he saw the woman rolling at the mud with her cloak that was once so clean, covering her whole body with that dirty thing and sitting beside him as fast as she could, shrinking by his side, holding one of his arms.

Why the fuck was that woman doing this?

"Please... I beg your forgiveness and I promise on the gods and their sacred halls, I'll care for any wounds I have caused you, but please... Do not deliver me to them!" she mumbled, causing Ivar's expression to twist even more, utterly taken aback by her words.

"Who are you talking about, woman? What is..." he didn't have time to ask.

She shrunk under the hood and against his body and soon two men passed running in the same direction she was going before. They ran a little forward and not finding a trace of their prey, they came back. One of them roughly pushing Ivar's shoulder, speaking in a harsh tone as if he was somehow obligated to answer whatever they wanted to know.

"You... Crippled!" the man said, attracting the fierce blues of Ivar towards their face.

Oh, how he wanted to have his daggers now...

"Did you see a woman... Gorgeous silhouette, rounded breasts, curly black hair... Did she pass through here?"

Ivar kept looking at them for a moment. He could demand some gold from those bastards for the woman. He could get gold or silver enough to pay for a ride in a chariot and it would save his life for one more day.

But he could also sell her and receive nothing, for they were two enemies and he was only one, unarmed, one leg painfully broken, and his weakened body. They could just kill him and take her without paying him anything... She promised to care for her mistakes...

"Beyond crippled are you mute as well?" the man spat, grumpy. "These parents nowadays are too much a bunch of cunts... Too loose to get rid of a child even in this pitiful state, look at this bastard? Your father should have left you to the wolves, son!"

"I'm not your son," Ivar answered, angrily.

His voice sounded hoarse.

"And I saw no woman if that's what you wanna know. The only woman around is my sister beside me, who's sick with a contagious disease I wouldn't come too close and risk to take from us. Now get the hell out of our way... We have already enough burdens to deal with someone else's tasks!"

The two hunters stepped back, taking some distance from them both.

"Odin..." one of them mumbled. "May Eir have mercy and Hella take your lives soon. Why the fuck did they let you live? Fuck..."

"Let's go, Mir. We cannot lose time. The bitch must be going to Kattegat. It is not so far from here and we can get her there, let's go!" the other warned before they left, following the road Ivar had dragged himself through for the last three days and a half.

He still waited for a little more until the two bastards couldn't be seen anymore at the end of the road and then, Ivar turned himself to the woman by his side.

"I saved you. Now you owe me. What is happening and who are you, woman?" he asked, harshly, as she pulled the hood from her head, looking around to be sure the two hunters weren't after her anymore.

"Well... I'm Iliana," she mumbled, getting rid of the muddy cloak and looking at him. "I'm a whore and I stole their gold," she lied.

Of course, she lied. Ivar sighed, looking at her.

After Katya, he could smell the scent of a lie kilometers away from him...

"Now tell me if I h..." her voice was cut when his heavy hand held her wrist in a tight grip.

"I might be a cripple, but I'm not an idiot. Don't treat me as if you didn't owe me your life... Why were those hunters running after you, Iliana?"

His eyes were fierce and for the first time since she left her master's house, she felt fear.

Iliana had passed through several hands to know that glare in Ivar's eyes wasn't something you could play with...

"They're slave hunters... And my master wants me back. But I won't go back to his hands unless one of them decides the payment is not enough for the work of getting me alive and wants to take my corpse for him to use!" she grunted, pulling her hand from Ivar's grip, massaging the wrist his strong fingers almost broke.

Ivar straightened the gloves he managed to keep from his leather armor that was taken from him by Oleg and his men, looking at her with the same fierceness in his eyes he was throwing towards those men.

So, she was a fugitive... It could be interesting to him. Maybe someone more was searching for her and he could indeed find a way to sell her in order to get enough money for his needs. Something that he would think until they were in the next city. For now, she could be useful.

"You didn't tell me your name," she said, not calling him the same awful way everyone was calling him since Oleg undressed him from his titles.

A cripple...

"I'm Ivar," he answered, not denying her the truth.

But instead of what he thought, she didn't make any questions.

Her eyes were too focused on the awful and inhuman angle of his leg to really hear the name he spoke so naturally.

"My lady Eir... Aren't you feeling this?" she kneeled beside him, looking at the broken leg.

It wasn't an exposed fracture, but surely his bone was terribly broken. Any man or woman or human being would be screaming in terrible pain with that wound and yet, he was there, calm and doing nothing but clench his teeth while moving to get himself sitting straight.

"I can't properly feel my legs," he explained. "And after all, ... I broke them all the time, every day... It's something I'm used to."

Used to...

Iliana sighed.

She couldn't understand how a man was completely still with a horribly broken bone, but she could understand his words about pain: after all these years being whipped, abused, cut, raped... All those pains were not something harsh for her anymore.

She leaned herself to touch his leg and so, Ivar flinched, looking at her and holding her hand once again in a quick movement that made Iliana ponder if he was just a simple cripple.

"Do not touch me," he sentenced, demanding.

But Iliana kept her position looking at him.

"If I can't touch you, then I can't help with your wound. And you may be used to this pain, but you don't seem to have any frostbite I can see. You may not deal with the pain, but sooner or later this wound will make you slower and then, my friend, you'll discover pain can always find a way to make you suffer again."

Ivar looked at her.

Somehow, that woman wasn't a common slave. She was wise... Her words weren't random, but he could feel the experience of someone who was speaking with the property of lived moments; experienced pain... She knew what she was talking about and so, he released her hand, observing as she slowly placed his leg in the correct position, gathering straight twigs from the dry and frozen trees around until she had enough to create a strong structure around his leg, ripping a piece of her skirt in strands she used to tie the wood to his leg creating something similar to his braces.

When she finished, his leg was properly immobilized and the wound wasn't aching that much anymore.

Maybe selling her would be a mistake after all: the woman knew good techniques that could probably help him to survive.

"Where are you going now?" Ivar asked, looking at her.

"I was indeed going to Kattegat, hoping I could sneak into some boat and leave this continent. But now... Now I have to think," she stopped, looking around. "Maybe Vestfold..."

Ivar scoffed and she looked at him, surprised by his reaction, but his words prevented Iliana from giving his scoff an angry answer.

"You'll find nothing but death in Vestfold now. They're under observation and soon will be under attack. The same bastards that did this to me now have their eyes turned towards their lands. Oleg won't stop until he has the whole Scandinavia under his feet and Harald might be whatever he wants, but that old drunken bastard won't be able to defend Vestfold all by himself."

Iliana didn't let pass his words.

"The same bastards who did this to you?" she looked at him.

A cripple, around his twenties, calling King Harald by names no peasant would dare to speak.

"What did you say was your name again?" she asked.

But Ivar just straightened his chest and back, looking at her with those imposing and fierce blues that weren't supposed to be in the face of a ragged man like him.

"I'm Ivar, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, woman," he spoke, imposing. "I'm Ivar the Boneless!"

Her body shivered on its base. Ivar the Boneless. The feared king of Kattegat... What was he doing muddy and dragging himself like a homeless man around his own town?

However, she didn't have to ask. Ivar's imposing position didn't last too much and he sighed, letting go of that ruthlessness and looking at her with defeat in his blues.

"I was betrayed by the woman I once called my queen. And overthrown by my enemies who threw me away from my homelands as if I was nothing but an outcast. Maybe we can help each other, Iliana, the slave," he said, looking right into her eyes. "You seem to know very well how to heal my wounds and you're a very beautiful woman, if I may say. I'm sure you can get us some good money..."

"I won't sell myself for your needs, Ivar, the fallen king!" she said, mocking him with the words as if he had mocked her with the title of slave.

But he scoffed again looking at her.

"Don't be stupid, woman," he said, sighing. "You don't need to lay with them for a few coins when I can kill them to have the whole bags they carry."

Ivar's words shocked Iliana not only by how naturally he was speaking of taking lives but also because somehow... They were making sense... If he was really the Boneless as he said, that would be a thought she would understand coming from his mind.

"You stop the next chariot for a ride and while the coachman is busy with his eyes inside your cleavage, I can get us a free horse and a warm chariot for you to travel. Since the hunters are looking for a woman alone and walking, they will have no reason to receive information about a lady in a chariot driven by a cripple..."

How many times did she think she could do it? Seduce a man, kill him for the gold in his pockets... She even tried it once and ended up being fucked for hours by a man who didn't pay her a dime for the amazing night of sex she offered him because of her inability to sink the dagger through his neck...

Ivar didn't seem like a man who would hesitate as she did...

"I don't have a single dime with me. Also, no weapon. And you don't seem to have anything with you as well..." she pointed.

But Ivar just touched her skirt, pulling the rest of the piece she tore to tie his leg, creating a new strand he wrapped around both of his hands, pulling it from both sides to test the tension of the cloth.

"It will serve..." he said, and Iliana's blood ran cold imagining his plans with that thing.

She would have to hear a man struggling for his oxygen that day.

But both of them would have a warm place to sleep that night...

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