#I’ve only just realised I’ve drawn all the limbs in the wrong place

[funky-little-equines]

Here, can you hold him a sec?

[whumpzone]

everyone wants to see col broken, but i want to see linden broken. maybe sick with a fever so bad he's totally out of it, maybe with a broken bone, maybe with the kind of panic attack that takes you out of reality and leaves you completely drained. i want to see how col scrambles to care for him with his still-unfamiliar hands, when linden isn't even in the headspace to praise or thank him.

yes!!! CW for general illness & mentions of pills/medicine

-

Linden woke- rather, he was pulled forcibly from sleep- to a pounding headache. He kept his eyes shut and furrowed his brow, realising slowly that his whole body hurt, not just his head. He was on his back- when he tried to roll into the foetal position, his muscles complained as if he’d hiked up a mountain yesterday.

“Mmph,” he grunted. The small noise irritated his throat enough to set off a coughing fit. He finally opened his bleary eyes. He was definitively ill. He groaned, grinding his head weakly into the pillow.

-

Pet didn’t see Master all morning. The sun was in the middle of the sky, casting only slim shadows, when he gathered his courage and went to check on him. Every step felt like a mistake. He was disturbing him, he was attention seeking, Master was probably busy, he was doing something that didn’t concern the stupid little animal he kept around, and Pet was going to get ordered away at best and punished at worst.

Still, he gently knocked on Master’s bedroom door. The action hurt his knuckles. “Col,” he heard, just barely, from inside. “Come in, please.”

Master’s voice didn’t sound right. He didn’t look right, either, when Pet pushed open the door. He was still in bed, his long hair stuck to his face with sweat. His dark skin looked flushed-out and pallid, and his eyes were half-lidded. Two pupils slowly met his own.

Oh, god. Master was dying.

Pet rushed and collapsed to his knees at Master’s bedside, his mind racing to find a solution. He wanted to cry out, ask what is it, where does it hurt, what do I need to do?

But he couldn’t. He could only stare stupidly, his mouth parted with worry, eyes big and searching. Master saw his panic and slowly spoke. It looked like the words were painful.

“I’m okay, I’ve just-“ he coughed, turning his face away. “I think I’ve got the flu. It’s fine, it’s-“ another few seconds of coughing. “Okay, I’m quite badly ill.”

He half-groaned, half-laughed. Pet’s heart was still thumping out of his chest, but he made himself nod. Master pressed his face into the pillow, a pained look on his face. His eyebrows were drawn close, heavy over his eyes, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Pet stared, waiting, but Master didn’t speak anymore. He was tense, like he was trying to stave off an invisible pain.

A car rumbled past outside. Had… had Master fallen asleep? Pet wouldn’t dare touch him without permission, so instead he got up and looked down. It felt so wrong. Pet should be the one laid out, sweaty and barely conscious.

He had to help. What did Master need? Paracetamol? He knew that word, from somewhere. Had Master given him some, when he burnt his own hand? He went to the bathroom and retrieved the packet. Water. Pet would get him water, too. He’d be a good, useful dog.

Pet’s mind wandered as he completed the task. So often his thoughts were preoccupied with what Master could do, what he was capable of, all the ways he could hurt Pet in that moment. Constantly vigilant of any attack. Would he kick him? Whatever was in reach, would he smash it against his head? Would he reach out and slap him?

But right now, Master really couldn’t do anything. He was weak, he was tired. He could barely open his eyes- would he notice, say, if Pet failed to kneel quickly enough? If he didn’t cast his eyes down, or if he was slow? He wouldn’t do any of that, of course. Pet knew he shouldn’t be thinking this way, but he also knew he wasn’t considering anything disloyal. Just because Master was incapacitated didn’t mean Pet would let his own training slip, or- god forbid- try to hurt Master or slow his recovery. Never. It was just… an interesting thought, the fact that Pet wasn’t at risk of harm right now.

He also thought about how seeing Master this way, pained and exhausted, evoked a strange feeling he hadn’t felt for his old owner, even as he died. All Pet could feel back then was hopelessness, and fear. He had felt like a balloon cut loose and left to fly, unguided, into the abyss. Here, he could tell that the drive to help Master feel better was motivated by more than his obligation to serve, more than his fear of his owner dying. Seeing Master so reduced had created a strange sadness in Pet. He didn’t like it.

-

Master didn’t look much better when Pet returned, a glass of water in one hand and the pills in the other. He knew it was disgusting, to give his owner pills that had been handled by an animal, but he didn’t know how else to give them to him. He wasn’t sure Master would be able to open the packet by himself.

He was curled up, his face still taut, and breathing far too shallowly. It made Pet’s heart seize up. This was wrong wrong wrong.

Kneeling, he put the glass down and tried to gently wake Master. He knew he would get in trouble for touching his owner, for daring to disturb him, but he had to help. Master opened one eye and Pet proffered the glass.

It took both of Master’s hands gripping it, with Pet supporting the base of the glass, for him to drink enough to swallow the pills. Once he was done he immediately slumped back into bed with a groan, and shut his eyes.

-

By the third day, Master was improving a lot. But, naturally, he didn’t have any time for his Pet. He understood, he really did. Master had to focus on recovering and look after himself.

Still…

He was getting really hungry. He had no way of asking, and duh, it kept him dependent on his owner’s mercy, as he should be. But he worried that if Master didn’t grant him the privilege soon, he would be useless at helping fetch pills, water, warm blankets, anything. He was already starting to wobble a lot more as he walked. Once he thought he would actually fall onto his owner.

Pet tried to push the hunger away. He had to focus, this was important! He had to be perfect. He could hear Master’s voice in his head, once he was back to full health.

You just let me suffer in that bedroom, you fucking mongrel. No help, no care, I don’t know why I ever kept you in the first place. You can get out and never come back, you hear me?

So he ignored the void in his stomach. Tried to compensate for the way his limbs ached. If this was a test, he was going to pass. He had to.

-

tagging: @newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whumps @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

[wallwriterstuff]

Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future. 

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK. 

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/ 

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post. 

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions?  Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On 

Part 3: These Violent Delights 

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.  

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?  

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

[hedwigstalons]

SpaceBears - Taking The Plunge

These two have taken up residence in my head and made themselves comfortable.  Far too comfortable.  

This story takes place the day after ‘In the Beginning’ (here) but I think I’ve managed to write it so it still makes sense without reading the original.  It probably helps to know that it takes place the day after Alan and Brandon hook up.

This instalment sticks to a T rating and that’s only really for some language from Gordon *rolls eyes at the aquanaut and his sailor talk*

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can do so here

Thank you to @willow-salix who checked my ramblings despite her own punishing upload schedule - go check out her stuff, she has put out some amazing chapters this week.

xoxoxox

Alan woke to find a heavy arm flung over him and warmth pressed against his back, gentle breaths tickling his neck.  This wasn’t a completely unheard of experience if either he or a brother had dealt with a particularly traumatic rescue; sometimes being the baby of the family had its advantages and he wasn’t too proud to seek out familial comfort to dispel the nightmares.  The difference this time was that neither the room he was in, nor the arm across him, belonged to a brother.  Memories of the day before penetrated through the heavy fog of morning and brought with it understanding.  

Brandon.  The Expo.  The kiss.  Many kisses.  And now here they were, curled up together after falling asleep in front of a movie.

The man behind him was evidently already awake and his stirrings had alerted him to his return to consciousness.  

“Morning rocket boy.  Any chance I can get my other arm back?”

The limb draped across him was removed and Alan rolled away, allowing him to both free the arm underneath him and to face his bed companion who was now flexing his fingers painfully as the blood flowed back.

“Sorry, you should have woken me,” he apologised with concern in his eyes.

“Nah, I figured you guys have to catch sleep when you can.  I’ll live.”  Alan was treated to a soft grin as Brandon massaged life back into his arm.  

Finally satisfied that he had escaped pins and needles Brandon shuffled closer to close the gap between them.  He reached out and rested one hand on Alan’s exposed waist where his t-shirt had rucked up and propped  himself up on the other elbow.

Alan felt a warm glow spread through him at the touch and he returned the smile.  Brandon’s hair, messy from sleep, was sticking out at all angles in untidy curls and Alan gently brushed back a stray lock that threatened to fall into Brandon’s eyes.  Yesterday morning this moment would have been unthinkable, the thought of touching Brandon in this way confined to his secret dreams.  To find out the feeling was mutual had been a surprising, yet welcome, revelation.

“Guess we’re giving this a go, huh?”

“Guess so.”  Brandon tilted his head and lowered it, pulling Alan towards him as he kissed his sleepyhead...boyfriend?  He guessed that was the right term now.   It certainly felt right.  Yesterday still felt a bit unreal but here he was, in Alan’s bed, actually getting to kiss the blonde who had been increasingly in his thoughts.  

“I’m sorry about my brothers last night,” Alan muttered sheepishly once Brandon’s warm lips left his, “they can be a bit full on.”  

“S’only ‘cos they care about you.”  

There was something in Brandon’s eyes that Alan couldn’t quite name.  Envy?  Longing?  He wasn’t too sure but the bleeping of his comm put paid to further musings.  He groaned and rolled reluctantly away, sitting up to pick up the device that he knew wouldn’t go quiet until he answered it.

“What’s up, Gords?” he answered wearily as the grinning visage of his brother smirked at him in holographic form.

“Getting a little distracted there?”  The waggling eyebrows left no illusions as to what Gordon could be referring to.

“Look, is this important or did you just drop in to check up on me?” he snapped.  The last thing he needed was yet another brother butting in on his life, it had been bad enough having to listen to Scott and Virgil spell out the rules for his new relationship.

“Hey, relax.  Just reminding you that you’re meant to log your mile time in the pool this morning.  I know Brandon isn’t due to leave yet but you’re back on duty and Scott is still storming round like a thundercloud.  Best not give him anything else to grump over.”

“Sorry, guess I’m just still a bit on edge.”

“Scott and Virg give you a hard time last night?” there was a softening of attitude from Gordon; he knew exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of a lecture and it was rarely a fun experience.

“Something like that.  Look, gimme 5 minutes and I’ll be there.”

“FAB,” Gordon cut the comm connection and winked out of existence.

Alan turned back to Brandon and found himself apologising yet again.  “Sorry, I only got yesterday off.  I wasn’t really anticipating any of this happening,” he gestured at the rumpled sheets, “or I’d have tried to get more time.  It won’t take me long to do my swim but Gordon’s right, I need to get out there, the last thing I need is another lecture.  Hey, you should come swim too.”

“Uh, I didn’t bring any stuff.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll just comm Gordon and you can borrow some of his, he won’t mind and it’ll feel better than a shower.”

Brandon was definitely feeling in need of something to freshen up, while he and Alan had made it under the covers at some point during the night they were both still in their clothes from the day before.  He really wasn’t keen on the idea of hitting the pool but before he could protest Alan had already called up Gordon and made arrangements for him to borrow something suitable.

Now that he had a deadline Alan was a bundle of energy.  It surprised Brandon just how quickly Alan could go from sleepy and smudgy eyed to alert and bouncing but he guessed years of answering  emergency calls at all times of the day and night had trained the astronaut to immediate wakefulness when required.  In just a few short minutes Alan was ready, clad in swim shorts with a towel slung round his neck, leaving Brandon no option but to follow him to Gordon’s room.  

They knocked and a cheery voice bade them come in.  Gordon had beaten them to it and was already rummaging through his closet for something for Brandon to wear, the two of them were of a similar size and Brandon had no doubt the proffered board shorts would fit.  He supposed he had to be grateful that Gordon hadn’t tried to kit him out in some of the many tiny speedos he knew the aquanaut owned but he still took the shorts only reluctantly.  He sighed and headed off to his guest room to get changed and grab a towel.  

xoxoxox

Once they were alone Gordon rounded on Alan, smirking.

“So, you and Brandon.  How long have you been hiding this from us all?  You do realise you’re probably the only one of us seeing any action at the moment.”

“I haven’t been hiding anything.  Until yesterday I didn’t even know he liked me like that.”  Alan could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.  He should have known he wouldn’t have been able to escape a grilling from Gordon and being alone in the aquanaut’s room left him wide open.  He was sorely tempted to just leave and head to the pool but knew he’d only get the suggestive remarks in a more public space.  And anyway, Gordon had managed to place himself in the way of the door, cutting off his escape route.

“And you’ve already got Scott having kittens over it, I swear he thinks you’re still twelve sometimes.  Only yesterday, huh?  I know Brandon didn’t go back to the guest room last night; quick work there, Al.  Maybe Scott is right to worry about you after all, you dark horse.”  The smirk was joined by more wiggling eyebrows, eliciting a groan from Alan.

“Nothing happened, alright.”  Now he was seriously blushing.  At least Gordon wasn’t treating him like some kid to be wrapped in cotton wool, if anything he was overestimating things.    “Scott caught us making out, that’s all.  And later we just watched some movies.”

“If you say so.”  There was a shrug that suggested Gordon wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I do say so.”

Alan threw himself back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.  This was all so new to him but evidently his brothers had convinced themselves that he and Brandon were already screwing around.  In reality though he was pretty apprehensive about the whole idea.  He took a deep breath, hoping Gordon wouldn’t laugh at him.

“Um, so what’s it like?  You know...with a guy?”

Gordon was caught off guard, the nervous quaver to the voice showed just how much this was eating away at Alan, while the question itself made him realise Alan had been serious that nothing had happened the night before.  Theirs was a fairly open household so he was surprised at Alan’s hesitance to ask, but, on reflection, he probably would have been nervous too if he’d gone to an older brother for advice.  Sensing this wasn’t a time for jokes and teasing he sat down near Alan’s feet. 

“Aw, man.”  The responsibility weighed heavy on Gordon and he brushed his fingers back through his hair, wondering where to begin.  If he’d bothered to think about it he would have assumed Aan would have gone to one of the other brothers, any of the other brothers, except him.  But then he realised a lot of his preconceptions had been wrong. 

 He’d always pegged Alan as a junior hybrid of John and Scott and with that came the false assumption that his little brother would eventually be seeking advice about girls, not that he was inexperienced there either, mind you.  But Brandon?  Brandon had been a surprise.  He took a deep breath.

“Well, for a start don’t believe everything you see on the internet.  You don’t need to go copying that shit; some of it’s okay for a bit of casual viewing but it’s not how you want to build a relationship.”

Alan sat up with a jolt, wrapping his arms around drawn up knees and staring at Gordon with wide eyed horror.  “You do know John monitors our internet use, don’t you?”

Gordon rolled his eyes indulgently.  “The Eye-In-The-Sky isn’t going to have a watchalong with you if that’s what you’re worried about, and judging from the fact we are even having this conversation about guys says to me your tastes run a little differently to his.  Unless you start looking at something illegal he’s not going to go telling Scott what you choose to jack off to.”

Alan was severely regretting entering into this conversation.  He knew they were all adults but he didn’t really want to be contemplating his brothers’ downtime viewing habits, the whole idea made him a little nauseous.  Sure there had been a little self-exploration but the fantasies had been firmly within his head with his web based activities restricted to the gaming world.  “So, no copying porn.  Got it,” he squeaked.  “Any other pearls of wisdom?” 

“Relax, Alan,” he could tell his brother was getting seriously worked up over the whole affair,  “you’re eighteen, no one is expecting you to be experienced at this stuff and there’s no rush either.  I think Virgil was at least 20 before he started dating seriously.”

“Yeah, well that’s Virgil.  I was asking you.”

“Uh, I’m probably not the greatest example to follow.”  Alan shot him a curious look and Gordon sighed.  “Swim squad wasn’t always the healthiest of places to be, there was a lot of peer pressure and trying to fit in.  I did some things I’m not proud of and as first experiences went, it sucked.  If Brandon’s a decent guy he’ll be happy to wait.”  The memories of changing room fumbles, post-competition hedonism and squad initiations returned in a flood, some good, some bad.  “Hang on, has he been trying to get you to do stuff you don’t want?”  

Gordon’s eyes blazed and Alan was suddenly reminded that, while he may not be as smothering as Scott, Gordon was still a very protective older brother.

“Jeez, Gords no, no he hasn’t,” he placated.  “Brandon’s been fine about it.  I know his reputation in the media is a little...colourful, but he hasn’t been like that with me at all.”

“Good.”  The menacing flare subsided.  “Look, Al, there’s really no need to rush into things.  I’m guessing Virg gave you the ground rules,” he waited until Alan nodded. “Well, listen to your body and listen to each other and it’ll be fine.  And as for what it’s like, well, when it’s good it can be fantastic but that’s no reason to leap in before you’re ready and there might be  some things you never want to try.  There’s more to a good relationship than just bouncing about in the bedroom y’know.  If Brandon’s one of the decent ones he’ll respect that and if he’s not, well, you deserve better.  But it goes both ways too and we all know better than to believe everything we see in the media; just because Brandon’s more experienced than you doesn’t mean he’s going to be up for everything either.”  

Alan nodded.  Gordon spoke a lot of sense and while he was still a bit worried about making a fool of himself he felt a lot more confident than before.  So what if he was a little naive about these things, he and Brandon were friends first and he certainly hadn’t felt pressured last night.

His mind wandered back to the previous night.  Brandon’s tongue warm in his mouth, teasing, exploring, hands tangled in hair, their bodies pressed close.  Then after dinner things had taken a gentler turn, both of them worn out from their long day at the Expo and the emotional rollercoaster they had been on.  A dreamy half-smile played on his lips and his eyes glazed slightly.

“Uh, Earth to Alan?”

“Huh?”

“C’mon lover boy, save the daydreams for later.  Best get you into that pool or Scott will be hunting us both down.”

Xoxoxox

By the time Brandon made it down to the communal areas of the villa Alan was already several laps into his mile.  Gordon was sitting at a picnic table, stopwatch in hand, keeping track of the numbers.  The great glass doors at the front of the kitchen had been opened wide, inviting him out into the sunshine, but he hovered on the threshold, reluctant to step out into the tropical sun and feeling very exposed in his borrowed shorts.

“Hey, Brandon,” Gordon called out when he spotted him, “ol’ slowcoach is going to be at least another fifteen minutes.  Feel free to raid the fridge.”

Brandon retreated into the kitchen, rolling his eyes slightly at the “and grab me some apple juice while you’re there” that was shouted at his departing back but feeling grateful that Gordon didn’t seem to be treating him any differently to usual.  

He was quite grateful the oldest two siblings were nowhere in sight although the sound of the piano drifting down the stairs from above suggested that at least Virgil was in the lounge.  He hoped he stayed up there.  He knew the brothers only had Alan’s best interests at heart but he hadn’t liked being in the spotlight; it was one thing to be the centre of attention on his vlog but quite another to be under the steely gaze of the commander of International Rescue and his equally intimidating second.  He took his time pouring out two glasses of chilled juice and carried them out onto the patio, settling himself on the bench next to the aquanaut.

“How come he’s got to do this swim, I thought you were the one who did the water stuff?” Brandon asked as he watched Alan reach the far end of the pool, do a quick tumble turn then start cleaving through the water back towards them.  Despite Gordon’s criticism the pace looked far from slow to him.

“We’ve all gotta be able to cover for each other and a fat lot of good we would be if we couldn’t swim well.  I make ‘em all do a timed mile once a month to check they’re staying in shape.”  

“Doesn't Scott set the training?”  

“Some of it, but he trusts us to know our own areas best.  Two laps left!”  This last remark was shouted out to Alan who had just reached their end of the pool again.

Gordon picked up the stopwatch and made his way to the edge of the deck ready to record the moment Alan touched the wall for the final time.  Brandon drained his juice and followed, he didn’t have a clue what constituted a good time but he was still keen to see how Alan had done.  The pair stood looking out over the water as Alan tried to put on a burst of speed to the finish.  

“How’d I do?” the voice that floated up from beneath them sounded faintly out of breath.  

“47 seconds slower than last month but you’re still coming in quicker than Virgil.”

A snort.  “Well that’s not hard, he’s not exactly streamlined.  And don’t you dare tell him I said that!”

“Yeah, well, now you’re done - special delivery!”

The last two words, shouted out in his ear without warning, were accompanied by a firm shove to the back.  Utterly unprepared for the two hands that forced him forwards, Brandon found himself falling, the six foot drop over in an instant as he slammed painfully into the water below, the impact knocking the breath out of him.  

Coolness closed over his head as momentum carried him downwards, shutting off his access to life-giving air.  Water filled his nose and mouth, the chlorine taste and tang harsh in his throat.  The bottom of the pool was too far down for him to put his feet down, there was nothing to brace himself against; he was out of his depth and out of air.  Panic set in and he tried to climb back towards the surface, clawing towards the light above him.

Alan watched with a grin as the figure sailed over his head.  He and his brothers all knew it was a risk to stand near Gordon by the pool but it was a lesson Brandon was yet to learn.  He wondered whether Brandon would laugh or curse over his sudden dunking.  The figure hit the water with all the grace of a cinder block and Alan winced, knowing that such a bad landing was bound to sting.  

The water churned as Brandon’s hands and head broke the surface but only for a moment before his rigidly upright body slid back down into the depths. Another bob up, another slide down; each time the ginger head barely broke the surface.  It wasn’t often that Alan dealt with drowning, the water was more Gordon’s domain, but he knew the signs and his rescuer’s instinct and training kicked in.

“Gordon!” he cried out, hoping his brother was still on the deck above to lend a hand, before pushing powerfully off the pool wall towards his floundering boyfriend.

Gordon, who had already started heading back inside, stopped and turned at the shout.  That wasn’t the sound of a brother in jest; instead the tone was pure mission and his body jolted on automatic response.  The sight that greeted him had him running for the steps that led to the lower pool edge.  Alan had already grabbed Brandon and was attempting to tow him to one side of the pool, a maneuver that was significantly hampered by the panicked thrashing of the figure that Gordon instantly re-categorised as a casualty in need of rescue.

Knowing he would be of more use on the poolside to help lift Brandon out Gordon could only watch as Alan tried to calm the flailing man.  It didn’t seem to be working; Brandon was still exhibiting pure, terrified panic and was clawing at the arms that held him firmly.  At last the pair reached the poolside and Gordon took hold of Brandon, hauling him up onto the deck.  

The change from water to stone as he was bodily dragged over the hard lip of the pool stilled Brandon’s desperate movements, the transition breaking through the panic as something deep inside his fogged consciousness told him he was finally safe.  He lay on his side on the warm flagstones, his body slightly curled in on itself, feeling the sun on his skin.  His throat burned and his breathing was ragged.  A wet cough and his body emptied itself of pool water and apple juice in an action that did the burning sensation no favours but did at least make the breathing earlier.  Only then did he take in the set of knees in front of him, now resting in a puddle of his evacuated stomach contents, and the soothing hand rubbing circles on his upper arm.  Alan.  

Brandon was vaguely aware of the commotion going on around him, shouted commands, running footsteps.  He didn't care.  He had light and warmth and air.  

The bare knees in front of him were exchanged for a pair clad in thick denim.  Another cough and he added bile to the puddle that was already wicking its way up the material as the jeans did their best to absorb the mess.  He probably ought to feel guilty, throwing up over two brothers.

"Brandon?  You got any more left in there buddy?"

As if prompted by the question another retch spasmed through his body but nothing came up.  Brandon flicked his eyes up to meet Virgil's warm brown ones that held nothing but concern and he shook his head weakly.  He became vaguely aware of the bleeping of a med scanner that had appeared from somewhere.

"Scan's clear.  Nothing reached his lungs and heart rate and respiration are returning to normal." This was directed at someone behind Brandon.  "Up you get but take it slow now."  A plaid clad arm was held out but Brandon ignored it, preferring to sit up under his own steam.

"Brandon?"  Alan was back in front of him, placing a steadying hand on shoulders that trembled slightly.

It hurt Brandon to see the worry etched across Alan’s features, worry that was only there because of his own inadequacies.  He dropped his head, unable to meet those clear blue eyes any longer.  The shame burned worse than the chlorine.  

“Alan, go take Brandon to get warmed up.  He’s had a shock so no leaving him alone.  He’ll need to take it easy.  Shouldn’t have to worry about secondary drowning but you know the signs.”  

Alan nodded, more than happy to comply with Virgil’s instruction.  The calm tenderness with which it was delivered gave implicit permission to leave the maintenance tasks that were due his attention.  His original plan had been to take Brandon up with him to Three’s cockpit while he replaced the air filters.  Okay, his real original plan had been to hook Brandon up to a computer somewhere while he worked through his jobs list but that was before yesterday happened.  Brandon, still dazed, was in no fit state to be in his rocket and Alan was grateful to Virgil for picking up on his need to stay close to the redhead who was shivering on the flagstones.

Alan led Brandon towards the villa, one arm protectively around the back of his waist.  Virgil watched them go, lips quirking slightly at the closeness of the pair as they padded back inside.  He knew he would need to square it with Scott about why Alan wasn’t doing his chores but he’d rather do that than try and separate the couple right now.  

Once Alan and Brandon reached the kitchen and disappeared out of sight he turned to Gordon.  The softness had gone to be replaced by the operative who demanded answers over the unexpected situation he had been called to, summoned with the demand for a med-scan.

“So, are you going to tell me what the hell just happened there?”

Xoxoxox

Scott eventually tracked the pair down in the den.  Alan and Brandon were sharing a couch, Brandon’s head nestled on his brother’s chest, his feet up to the side on the seat.  As he entered Scott felt twin sets of eyes turn towards him, the murmuring voices falling silent and he got the distinct feeling he had intruded on a private moment.  Apprehension graced Brandon’s features but Alan’s face hardened in defiance and Scott didn’t miss how the arm around Brandon tensed, holding him firmly and protectively in place.  A declaration.

It pained Scott to see their reactions, Alan was clearly preparing for battle, but he probably deserved it; he certainly hadn’t shown much enthusiasm for his brother’s change in relationship status.  He didn’t want a battle. 

 He crossed the room and perched on the low table in front of the couch, hitting the controls on the projector and pausing the movie that the pair were no longer paying attention to.

 “Brandon, Virgil and Gordon filled me in.  Are you okay?"  The concern in his voice was real and he felt the tension in the room drop a little in response.

A nod.

"Good, you gave Gordon a bit of a scare back there."

Alan snorted.  "He's not the one who nearly drowned."  The scared one had been Brandon and it was only his desire to stay close to his boyfriend that was stopping him from going and tearing a strip off Gordon.  It had taken a lot of coaxing to tease out a hesitant confession from Brandon that he'd never learned to swim.  The downcast eyes and mutterings about never having the opportunity left Alan with the distinct impression that there was a lot about his past that Brandon was leaving out.

Seeing the pair nestled so close, Scott wasn't too proud to admit that he owed them an apology.  His attitude towards them had been frosty to say the least and he needed his brother to know he was fine with everything.

"Look, I'm sorry about last night, meeting with the Board always puts me in a bad mood.  Then you guys, well, it caught me off guard.  I took my frustrations out on the pair of you and I shouldn't have."

Whatever Alan had been expecting it wasn't this.

"You're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you.  If you and Brandon are happy together then I'm happy."

"Really?" There was still worry in Alan's voice and Scott realised just how much his earlier reaction had had an impact. 

"Really.  I honestly have no problem with it,  you two are both adults and can make your own choices.  I'm not going to get in your way if you have feelings for each other."

"Thanks."  The arm around Brandon loosened slightly, the embrace becoming softer and more tender as the fear of a dressing down drifted away.

"I do have another rule though." Two sets of eyes widened with apprehension.  "I'm guessing we are going to be seeing you here  more often, Brandon, it's only natural that you two are going to want to spend time together.  But we live on an island and we have a pool right outside the door, I'd feel a lot happier if I knew you were a confident swimmer.  Gordon's agreed to teach you."

The fear radiating off Brandon was palpable and Scott couldn't really blame him, just a few hours ago that same aquanaut had thrown him into the pool and left him fearing for his life.

"Do I have to?"

Expecting resistance from Alan, Scott was surprised when his youngest brother piped up in support of the idea.

"S'okay, I'll be there too."  He turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Brandon's head.  "Scott's right though, it's an important skill.  Gordon won't throw you in again, I promise.  He's actually a really good teacher."

Brandon sat up, looking first at Scott who was calm but clearly viewed this as non-negotiable, then at Alan who gave him an encouraging smile.  He really didn't want to, he'd successfully managed to keep away from the pool so far, water just filled him with dread and today had only compounded that feeling, but he could see it made sense.  It probably helped that none of them were putting him down over his lack of swimming ability.  The Bear couldn't be seen to be taking swimming lessons but perhaps Brandon, in the privacy of a secluded island, could.  He could see it would mean a lot to Alan and even if he didn't want to do it for himself he was prepared to do it for him.

"Okay, I'll try."

"Great.  I don't think we'll do anything today, for a start Gordon's currently sorting Three's air filters," Alan realised Gordon must have already been on the receiving end of a sharp reprimand if he was currently working through his chores, "but next visit we'll make a start.  Anyway," Scott stood up, "I'll leave you to it.  Alan, make sure you keep a close eye on your patient." 

There was a definite smirk as Scott left the room but Alan didn't care, if there was teasing to come later on then he would deal with it.  For now, barring any rescues that got called in, he had permission to stay with Brandon and was intending to make the most of it.  Brandon didn't miss the hint either and by the time Scott turned to close the door the two figures on the couch were nestled back together, the movie left abandoned and ignored.

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course Chapter 16) Abomination of Men

.-.-.

Like a quiet lonesome observer, Ivar watched Piglet get throughout the days. She was troubled, on edge and obviously scared of something. But Ivar hadn’t been able to place his finger on the source of Piglet's great discomfort. It bothered him to be left in the dark while some unknown force was wearing his only companion down. In the course of a few days, her dark eyes turned vacant and lost their usual soft glimmer of optimism. Ever since their rough start, Piglet had always worn her burdens with a tilted up chin and shoulders back. She simply endured her poor course of life and was able to treasure all bright moments.

Ivar had envied her for that, but now that her overall brightness started to fade away, he missed the way she’d smile vividly at the scrawny lamb who succeeded to skittle after her throughout the courtyard. All of her happiness diluted along with her spirit. 

The distance between them grew and it got on Ivar's nerves because he had no say in it, she simply seemed to hide and slowly fade away. She had grown a habit of nail biting, which showed mostly during their usual game-time in between dusk and darkness. She was there but at the same time not; fighting inner battles and fears all on her own.

As for today, she’d been slumped against the wall, cracking eggs and mixing them with herbs, onions and spices without uttering a word. His few attempts to start a conversation had been fruitless, so he gave up and let her do her job as he did his. The rest of the day passed dreadfully slow and the evening promised another boring pass of time. 

“Wahid, arbe, sitta?” Ivar questioned a few times but received no response from around the corner. So he swiped a few handfuls of hay together, turned on his side in an attempt to sleep.

Ivar woke up abruptly and he didn’t know why. His eyes flashed open and his limbs flexed in shock. With his senses still dull from sleep, he tried to categorize the danger lurking in the dancing shadows of the semi-dark shed. A candle was lit, the animals sounded nervous, indicating that the danger was close. The stench of cold-sweat and fear hung in the air. And there was something else, someone else.

Ivar’s breath caught in his throat and his heart started pounding when he heard Piglet’s muffled cries and a raw voice breaking. 

Adrenaline poured itself into his veins and in a state of utter alertness, Ivar dragged himself to the wooden wall that separated him from the assault. Through the cracks, a scene played out: Piglet struggled against her attacker, shooting her right leg out. But her movements were far too slow and instead helped the attacker rather than hinder. Her legs were kicked apart and hands moved from her waist to her arms, trapping them above her head. Roughly, Piglet was shoved down.

Ivar’s eyes were glued on jewel encrusted ringed fingers. They crept their way to Piglets bosom, squeezing roughly. In an instant, Piglet grew still and her dark eyes widened as far as they could. 

Ivar could not tell how much time passed between Piglet’s eyes changing from shock, to disgust, to utter revulsion. During that moment, Ivar found himself frozen solid. Unable to move, to shout or even breath. As he watched his only companion being wronged in such an inhumane way, he realised the true extent of his powerlessness. 

The assault abruptly stopped and Piglet’s attacker jerked away from her, his croaky voice shouting in disgust. Piglet received a fist in her face, which was so low down and dirty, due to her arms being pinned above her head, she had no way of blocking it. 

Her attacker let go of her completely and quickly stood back on his two feet. Ivar managed to break his spell and crawled towards the end of his box in order to catch a glimpse of the coward. 

Before the bastard had the chance to flee, their eyes locked and enlarged; one in surprise, the other in a complete and utter state of loathing. 

In front of Ivar stood a young man. Although his overall appearance screamed wealth and fortune, his physical features were meager and plain. The only notable feature was the man’s harelip; the small cleft did not allow him to close his mouth properly. 

Ivar’s physical appearance made his opponent’s mouth drop entirely and a gleam of sweat ran down from under the man’s brown fringe. Their eyes never blinked nor looked away, it was a contest of some sorts and Ivar was dead-set on winning. 

Inwardly, he roared when the bastard drew his gaze down and scoffed, trying to save his dignity by ridiculing Ivar. 

Ivar glared at him and now that he was the victor, he looked the bastard over from head to toe and eventually stopped at the young man’s crotch, which was noticeably piss stained. 

‘She pissed on him,’ Ivar realised as gratification morphed his lips into a sly grin. 

When the young man noticed Ivar’s focus, he drew out a handkerchief and frantically rubbed the stains, an ineffective venture. 

“Oh, did that little savage make a fool out of you,” Ivar sneered and tksed, motioning him to come closer and cross Piglet’s makeshift line, “why don’t you prove yourself to be a man and fight one.” 

Ivar crawled up as close as his shackles allowed him and pushed himself up on his knuckles.

  “Congratulations, you will be my main target, once I’ve murdered the Giant.” 

Ivar surprised himself by the way he was able to keep all his anger and loathing inside his chest and transpire it into his gaze. He must be wearing a hellish mask, because even though the young man did not understand his word, he gulped thickly and took a few steps back, which meant increasing his distance from Piglet. 

“Good, keep walking you pathetic human being,” Ivar whispered as his eyes fixated on the young man’s back. 

The royal bastard left their shed and locked their door. Which meant he had keys and was able to come in and out whenever he pleased. 

The reason for Piglet's dread left the pair of them in a suffocating silence. Ivar quietly retreated to the wooden wall that separated them. Cautiously, he glanced through the cracks and noticed how Piglet had drawn her knees up to her chest and hid her face in between them. 

Ivar swallowed dryly and rubbed the back of his head, at a loss for words, he tried to summon up anything that would make Piglet’s current situation more endurable. After a few attempts to open his mouth and speak up, he realised there wasn’t enough comfort in the world to ease Piglet’s pain. It left a bitter taste inside his mouth and it struck him what Piglet’s reasons were for keeping up her poor personal hygiene. She clung to that wall of stench and filth in order to keep everyone at a safe distance. 

It was her weeping that made him feel guilty on behalf of all men. Her sounds were heart wrenching and raw. As her tears came in waves, moments of sobbing broken apart by short pauses to recover her breath, before spiraling back into that dreadful sound of losing hope. 

It was enough to make Ivar drop his head and press his palms against his ears. He didn’t want to be present during her breakdown, but he had no choice in the matter. Just like Piglet had no choice but to pick herself up in the morning, get back to work and if needed, turn the other cheek. 

Because she was a nothing, they both were nothings. They were not allowed to have feelings, nor thoughts, nor emotions. Those were privileges for the rich, for the free. Not for property, not for things. 

It took until early morning for Piglet’s sobs to evolve into chants for her God. Ivar hadn’t been able to move or sleep. His thoughts had been too occupied while he’d tried to drown out all of Piglet’s sounds. He too had prayed to his Gods, to give him a proper chance to slaughter the young man that harmed Piglet. That was all he needed, one moment in the shadows; to kill that bastard without getting caught. Because that would earn him a punishment worse than death; crucifixion, burned alive. Or being hoisted on the wheel, until the Giant broke every bone in his body. Oh yes, those Christians cursed the heathens for being soulless, but when it came to torture they were rather creative themselves. 

In all honesty, Ivar could live with that thought; of being tortured to death, as long as it was an eye for an eye. Avenging Piglet by destroying a Christian would earn him a place at the table in Valhalla. 

But it seemed wrong for Piglet to suffer the same punishment. Whether he liked it or not, their fates had intertwined from the moment he woke up in the shed. And that must mean something. Ivar could only hope that all of their suffering was for a greater good, a better purpose than to be exploited by the Christians. And so he prayed to Odin, the All-Father for strength and willpower, to endure just a little bit longer until the perfect opportunity would reveal itself. So he’d be able to burn this entire place down, with every last master burning within it.

.-.-.

The next morning, Piglet wasn’t able to meet his eyes. Although she had nothing to be ashamed of, she did her absolute best to avoid him. Without a word, she fled the shed with the cattle and didn’t meet with Ivar until late in the afternoon, where both were forced to work in the kitchen. 

Ivar remained silent too, observing how Piglet just sat next to him. Her features dominated by a profound form of sadness, fatigue engraved in her worn down face. Her hands trembled but managed to work their way through countless potatoes and onions. 

Once back at the shed, she brought him fresh water and a dish that involved actual meat. But Ivar didn’t manage to get a bite down his throat and placed the bowl away, heading towards his trough in order to freshen up. 

Ivar was scrubbing the filth from his upper legs and lower waist when something cluttered onto the floor. Craning his neck over his shoulder, he was just in time to notice how Piglet’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her body collapsed onto the floor, next to the full bowl she’d dropped. 

Her limbs started to spasm and soon her entire body was convulsing. Her hands twitched over the makeshift line and Ivar sprung into action.

He drew her into his box and vividly remembered how the Giant smacked her until she came back to her senses. But it seemed cruel to hit an unconscious woman, especially one that still wore the bruise of a golden ring on her cheek from the previous night. Instead of beating the seizure out of her, Ivar frantically shook her shoulders and tried to keep her arms and legs from hitting the wooden panels. 

Slowly, the whites of her eyes shifted back and she blinked a few times. With a vacant stare, she tried to catch up with her whereabouts; down onto the floor, on the other side of the line, with Ivar naked, towering over her. 

Betrayal manifested after the third blink and with feeble fists, she hit his bare chest. Ivar wasn’t aware of her presumptions until she started crying again and snapped her teeth at him. 

“No, Piglet I’m not-” but before he could finish his sentence, she managed to sink her teeth into his lower arm and bit through. 

Ivar skillfully smothered the reflex to slap her, yet grabbed her neck in an attempt to stop her from biting him. But Piglet was now a dog with a bone, quite literally and would not stop her teeth from sinking deeper into Ivar’s skin, to the point of drawing blood. 

“Piglet stop!” Ivar growled at her as the stinging sensation turned to a burning row of shards penetrating his flesh. 

“Maksura,” he shouted in defeat, allowing his most embarrassing default to be on display. He’d heard her use that word before, she’d been speaking about his broken legs. 

“Maksura, damn it Piglet, my prick doesn’t work, stop biting me!” he confessed pointing at his worthless member.

His words had some effect on Piglet, at least enough to make her stop biting a chunk out of his arm. Her jaw relaxed, Ivar let go of her neck and she quickly shuffled backwards until she sat on the safe side of the line.

“Maksura?” She questioned breathless, gesturing to Ivar’s crotch. 

A part of him shattered and laid in a thousand tiny pieces in the middle of the hay covered floor when he nodded. 

“Yes, maksura, I’m broken,” Ivar whispered with a faint voice and fought the warmth that spread to his cheeks, “I can’t hurt you, not like that.” A sweltering heat wave bloomed and burned his face brightly red. He drew his gaze down and squeezed his eyes shut, for he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his sniveling in. 

He overheard her scatter back on her feet and retreat to her box. His eyes were stinging and there was a lump in his throat the size of a fortress, one he could not swallow away.  

Dejection met him like an old friend; remembering all the other shared events that stayed with him as he rapidly put his clothes back on. 

Completely empty, Ivar retreated to the farthest side of his box, away from Piglet, for she now knew his most painful secret. That he could not get it up, that he was incapable of fucking a woman. 

Solemnly, he licked the blood from his wrist and counted sixteen perfect teeth marks. She got him good, had been able to get underneath his skin in a variety of ways. 

.-.-.

A/N: This too was a very important chapter, one that revealed secrets and fears. The title speaks for itself and goes two ways; one for the young man who wronged Piglet. And two, for Ivar who perceives himself as un-human due to his inabilities. I hope I was able to write this chapter well enough, I wanted to be ‘blunt’ and ‘in your face’ of how the lives of slaves are. No sugarcoating, no soft edges, this is what men can do to others, simply because they do see them as human beings. 

I also think this chapter changes the dynamic between Piglet and Ivar, because she now knows he isn’t able to hurt her like that, which makes him different to other men. 

This chapter means a lot to me, if you can please let me know what you think.

Xoxoxo Nukyster  

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[clintbartonswife]

eyes that plead

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier, Cirilla Summary: Abandoned and alone, Jaskier licks his wounds. Most people would think that would be metaphorically, but thanks to the witch Geralt had pissed off, Jaskier had in fact become a wolf. Yes, he was aware of the irony. Notes: inspired by an AO3 trope ive seen a lot of, angst & fluff, misunderstandings, animal transformation, hurt!jaskier masterlist  ||  part two

“Bollocks”

If you asked Jaskier how he ended up being chased through the forest by an angry mage, he honestly couldn't tell you. Though this situation was not a new one to the bard, he usually was aware of what he had done to anger the pursuer. This time? He had no idea.

Jaskier had just arrived at a new village, exhausted from travelling the road alone, when said mage had exited the local tavern, angry eyes immediately locking on him. So, here he was, running for his life the trees with absolutely no idea what he had done wrong.

Chancing a look behind him, Jaskier yelped as he tripped over a stray tree root, crashing to the ground in a muddle of limbs.

His groan was drowned out by the mage’s laugh, their body looming over Jaskier’s fallen form with a sinister grin.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, urgency clear in his tone as he began backing away, sliding over the dirty floor, “I - I have done you no harm. I had only just arrived at your village -”

“This is not your fault” the mage agreed, eyes shining with mischief, “This is your Witcher's fault - the White Wolf”

A bitter laugh escaped from Jaskier’s mouth without his consent, a dark shadow crossing his face, “He’s not my Witcher. Besides he couldn't care less about me, if this is some attempt at revenge I’m afraid you’ve found the wrong person”

“No. I think I’ve found exactly who I need”

Jaskier swore, attempting to back off further, but failed to escape as the mage’s magic washed over him.

“Sleep”

As a bard, Jaskier was not unaware of the hilarity of irony.

However, as he looked down at his aching body to see that of a wolf - as white as the first snow fall - he was not laughing.

No, he growled, the sensation feeling weird to him, yet oddly satisfying to do - almost like he was complaining aloud at his situation.

A snapping twig to his left broke him out of his mood, his whole body tensing in fear at the thought of a monster - or, hell, even a human - finding him in this state.

He backed up as a blonde girl broke through the tree line, her eyes panicked and wild. It took him a few seconds through his panicked haze, but he recognised the girl to be Cirilla, the princess he spent winters performing for at court - Geralt’s child surprise.

The familiar chest pain returned at the thought of the Witcher, only for a second, though enough to let out a small growl.

Cirilla whipped around, eyes locking on to the wolf with pleading eyes.

Jaskier tried to contort his body to be less imposing, sending out ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ vibes as best he could. He may have done better than he thought, as the next second the princess was approaching him, moving to hide behind him from whatever threat she had just run from.

‘Figures I would somehow adopt a child’ Jaskier huffed, rising back to his full height as more footsteps approached, ears flattened against his skull in warning.

As the two Nilfgardian soldiers strode into the clearing, Jaskier leapt at them, body acting on instinct as his teeth tore out their throats, their blood coating the inside of his mouth with a foul taste.

The moment the bodies fell to the ground, Jaskier let out a whine, immediately trying to wipe the blood off of his snout, spitting as much blood from his mouth as possible, falling on to his back with the unbalance that came with trying to stand on his hind legs.

“Stop - stop, you’re going to hurt yourself” Ciri said, slowly approaching the wolf, a handkerchief held in her outstretched hand, “Allow me?”

Sensing her skittishness, he sat completely still, watching as she approached him with a smile.

“You saved me” she stated, carefully reaching out to begin to wipe the blood from his face, “So I’m going to assume that this is okay to do”. She paused a fraction away from his snout, as if just realising the ridiculousness of her actions, “Please don't bite me”

Jaskier just continued looking at her, not sure if making a noise would reassure her or scare her away. Not moving seemed to be the right plan, the handkerchief finally beginning to wipe the sticky substance from his fur, his eyes closing in thanks.

Ciri’s giggle brought him out of his little trance, her eyes drawn to his tail which was wagging in delight.

“I’ll take that as a ‘pleased to meet you’“ she grinned, stepping back slightly, “There - I got as much of the blood as I could. Thank you again”

Jaskier watched as Ciri stood, her gaze moving reluctantly to the forest that surrounds them. 

“I don't suppose I could ask you to stay with me?” her voice was quiet and unsure, and for a moment she reminded him of himself - helpless and alone, “It’s rather frightening travelling by yourself”

Getting back onto all four limbs, he yipped, wagging his tail for extra measure.

The princess sighed in relief, looking back at the woods with an assured smile on her face, “You know, I almost feel like destiny brought me to you. Why else would you protect me?”

Jaskier wanted to roll his eyes and shout ‘because I’m a human! You know me!’, but then again it wasn't the princess’ fault that he was in this situation, so he simply yipped again, walking to stand next to her side, his fur slightly brushing against her leg in a reassuring manner.

“Now off to find the next part of my destiny” she smiled, looking down at him kindly, “Geralt of Rivia”

Son of a bitch.

The two of them had been travelling alone together for four days. 

The silence was filled with Ciri’s natter, Jaskier joining in as much as he was able.

‘Geralt’s going to have fun with this one’ Jaskier thought bitterly, ‘though maybe it was just my babbling he had a problem with’. 

“What should I call you?” Ciri had asked on the second morning, “I cant just keep calling you wolf - that’s awfully rude of me”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully, the noise coming ou as a weird rumble, before rushing over to a patch of wildflowers. Spotter a dandelion, he tried picking it delicately with his teeth (managing to only slightly maim it) and brought it back over to Ciri.

“Dandelion” she smiled, taking the flower from his teeth and placing it behind his ear, “I like it”

Four days through the woods, sleeping with Ciri’s head cushioned on Jaskier’s side, crowded close to the small fire that the princess managed to make. 

On the fifth day they managed to find a main road, the princess letting out a small whoop of joy at the signs of humanity.

“Perhaps we’ll be able to find some news of Geralt” she mused aloud, her hand absentmindedly playing with one of Jaskier’s ears. At his affirmative sound, Ciri smiled wider, moving her pace to a skip.

‘At least no sane person would try attack a young girl with a wolf beside her’ Jaskier though, not allowing his mind to stray too much as he tried to stay vigilant, ‘But with the war people are getting desperate. I wouldn't put it past most travellers these days’

He moved closer to Ciri, growling lowly as someone passed them, watching them closely until they passed.

“Would he have come to find me, do you think?” Ciri asked, her hand stroking through the fur on Jaskier’s head lightly, “If so we should go South, back towards Cintra”

Jaskier conveyed his dislike of that idea as obviously as possible, Ciri expressing her confusion. He simply nudged her North once again, before turning South and growling as loudly as he could.

“Okay, Okay” she giggled, “I get it! North good, South bad”

Jaskier nodded, satisfied that he’d managed to communicate successfully again.

The lady was kind, this Jaskier knew, though that didn't stop him from practically gluing himself to Ciri’s legs as they approached her house. When she had tried to get him to sleep outside, he had let out an involuntary growl, glaring at her from the foot of Ciri’s bed.

Picking up on his mood, Ciri had placed a hand on his side, fixing the woman with puppy-eyes, “I sleep better when he’s near” she said, her voice quiet and frail sounding, “He keeps me safe”

“Well - alright then. Just make sure he behaves himself”

Jaskier huffed, and if he could roll his eyes then he would have, but nevertheless settled into the soft blanket. ‘I’ve got to learn how to do those eyes’ he thought, slowly drifting off to sleep, ‘that would be very useful’

He was woken early the next morning, Ciri shaking him.

“We’ve got to go” she whispered, “I don't think we can trust them”

He was on alert at once, springing up from his position on the bed and standing guard by the door as he waited for Ciri to gather their meagre belongings, whole body tensed and ready to defend. 

In his sleepy-haze he knew that something must have alerted her, though couldn't tell for himself if it was justified. Nevertheless he stood his ground, following behind the princess as she crept out of the front door and into the forest.

Merely minutes into running, Jaskier came to a halt, his nose filling with a familiar scent.

“What? What is it?” Ciri asked, stumbling to a stop behind him.

Forest, Onion, the tang of blood - Geralt.

With a desperate bark, Jaskier nudged Ciri backwards until she got the message, following him as he chased towards the scent, slowing down as he caught sight of the Witcher, a stab of pain radiating in his chest.

Ciri copied him, letting out a small sound of relief, before racing towards Geralt, throwing herself at his open arms.

Watching the two of them embrace, Jaskier began to back up slowly, unsure if he should stay. He had done what he had promised to himself - delivered Ciri to Geralt - he was free to go, knowing that she would be safe.

He could find someone else to break his enchantment, another mage perhaps.

With one final glance at the pair, he slunk off deeper into the forest, tail hanging low between his legs, Geralt’s final words ringing in his ears.

‘If life could give me one blessing...’

Ciri looked up at Geralt, taking in the face of her protector.

“I knew we’d find you!” she laughed, stepping out of the comfort of his arms to turn around to her wolf, “See-?”

her voice cut off as she noticed the empty space where Dandelion once sat, a small sad noise escaping her. Sensing her distress, Geralt lay a hand on her shoulder.

“Who’s we?" he asked, following her eyeline to the empty forest floor.

“My wolf, Dandelion” she mumbled, steady waves of sadness seeping off of her, “he saved me from Nilfgaardian soldiers a week ago - he, he lead me to you”

Geralt ‘hmm’ed, frowning slightly at Ciri’s distress.

“No you don't understand” she cried, “He was my friend”

“He cant have gone far” Geralt mumbled, “But I’m injured, I cant be walking around the woods for long”

She turned back to him, eyes shining with hope, “but you’ll help me look?”

Geralt hummed again, nodding slightly, and only slightly recoiling when the girl grabbed his hand in his, beginning to pull him along through the wilderness.

“Dandelion?” She called, “Dandelion come back! Dandelion please!”

Jaskier huffed in defeat, Ciri’s pleading voice overpowering the overwhelming urge to flee from Geralt’s presence.

He yipped, sitting down where he was, not having the strength to carry on as much as he couldn't run back to him.

“Dandelion? Geralt I think that was him!”

A few moments later the two burst through the trees, Ciri exclaiming happily at the sight of him, barrelling forwards to hug him.

“Why did you leave?” She mumbled into his fur, sounding upset.

Jaskier simply tilted his head towards Geralt.

“Yes, we found him - oh, no that doesn't mean I don't need you anymore!” she cried, holding onto him tighter, “I need you as well! You’re my friend”

Jaskier sighed inwardly, silently accepting his fate.

‘Well at least she didn't call me a pet’ 

He tried to ignore the burning of Geralt’s stare, the side of his face burning with the intensity of it, instead focusing on Ciri’s mumblings.

“We should head back to the cottage” Geralt eventually said, voice tight, “I need to heal and it’s a safe place to stay for the night”

Ciri stood, looking at Jaskier warily, “You are coming with us aren't you?”

He sighed, standing back up with a ruffled glare at Geralt, before huffily stalking back towards the cottage.

In Ciri’s delight, she managed to miss the way Geralt tensed as the wolf passed him, his hand flying to his medallion instinctively as it buzzed.

Magic.

If Ciri noticed Geralt acting more on guard around Jaskier then she didn't say anything, but it was a bit of a kick in the teeth to know that even in his wolf form Geralt couldn't bare to be around him.

‘If he’s going to act like I’m such a nuisance, then I might as well become one’ he thought huffily, glaring at Geralt from his place next to the fire.

They had left the cottage a few days after finding Geralt, all wounds cleared up, and headed resolutely away from Sodden. The ash had only begun to settle as they walked away, the breeze bringing the burning smell of death in their direction - Jaskier was more than happy to leave that place.

Travelling with Geralt was practically the same as it always was, only this time he couldn't ride Roach even if he wanted to. Talking of the mare, Jaskier was pretty sure she recognised him, having received a cursory head bump to his back when they first saw each other again.

Annoying Geralt was harder, due to his lack of voice, but he had figured out one night that he could still sing - well, in some capacity anyway. So, Jaskier howled. He howled, staring Geralt dead in the eyes as Ciri clapped alongside him.

After their first week of travel, the two of them had developed a game: Ciri would name a song, and Jaskier would then try and howl it to the best of his ability, always staring at Geralt with a death glare that he was proud of.

“Isn't he amazing?” Ciri had said one night, watching Jaskier howl Fishmonger’s Daughter in awe, “I’ve never met a wolf that could howl like this - and he know all the songs!”

“Hmm” Geralt had hummed, in a way that said, ‘No, I’m not impressed in the slightest. In fact I would rather like to kill that wolf right now, but I wont because you seem to like him for some reason’. Or perhaps Jaskier was just projecting.

If truth be told, Jaskier wasn't surprised that Geralt didn't recognise him. After all, he was a completely different animal now, though that didn't stop the insistent hurt he’d get every time Geralt looked at him with the same distaste he had on the mountain. It made it worse in a way - knowing that no matter what form Jaskier came in he’d always find a way to make the Witcher hate him.

Still, that didn't stop his surprise when one night, now on the path to Kaer Morhen, Ciri turned to Geralt after waking up from a nightmare with a question.

“Who’s Jaskier?”

The two men froze, Geralt’s actions stuttering to a halt as he stared at the girl in - what was that? fear? regret? hatred? - ‘probably hatred’ and took a steadying breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Jaskier. I saw him in my dream. You seemed close”

Jasier scoffed at that, the noise coming out weirdly of his snout, prompting an odd look from the Witcher.

“We travelled together for many years” Geralt eventually said, his words slow and calculated.

‘Many years? 22 years is was more than half of my life!’ Jaskier thought bitterly, his mouth dropping into a silent snarl, before he realised and fixed it, turning his body away from the pair.

“Where is he now?”

“I don't know”

Jaskier wanted to jump up and scream ‘It’s me! I’m right here!’ but the uncertainty of Geralt’s reaction was stopping him, the fear of another rejection already returning to his body.

“Why don't you know? Did something happen?”

Cirilla was getting more insistent, her tone one of pure curiosity.

“We just decided to part ways” 

Now that, Jaskier did not agree with. He was so wrapped up in his anger that he didn't realise the growl that was rumbling through his chest, alarming the young girl.

“Can you hear something, Dandelion?” Ciri asked, moving closer to the wolf.

He rolled his eyes the best he could, ‘Yeah a vat of bullshit’

“Is there anything out there Geralt?”

The Witcher considered it for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Huh, that’s odd” Ciri moved closer, her hands beginning to stroke Jaskier’s back until he calmed down, the growl slowly retracting as sadness settled in it’s place.

‘He didn't even see it as a fight’ Jaskier realised, the sensation in his chest getting tighter, ‘it was just a means of getting rid of me’

He settled on the spot, letting it look like he had fallen asleep, all the while his mind brewing on different ways to leave. He’d be gone by morning - and he was leaving for good this time.

Geralt woke up some time in the early morning to rustling in their camp. 

Immediately on guard, he grabbed his silver sword from beside him, quietly rising until he was stood over the dying embers of the fire, eyes scanning the area for threats.

The surrounding area was clear, Ciri was in her bedroll and the wolf - 

The wolf was gone.

Geralt sighed, sitting back down on his bedroll with his sword lying over his lap as he waited for it to return. The animal had probably gone out hunting, it would be back in an hour or so.

Still, knowing this, an odd feeling in his gut kept him from returning to sleep, the witcher remaining awake and on guard as he waited for the sound of the wolf’s return.

When no such sound came after a few hours, he frowned. The sun had begun to rise, painting the area with a light orange haze.

Making sure not to stray too far away from the camp, he stood up, sword still in his hand, and began walking around the perimeter. He went as far out as he dared, until Ciri’s breathing was only the volume of a slight breeze.

A slight rustling of the fallen leaves caught his attention, Geralt’s head whipping to the left. There he saw the wolf, knocked out by a fallen branch, his tail moving sluggishly as his body begun to come back to it’s senses.

“Idiot” he grumbled, kneeling beside the animal, moving the branch away and checking for any broken bones as gently as he could.

A quiet whimper brought his attention back to the wolf’s face, the cornflower blue eyes swimming with such intense sadness that it sent Geralt reeling backwards, caught off-guard by the sudden recognition that rushed through him.

“Jaskier”

[satonthelotuspier]

For day 5 of Xichengclipse I offer you:

From The Same Mould

Fate had always been a cruel mistress to Jiang Cheng, but despite the obstacles he's faced, he is content with life, surrounded by a loving family.

Jin Ling visits from Lanling often, and Lan Xichen hates to get in the middle of their usual arguments, when they inevitably rub each other up the wrong way. This time he feels obliged to offer his advice, however.

A short take on another 'what if' Jiang Cheng had to learn to live without a golden core universe.

Jiang Cheng had loved picking up his beautifully-wrought bow as a child. His mother had had the bow specially designed, so he could draw it younger than most with his smaller, childish muscles. He had been an excellent shot, praised by the other disciples, and patted on the head by his sister, and told he was such a good archer.

When Wei Wuxian had arrived everything seemed to change.

His father, always so reticent in Jiang Cheng’s hearing, suddenly became effuse with praise, the young Wei Wuxian, his new shixiong, was the most wonderful shot, was such an accomplished swordsman, could do everything bigger, better, faster than Jiang Cheng, who seemed to run along in his shadow, struggling to be seen, to be heard, to just keep up.

He had run to his mother once, when he was ten, to show her the kite he had hit with his arrows, desperate for even a little congratulation to himself. On reflection as an adult, he realised he might have caught her at the wrong moment, as she had been marching away from his father’s rooms, perhaps they had argued bitterly again; Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian’s clear preference for him was always such a bone of contention between them, but she had stared at him, demanded to know how many arrows he’d loosed, then scolded him for missing with one.

He had been a child, armed with a vicious temper, inherited from her, and he had gone back to his own rooms and smashed the frame of his bow into pieces, throwing it out of the window.

Of course he had been punished for it, and every time afterwards, that he had refused to lift a bow again.

The pain of the whippings had been so much less than the knowledge he would never be good enough to come under the notice of his own father, or to please his mother.

***

Fate was always a cruel mistress, however. And he had found himself forced by tragic circumstances to pick up a bow again many years later.

The tragedy had begun the day the Wens marched on Lotus Pier. Though Yu-furen had sent he and Wei Wuxian away, it had so happened he was captured days later in Yiling, and taken back into the custody of the Wens, where his cultivational ability was destroyed through the melting of his golden core.

Though he had prayed for death, fate was never a kind mistress to Jiang Cheng, and he had lived; to spite him, to make Wei Wuxian feel better, whatever the reason; Wei Wuxian had spirited him out of there, and escaped.

The Sunshot Campaign, as the uprising against the Wens had been come to be known, had been started in earnest shortly afterwards, and Jiang Cheng, golden core-less and weak, had been told to sit on the sidelines, like a child being told to let the adults work.

Like it hadn’t been his parents slaughtered at Lotus Pier, like it hadn’t been his core melted by Wen Chao’s pet, like it hadn’t been his chest scarred for life by the vindictive beating with a Jiang sect discipline whip, that those foul Wen hands hadn’t been fit to touch.

Jiang Cheng was a stubborn, vengeful man, and those instructions had been anathema to him. So, despite his distaste, he had picked up a bow again.

He may not have a golden core to support the use of qi energy, or to allow him to use spiritual weapons, but swordsmanship and archery were muscle memory, and he became an instantly recognisable sight on the Jianglian front, always fighting far away from his head disciple, Wei Wuxian, for fear of causing him to split his attention trying to protect Jiang Cheng, and putting him in danger.

He had been an excellent shot, if not quite as good as Wei Wuxian, and he had been deadly on the battlefield, and somehow kept the truth of his golden core secret to only a select few. They had questioned why he preferred the bow to the sword, but there had always been some easy excuse, no one looked closely if you presented them with a reasonable explanation.

It had been a long and bloody war, Jiang Cheng’s parents and his sect had only been the beginning of the bloodshed, and it had cost untold lives to finally bring the Wens down.

But in the end it had been accomplished, and they had slowly begun to rebuild the damage the Wens had caused, including to Lotus Pier.

***

Wei Wuxian had stayed by his side longer than he should have, considering the relationship that had developed between Lan Wangji and his former head disciple. He had been fearful at first that the new Yunmeng Jiang sect, rising from the ashes, would be an easy target for the clans jostling for power, if it had been discovered Jiang Cheng was no longer able to use his qi, and therefore he had stayed to be the muscle behind the power.

It had only been once Jiang Cheng had announced his own betrothal to a Lan that Wei Wuxian had finally listened to him.

Who would attack the Sandu Shengshou, sect leader of Yunmeng Jiang and the husband of Zewu-jun, after all?

Zewu-jun had sent him the most beautiful courting gifts, not least the bow with silver snakes curling their tails around the grip, and twisting up and down the limbs, that he had personally designed for Jiang Cheng.

There had been a time he would have rather cut off his own hands that lift a bow, but now, holding that specially wrought wood and silver in his hands had seemed perfectly right.

***

“Your grip is still too tight, A-Ling.” Lan Xichen looked up from the correspondence he was reading, ensconced in the shade of a tree.

He knew where this was heading, but there wasn’t much he could do about it at this stage. Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng were too similar in temperament for it to be possible to avoid the explosion that was about to follow.

“A-Cheng…” he tried anyway, but Jin Ling’s voice drowned his out.

“I’m still hitting the target on every shot,” his sharp jawline notched up, a sure sign he was prepared to argue and rile Jiang Cheng up over the issue.

“You’re standing in front of a stupid bit of hay in a field in the sunlight.” Jiang Cheng snapped, his own chin lifting and his nostrils flaring in annoyance.

It was like looking at a mirror arguing with itself, they looked so similar; in features, in the way they held themselves, and in temper. It made for some interesting battles when Jin Ling visited from Lanling. It wasn’t helped by the fact today was so warm, and they had both been in the sun for a good part of the afternoon, increasing irritability.

“I’ve shot on night hunts too, I’m a good shot.”

“You can be better, if you use your ears, and not just your mouth to give me grief all the time,”

“What, second best wasn’t good enough for you? So you’re going to yell at me because I’m not perfect like you wished you were?”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth opened, then snapped shut, rather like a fish. And then they really began to argue; they even attacked verbally in the same way, not caring what they said to hurt the other, until Jiang Cheng threw his arms up, and with a cry of: “This child,” he stomped off back towards Lotus Pier.

Jin Ling muttered under his breath, marching over to the target to pull the arrows from the bales, snatching them out so hard he snapped one in his temper.

So like his jiujiu it was rather amusing. And annoying.

Lan Xichen sighed, and rose, and Jin Ling seemed to startle at the realisation he was still there. He couldn’t meet Lan Xichen’s eyes, sure he was going to be told off again by the husband of his uncle.

But Lan Xichen had spent years ensuring he didn’t take sides in their verbal battles; he ensured the same when Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian argued too, as did Wangji.

He smiled, “Jin Ling, it would benefit you to listen to Wanyin when he gives you advice, I know he doesn’t always have the best way of teaching…”

Jin Ling didn’t hide his snort at that. He wouldn’t dare to speak ill of his uncle to Lan Xichen, however, even if he would dare to Jiang Cheng’s face.

“...but he is a very fine archer. He has fought on many battlefields and in many night hunts. And you are one of the few people who know how difficult achieving and maintaining that reputation has been for him. His first choice would never have been to pick up a bow ever again.”

Jin Ling had the good grace to look a little ashamed, but then he snapped his chin up again, “I won’t apologise, he’s always so hard on me.”

“He’s showing you he cares, Jin Ling, his manner isn’t the most well-suited or nurturing, but he’s hard on you because he loves you.”

Jin Ling rolled his eyes, but said nothing more, and Lan Xichen nodded a goodbye to him before moving off to find his husband.

***

Jiang Cheng was, as expected, letting off steam in his private pavilion, when Lan Xichen arrived. He had stripped out of the heavier outer robes in acknowledgement of the oppressive heat, and swung viciously through Jiang sect sword forms.

Lan Xichen was generally loathe to approach the other in this mood, but Jin Ling raking over difficult memories worried him a little. Jiang Cheng had put most of the past behind him, and was content with his life, if not completely happy, due to how much he had lost, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still have the power to hurt him.

He paused briefly besides the other’s sword, Sandu, which had been placed with his bow carefully out of the way.

Sandu was the sword Jiang Cheng carried for show only, to maintain the image that the Sandu Shengshou was a sect leader like any other. As far as Lan Xichen knew, it had only been drawn to clean it in the twenty or so years since the razing of Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng used a generic sword for moving through his forms, and, upon noticing Lan Xichen, instead of trying to rile him in to sparring as he might normally, finished his movement, sheathed the sword, and stalked over.

Just pleased he hadn’t been goaded into fighting with him, Lan Xichen wasn’t quite expecting to suddenly have his arms full of de-raged husband.

He wrapped them tightly around Jiang Cheng, and held him.

“Little animal,” Jiang Cheng muttered into his shoulder, and Lan Xichen made a soothing sound.

Eventually though, he had to extend the same talking to as he had to Jin Ling.

“You could be a little less abrasive with him, all you end up achieving is stroking each other’s fur the wrong way.”

Jiang Cheng was silent for a while, then; “I know. Every time I do I always think of A-Niang, I know it’s not ideal…”

“But you’re both cut from the same mould as Yu-furen was.”

Jiang Cheng nodded against his chest.

“You should tell him you’re proud of him. He’ll be going home to Lanling soon, and he’d probably like to hear it. Even though he’d never admit it.” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng nodded again, pulling back a little to look into Lan Xichen’s eyes.

“I’ll try. A-Jie won’t have to send me such a strongly worded letter if I don’t send him back in a foul mood, like last time.” There was a touch of self-mockery around Jiang Cheng’s mouth, and Lan Xichen couldn’t resist the urge to taste the edge of it from the corner of his lips.

It was sweet with just a touch of bitterness, with the underlying taste of Wanyin.

He hmm’ed his appreciation, and went chasing another taste, which Jiang Cheng welcomed, but took control of with a hand in his hair, tangling with the loose strands and tails of his headband both. It sent a jolt through him, Jiang Cheng touching his headband never failed to thrill him, even now, so many years later, the material was such a part of who he was it was always as if the other had touched him, skin against skin.

Eventually, regretfully, Jiang Cheng pulled back, pausing only to meet gazes, his surprisingly unguarded and full of his complex feelings that he rarely ever gave voice to.

“You’re right, I should go and speak to Jin Ling now. This, we continue later, husband.” Jiang Cheng promised, and Lan Xichen nodded his agreement.

[blissedoutphil]

Dan the Personal Assistant Part 10

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

4209 words of Dom!Phil, sub!dan, blowjob, riding, bath sex

I really meant to be more productive with writing in lockdown but all I got was writer’s block and suddenly 2 months have passed?? sigh. Finally the new chapter’s here after rewriting it countless times omg I’m just as happy as you are.

~Part 9~

~Part 11~

or read on ao3!

Since then, they started having sex more often, until it became something normal for them. Natural even. Dan still initiated more than Phil, and he understood whenever Phil had to turn him down to actually do work.

Dan dared to feel happy. He was content with this arrangement, even if he was technically still just a personal whore. It was definitely better than when Phil was adamant about having a fine line drawn between them. Nothing wrong had happened yet, which Dan was relieved about and he was confident that nothing bad could happen with this arrangement. Phil had probably been paranoid about nothing.

It went on for weeks, but Dan never got bored or tired of being pounded by Phil on any random surface in the office, quick fucks that were rough and hard and left him feeling like his insides were rearranged. He loved even more the lesser moments where Phil would go sweet and slow, take care of him in a way that he can pretend that they’re more than just in a “professional” relationship. But he was careful not to dwell too much and let his mind overthink any of Phil’s actions, especially the ones that seemed more loving than usual. Repress those feelings and all will go well.

But no matter what Dan told himself, of course he still felt like there was something missing. He started longing for more. Leaving the office to an empty home always felt lonely, falling asleep alone in bed wasn’t as good as falling asleep in the office with Phil tucking him into the couch. He actually felt sad whenever work ended and looked forward to weekdays instead of weekends, which would’ve sounded crazy to him just a year ago.

He knew one way to stop feeling lonely on Sundays; the idea had always been on the back of his mind. He’d been resilient enough not to follow through though as he felt like it wasn’t a good idea. But one particular weekend felt rough, and even though he knew he was going to meet his boss the next day, he felt like he really couldn’t go through that Sunday without him.

So against better judgement, he found himself standing outside the snug coffee shop. He could already see Phil at his usual corner busy with his laptop, from peering into the window.

What are you trying to do, Dan? he sighed.

But his feet dragged him into the shop anyway. He pretended that he really was there for another coffee, after all it was always a place he had wished to frequent before he had the means to do so.

He ordered the caramel macchiato again, and intentionally walked near Phil’s table.

“Oh, hey boss,” he said as he bumped into the empty chair at Phil’s table, feigning surprise.

“Dan!” Phil was certainly caught off guard to see his boy there.

“Working again?” Dan tried to make small talk, stalling his time there without seeming too obvious or desperate to stay.

“Yeah. Caramel macchiato again?” Phil chuckled.

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence, with Dan wanting to ask if he could stay but not sure how to.

“You can join me if you’d like, no need to be shy y’know,” Phil smiled knowingly.

Dan didn’t know if he liked or hated how readable he was, but he accepted the offer. It was like Phil knew just how bad he needed to see him today. And maybe Phil wanted to see him just as much too, he mused.

“You should try their latte next time,” Phil suggested.

--------

So there was a next time. And a next time after that. And as weeks passed, Dan found himself falling into yet another routine. Throwing caution to the wind, he always ended up at the cafe, staring into the window for about ten minutes debating in his head whether it’d be a good idea before eventually giving in and going in anyway. Phil never seemed to mind, he seemed excited almost whenever Dan appeared. And Dan only took that as a sign to return again the next week.

Dan was still going through the menu as recommended by Phil. He took his cup of cold brew and headed to his seat. He didn’t really know what time Phil always arrived, he didn’t even ask beforehand if Phil would be coming or if he could spend the day with him, he just shows up. Looking back, it was funny how he used to be worried if Phil would want him there or not, now he just knew without Phil needing to say anything.

He never followed Phil home for dinner again like the first time, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. They were both content to spend their Sunday afternoons in companionable silence and do nothing more that could potentially disrupt their current arrangement. Or perhaps neither of them dared to take the next step. But they seemed comfortable for now.

That was until.

“Dan.”

Dan looked up from his cup.

“I have to go on a business trip on Tuesday.”

“Oh,” Dan said, not really sure how to answer.

“Yeah, it’s quite a last minute thing. The new partner needed me over at their headquarters. I’ll be gone for a week.”

Hearing that made Dan already start to miss Phil, which didn’t make sense since he was still sitting right in front of him.

“Where you headed to?”

“New York.”

“So... I won’t be going to work next week?”

“Oh don’t think you’re off the hook from work that easily,” Phil said cheekily, and Dan quirked his eyebrow in curiosity. Was he supposed to serve the other staff in the office or something?

“You’re coming with me, mister.”

Dan gaped, “Really?”

“Unless you don’t want to,” Phil shrugged nonchalantly.

“You’re letting me choose?” Dan asked, still somewhat in shock.

“Of course, why would I force you into things,” Phil looked a little offended.

“I mean- I’m just. I’ve never even been out of the UK, why would I choose to stay here?!”

Phil laughed, the corners of his eyes scrunching up in the way that was downright adorable.

“I gotta warn you, some of the other staff would also be there. I’ll arrange a different flight for us, we can get there before the rest. You might have to hide in the hotel room like you do in our office if you don’t wanna see them.”

Dan was fine with that, he still would rather not cross paths with anyone else in the office. Over time, Dan realised that Phil had become more possessive over him and felt the same way too. Unlike Phil’s previous assistant, Dan did not want to get acquainted with anyone else, and Phil did not have any interest in sharing anymore either.

Dan couldn’t stop grinning the rest of the day. What is his life.

-------

The flight was long but comfortable as Phil had booked them business seats, and Dan spent a lot of time like a little child looking out the aeroplane window in amazement.

He squashed all thoughts about how this could be anything more than a business trip with his boss. Who most probably brought him along just for the sexual relief. But when Phil slept with his head leaned on his shoulder, he couldn’t help but entertain thoughts about how maybe Phil wanted more than that too.

They settled into their hotel room quickly, both tired from the long flight. Phil didn’t skimp on the room either, getting one on a high floor overlooking Central Park, with a living room in the suite. Dan thought it was too much for a week’s stay, he’d be fine lounging on the king sized bed all day, but Phil insisted to have a room as comfortable as possible for Dan while he’d be out working.

Dan was feeling like he was harbouring on being a sugar baby, but he didn’t voice that out. He’d planned on giving Phil a blowjob or something as a form of thanks for this trip, but they were both so tired that they fell asleep instead.

------

Dan woke up a couple of hours later, stretching out his long limbs. He’d never slept in such a comfortable bed before. He froze when his foot brushed against another, then he turned to see that Phil was asleep next to him. His heart pounded a bit faster, realising that this was the first time they’d slept together. They’d been too tired to even think properly, they’d even fallen asleep without changing or at least washing up a little.

He quietly got out of bed and to the bathroom to have a quick shower. The bathroom was lavish, with an inviting tub that he couldn’t wait to use. When he was done, he walked out to see that Phil was already up and waiting his turn to use the shower.

Dan was quite surprised at how comfortable it all felt. He didn’t feel awkward at all sharing the room with his boss, but he guessed that it was probably because he’d spent so long sharing the office room with him anyway. He found it funny almost; the man who was so adamant in setting up boundaries between them months ago was almost gone.

He explored the room a bit more properly now that he wasn’t tired. The first thing he realised was that there was only one bed. He didn’t know if it was excitement or nerves that he felt as he thought about sharing the bed with Phil for a week. And did Phil get a room with just one bed on purpose?

“Had a good rest?” Phil asked as he stepped out of the shower.

“Mhmm,” Dan smiled from where he was knelt unpacking his luggage. Not that he brought many clothes, if the rules in office were to apply here as well. Already he was just in his boxers, feeling comfortable enough.

It was already dark out, but jetlag caused them both to be wide awake. Phil made a quick order for room service, and they both lounged in the living room sofa in front of the tv while waiting for their food.

Except Dan had no intention of watching tv.

“Thank you for bringing me along on this trip, Sir,” he said, voice sultry.

He slid off the sofa and sank to his knees between Phil’s legs, not caring about subtleties.

Phil chuckled and spread his legs, “I mean I gotta admit it was for selfish reasons but I guess it is a win-win.”

Dan’s fingers traced along the waistline of Phil’s sweatpants, which Dan thought he looked absolutely hot in, even when compared to the usual business attire he was used to seeing his boss in. There was a dent forming in Phil’s pants where it was obvious he was growing hard already. He tugged Phil’s pants down, surprised to find that Phil was going commando.

He got Phil’s cock in his mouth in no time. They’d done this enough times that it felt like second nature to Dan already. He was so used to the feel of Phil in his mouth, the taste of him and his scent flooding his nose. He was used to the sounds Phil makes, knowing what each meant for Phil. He prided himself in his job, no matter how unusual it may be to outsiders.

He was so used to it that it didn’t even feel like a job anymore.

Phil’s hand had snaked through his curls, tugging gently as a sign for him to speed up. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked on Phil’s cock, moving off only to suck on his balls before moving back to get Phil’s whole length in his mouth.

Phil moaned. He was so glad that Dan agreed to follow him on this trip. He was certain that he’d have a lot of pent up energy, not to mention feeling lonely, if he was here alone and away from Dan for a whole week.

He canted his hips up a little, pushing himself into Dan more. It was a quickie, a little sloppy but he could feel and see how much Dan was putting himself into it. He loves that about Dan, he never half-asses the things he does. He always made sure to put in extra effort to give him pleasure, and Phil appreciated that.

Phil held Dan’s head in place as he felt himself getting closer, even though he knew Dan wouldn’t move away anyway. Soon, he was coming in Dan’s mouth, shivering in pleasure as he felt Dan swallow around him.

He looked down to see Dan finally pop off his dick, lips swollen red and pupils dilated. He could see that Dan was also aroused, his own boxers looking way too tight now.

Just as he was about to suggest returning the favour, their doorbell rang. Dan scrambled to get up while Phil did so too. Phil quickly redressed and went to the door, letting room service in.

“Well I was about to get you off too but... now that the food is here, let’s dig in first,” Phil smirked, trying not to laugh at Dan's adorable pout.

Dan stifled a grumble as he tried to eat while still horny. At least the denial reminded him that nothing’s really changed except their location.

-----------

Phil was even busier with work than usual, leaving their room really early the next day and fighting off his jetlag to attend countless meetings throughout the day. He even had to attend a business dinner with his partners and staff, and felt guilty for leaving Dan all alone til the late hours of the night.

Of course he didn’t confine Dan to their room like Rapunzel’s stepmom. As he unlocked their door and stepped inside after a long day, he found that he was rather looking forward to hearing about Dan’s day than anything else Dan could do with his mouth.

Dan had had a really relaxing day, having gone for a swim in the hotel pool before heading out to explore Central Park.

“I found a cafe that might possibly be better than our coffee shop back home,” Dan was gleaming as he told Phil about his day.

“No way,” Phil said in mock offence, “you dare say that our cafe is defeated?”

Dan giggled, nodding his head.

“Well you’d better bring me there on my off day. I won’t believe it til I see it for myself, boy. If I even get an off day, that is,” Phil sighed, feeling tired.

It was already past 1am, and he had another early start tomorrow. Business trips aren’t as fun as people make them out to be, and he was so glad that he had company this time.

-------

The next few days went by the same, with Phil leaving early and coming back late to listen to Dan’s day before hitting the sack. Dan felt bad for not doing what he was there to do, but Phil seemed way too busy to even think about sex. One night, he was still writing emails past midnight, and had even told Dan to go to bed first.

On Saturday, Dan came back earlier after doing a bit of shopping. Phil still had meetings to attend, but he’d said that he was able to finish work before dinner.

So Dan had a plan to help his boss relax after a tiring few days. He’d bought some bath bombs and scented candles on his shopping spree. He lit candles all around the room, and prepared a bath.

Phil opened the door and was immediately greeted with a soothing scent. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the sunset glow and leaving the room to be lit only by the several scented candles scattered around.

He could feel tension slowly leave his shoulders as he walked further into the room. He found Dan on their bed, in nothing but a bathrobe.

“What’s all this?” he asked softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

After Dan set up everything, he was afraid that it all looked a tad too romantic and his boss might get the wrong idea. But his worries melted away as Phil stood before him looking really appreciative of his work.

“My job is to help you relax, isn’t it, Sir?” Dan said as he stood up and closed the space between them, “and I’ve been quite shit at that recently. Gotta make up for it somehow.”

“Nonsense, Dan,” Phil argued, his hands landing on Dan’s waist, “you help me relax every night with stories of your day. But this sure is a treat.”

Phil leaned in and kissed Dan, feeling Dan practically melt into his touch. Dan broke the kiss sooner than Phil would’ve liked to, to loosen Phil’s tie. Once the tie was off, he tugged at Phil’s blazer til it was off too.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you, Sir,” Dan murmured as he unbuttoned Phil’s shirt.

“I like the sound of that,” Phil replied as he was practically pushed towards the bathroom.

The lavender aroma hit Phil the moment he opened the bathroom door. He turned around when he realised Dan had stepped back.

“Aren’t you gonna join me?” he raised an eyebrow.

Dan looked like he hadn’t expected that request.

“Oh, I thought you’d like some alone time,” he spoke timidly.

“I’m pretty sure your company would help me relax more,” Phil stated as he walked into the bathroom, not bothering to see if Dan would follow him in.

Because of course Dan would follow him in.

Phil was already stepping into the tub when Dan shut the door behind him. Candles were also scattered around the bathroom, giving a soft glow.

“Tub’s big enough for both of us,” Phil stated, looking at Dan expectantly.

Dan felt nervous suddenly, but in the good way where the butterflies in his tummy were drunk. Was that a good way? He wasn’t sure. He felt Phil practically undress him with his eyes before he even got to shrug his robe off.

“I-I brought wine,” he announced shyly, taking the bottle and glasses that he’d hidden in one of the cabinets.

He poured two glasses for them and placed them at the corner of the tub before quickly slipping in opposite Phil, letting the lavender aroma fill his senses.

“So how was your day?” Phil asked as he took his glass.

Dan relaxed into the tub as he went on about his adventures trying to find the perfect bath bomb, how he got mistaken for being one of the salesperson at Yankee Candle and almost got yelled at by a customer even though they were the one mistaking him for a worker.

Much like the previous days, they both enjoyed just sitting in each other’s company listening to stories about their day. Dan loved how everything was feeling so natural between them.

Phil could feel his stress float away with every sip of wine and every funny anecdote his boy told animatedly. The water was still warm and smelled so calming. He stretched his legs, grazing against Dan’s thighs as he did so.

He didn’t miss the tiny pause from Dan when his foot touched his thigh.

“Thank you for your effort, I appreciate all this,” Phil sighed happily.

Dan smiled, glad that his surprise worked.

“I only have one problem.”

Dan’s smile faded, immediately wracking his brain for all possibilities of what could be wrong.

“You are sat way too far away right now,” Phil stated matter-of-factly.

Dan chuckled, shaking his head slightly in relief. He turned around in the tub carefully to move into Phil’s waiting arms. Phil hummed happily as he pulled Dan closer to him, til Dan’s back was pressed against his chest.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Dan leaning against Phil and Phil tracing little circles on Dan’s chest and tummy as they let the scented bubbly water soak them. Dan closed his eyes and in this quiet moment, he dared to pretend that they were more than what they really were. It was a dangerous game to play, but he’d found himself playing pretend more and more these days.

Soon, Phil’s mouth found his way to Dan’s damp neck. Dan tilted his head to give him more access. Phil left sloppy open mouthed kisses, tasting soap on his lips. His hands had settled on Dan’s nipples, beginning to tug on them.

Dan whimpered, feeling himself get hard. He rested his hands on Phil’s knees so that he wouldn’t lose control and touch himself.

“I believe I still owe you an orgasm from our first day here,” Phil whispered hotly against Dan’s neck.

Dan had almost forgotten that he still hadn’t gotten relief, but his cock twitched at the reminder. He moaned as Phil bit on his neck and began sucking a hickey.

One hand snaked away from Dan’s nipple and slid further down til it was ghosting around Dan’s hard cock resting against his lower stomach. Dan let out a strangled whine and gripped Phil’s knees harder.

Phil began stroking Dan slowly, touch ever so light, while still playing with Dan’s nipple and decorating his neck with more hickeys. Dan moaned, his head tilting back to rest against Phil’s shoulder. Phil took the opportunity to kiss along Dan’s jaw.

Dan could feel Phil’s erection against his ass.

“H-hold on,” he stuttered, struggling to stop Phil’s ministrations.

Phil stopped, confused, his hand still loosely wrapped around Dan’s dick. Dan held onto the edge of the tub to give himself leverage. He sat up for a moment and reached below to grab Phil’s cock.

Phil moaned at Dan’s touch, and his eyes widened at the realisation of what Dan was about to do. Before he could say anything, Dan had sunk down onto his dick.

“God,” Phil moaned heavily.

Dan began riding him slowly, careful not to move too much lest water spills out of the tub.

“Did you even stretch?” Phil asked.

“Candles and wine and this bath weren’t the only things I prepared,” Dan admitted sheepishly.

“God,” Phil repeated, and regained his grip on Dan’s cock.

Dan was moving too slow for Phil’s liking, so he urged his boy to speed up. His strokes on Dan’s cock matched Dan’s speed, which encouraged Dan to move faster.

Some water eventually did splash out of the tub, but Dan didn’t care anymore. He could feel himself breaking out a sweat despite being in a bath. He clenched around Phil every time Phil squeezed his shaft.

They moved in a rhythm for a bit, the purple water swirling and foam floating around them. Dan could feel his orgasm building up soon enough, and he rocked his hips faster, lifting up with more urgency and sinking onto Phil’s lap harder.

Phil was also jerking him off quicker. His lips were glued to Dan’s neck, his other hand still playing with Dan’s nipples. Dan was overwhelmed with sensations from all over his body, and he loved how Phil could reduce him to a moaning mess just like that.

“Close, Sir,” Dan uttered, hanging his head as he continued riding Phil.

“After me,” Phil grunted and sped up his movement’s on Dan’s throbbing cock.

Water splashed around them as Dan rode Phil with earnest, helping Phil chase his orgasm. Within a few more moments, Dan felt Phil shudder behind him, groaning as he came.

As Dan felt himself get filled with warm fluid, he also finally let go. Phil pumped him throughout his orgasm, and he clenched around Phil as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. When he was finally done coming, he slumped against Phil.

Phil was kissing the bruises he’d formed on Dan’s neck, not bothered to lift Dan off of him.

“Coming underwater feels the same as peeing underwater,” Dan uttered, brain too fuzzy to think before speaking.

He could feel his boss’s laugh vibrate through his body as much as he heard it.

“Up you get,” Phil hit Dan’s ass, “the water’s gross now that you’ve come in it.”

They got out of the tub and drained it, and Phil pulled Dan into the shower to quickly rinse both of them off.

Dan felt about ready to sleep, but they had not eaten, so he called room service for them. They ate on the bed together, making plans for the next day as it was Sunday so Phil had the day off.

After eating, they got comfortable under the blankets, and Dan didn’t want to think about how easily Phil pulled him closer, how easily he snuggled into Phil’s chest, how easily they spooned each other until their breaths evened out and they dozed into peaceful slumber.

Dan didn’t want to think about how easy it was to get used to yet another routine. He did not want to think about how this routine would get snatched away from him once this trip ends, and things at home would feel like a step back. He didn’t want to think about any of it, so for now he just pretended that it will always be this way.

------------

~Part 9~

~Part 11~

I’ve gotten stuck and rewritten new ideas so many times that idek if I like this anymore, it’s been so long since the fic started that idek if it even flows smoothly but I hope it does, and what matters is that you like the updates, so thank you for still being here for this fic <3

[maandags]

maybe if he’d come back earlier everything would have been fine.

it wasn’t even in the middle of the night, like you’d read in the stories, or how you’d see in the films, where the long-lost lover finds their way back to the one they’d left behind and shows up on their doorstep at two in the morning, rousing them from their sleep.

no, it was a regular saturday afternoon, two p.m. instead of two a.m, and he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and the only thing that had visibly changed about him was the fact that his hair had gotten longer–and there also was a scar on his cheek. and one at the base of his neck. and another one cutting through his hairline. you wondered how many more old wounds his clothes hid.

“y/n,” Matt Holt said, and his voice had the audacity to sound like that–soft and relieved and full of sadness and on the verge of breaking–and you had never wanted to punch someone more.

you nodded, lips puckering out, and walked right past him, pulling the door shut behind you and making sure to clip his shoulder. you didn’t think you imagined the hurt flashing across his face. your hand didn’t even tremble when you shoved your keys into your car door, even though your vision was hazy. 

you left him standing on your driveway, and you didn’t think you saw him move at all until he was out of your rear mirror’s sights.

–

he came back twice after that, and you closed the door in his face both times. it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore him–but he’d been missing for years, and you’d only just come to terms with him truly being gone. you’d only just accepted the fact that you really would never fall asleep in his arms again, and that you’d never hear the soft wobble of his voice first thing in the morning. you’d only just started to get whatever was left of your life back together.

you guessed you had been supposed to fly into his arms whenever he had first walked up to your front door. that was what the dainty and abandoned lover giddy with happiness would have done. in the stories. in the fairytales. where the prince saves the princess and they get a happy ending.

but you’d long ago realised that your life was no fairytale. that sometimes you didn’t get to have a happy ending.

when you’d gotten word of Matt disappearing, you had refused to even consider the possibility of him being dead despite the pitiful looks and awkward pats on the shoulder you’d received from your co-workers. lost in space, you remembered telling yourself over and over whenever you’d wake from another nightmare in which Matt’s corpse would be dumped on your doorstep. not dead. lost in space.

lost and found.

–

this time was different. it was in fact late at night when he returned, wringing his hands and his eyes cloudy. you narrowed your eyes at him from where you sat on the bench on your porch, pulling the quilt you’d lugged out closer around you and starting to get up, gathering up your mug of tea. you spared him one flitting look before reaching for the doorknob, but your hand froze in mid-air when he said, “please stop doing that.”

you didn’t turn. “doing what?”

“you know what. avoiding me. you won’t even look at me.”

it was true, of course. it hurt to look at him, to see him whole and very much alive and wonder what he saw when he looked at you. 

“i don’t owe you anything.”

“i know. but i was hoping–i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

your hand came to rest on the doorknob, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn it. instead you forced the words you’d been mulling over in your head for days to slip past your lips. “sorry for what? for disappearing on a mission i told you not to go on? for making me cry myself to sleep every night for years, thinking if i’d just been more insistant, just pushed a little harder, you would still have been here with me?” you barked out a bitter laugh. “Matt, you died years ago. you shouldn’t have come back.”

–

the worst part was that you knew it wasn’t his fault.

logically, of course. he couldn’t have controlled being kidnapped by aliens–it was all over the news. he and his team were a world-wide sensation–but you had been telling yourself for so long that he wouldn’t come back, and now that he had… it just felt fake, somehow. 

no, that wasn’t it. your entire world had been snatched out from beneath you, and you hated feeling this helpless, powerless, everything spiralling out of your control. the careful lies you’d built to help you get through the days had been shattered in one word–your name from his lips.

you hated how he made you feel–how he still made you feel, even after you promised yourself you’d move on. you hated how in the small hours of the night you lay awake, wondering if he’d still feel the same way he used to, wanting to map his body out beneath your fingertips once more. rediscovering. 

you hated the feeling of falling all over again.

– 

and then you were standing in front of his house.

you didn’t know why your feet had felt the need to lead you all the way to the other side of town, to the house you’d been actively trying to avoid for years. but you had a feeling it was maybe time to start facing it. 

you hadn’t had a nightmare as bad as the one you’d had this night in a long time. and you hadn’t woken screaming and crying, but dazed. numb. limbs feeling heavy enough that they seemed to sink right through the mattress, pulling you along with them. suffocating. suffocating. you needed air.

Matt had always been your air. 

you weren’t even sure if he’d be home, but then you saw his silhouette moving behind his bedroom window, and the breath was knocked right out of you as you were flung into the past.

“i can see you when you’re undressing. you know that, right. you need to move to another spot.” 

he’d smile that crooked grin of his. “you don’t like seeing me undress?”

“i never said i didn’t. i just don’t like it when you undress in front of the whole damn street.” you’d huff out a breath, tugging at his jean’s belt loops. he’d flush a deep crimson, as he always did whenever you turned his own cheeky flirting against him. you leaned close to his ear, letting your lips barely brush his jaw. “that’s for only me to see.”

he turned, and you locked eyes. without a word, you spun on your heel and marched out of the street.

– 

it was almost like you’d coordinated it. 

you didn’t know what had caused you to take the detour to your tree. Matt and your tree. the swings hung from the same place they always had, and Matt was seated on one of them, using his feet to rock himself back and forth. he cocked his head when he spotted you, but his once-soft brown eyes were dark–darker than they should have been. it was a sunny day. if you closed your eyes, you could recall the exact shade of his eyes on a sunny day.

you took your seat beside him, and for a moment when neither of you spoke, it almost felt right.

“don’t apologise.”  you couldn’t say how you’d known he was going to apologise, but you just knew, because you knew him.

“i’m still going to.” his voice was almost swept away by the wind, and yet you found yourself drawn to it like a moth to flame. “i’ll apologise as many times as i need to.”

“what for?” it was an echo of one of the first things you’d said to him since he’d been back. sorry for what? except this time, you actually meant it. you were curious as to what he thought he needed to be sorry for.

“for letting you down, mostly, i guess. for making the wrong choices every time. for not listening to you when i should have. for hurting you as much as i did–even though i might not have been able to do anything about it.”

despite everything, you found yourself shaking your hand. “we all make bad choices. i know i did. i tried to erase you completely from my life. rebuild a new one–one where you never were.” you shrugged awkwardly, only vaguely remarking you had subconsciously synced your swing’s rocking with his. “that was my big mistake. i should have cherished the memories i did have instead of pushing you away completely.”

his fingers twitched as if they were itching to grab yours. you knew yours were. “i would probably have done the same.” you knew it was true.

it was nice to just enjoy each other’s presence for a while, rocking on your swings and keeping your thoughts to yourself. you slowly let yourself grow used to his presence again, thought the fear–that one day you’d wake up and find him gone again, and that you wouldn’t be able to handle it–remained.

when the sun started to dip behind the houses, and you stood up to leave, he called after you. “y/n?” you turned, shoulders tense. “you’re the only good choice i’ve ever made.”

–

why were you crying? you had no reason to be crying, but before your muddy mind could comprehend what you were doing you’d picked up the phone and dialled Matt’s number with shaky fingers. maybe just hearing his voice would be enough to calm the nerves rolling in painful waves inside you. a mere second after he picked up, Matt said, “i’m on my way.”

you’d crashed into his arms the second he crossed your doorstep, and you cursed yourself for being so weak. but without a moment of hesitation he’d wrapped his arms around you, and he was stroking your back the way he used to do when you’d get upset. you had half a mind to collapse to the floor, but managed to keep that small amount of control to yourself. 

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” he mumbled. you drank the words up eagerly, willing them true. “everything’s fine.”

it was. everything was fine. “i don’t ever want to feel this way again. i don’t want to have to be told that you’re gone again only for you to show up years later.” you took a shaky breath; your voice broke. “i don’t want to lose you again.”

he’d gotten taller. and more muscular. you felt them tense beneath your touch. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you looked up, and from his eyes shone nothing but truth. light brown, soft like caramel. the colour of every good thing in this world.

he kissed you, and with every second he held you in his arms you felt yourself learn to breathe again.

[eltanin-malfoy]

Too Late (Kill Or Be Killed V)

pairing : draco/fem-collegestudent!y/n 

word count : 3.9k

Chapter 1 2 3 4

warnings : swearing, sexual themes, mentions of rape/murder/drugging, angst (duh!), slight fluff

a/n : last part! i will most likely write up an epilogue in the future but.. not any time soon, sadly. (sorry for using the ugliest trope ever) thank you @unpeustupide for beta-ing!!!!!

Jesus Fucking Christ. 

Y/N had run her fingers down Draco’s arm slightly as they’d talked on her couch,and he’d thought that was the end of any sort of physical contact between them. 

But, oh boy, had he been wrong. 

He certainly hadn’t anticipated the night ending with a hand up under her shirt, rubbing at her bare back underneath it, as she squirmed on his lap, giggling at the rare moments their mouths didn’t attempt to devour one another, barely looking for a breath. 

He opened his eyes and looked into hers, the skin under her eyes crinkling the slightest bit as she smiled. He returned it but was quick to push their faces together again, bringing his other hand up and pressing it to her cheek. She let out the slightest sound, probably of surprise, and he took it as encouragement, sliding the tip of his tongue over the curve of her lower lip.

He could barely even recall the events that’d led them up to this point. It seemed as if she’d really just jumped into his arms (but had she? What had even gone down..?). Thoughts weren’t exactly coming to him clearly, what with all his blood rushing to..well. She couldn’t possibly be drugged again, could she? 

No, of course not. I’ve been with her ever since.

But I suppose.. it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

He pulled away from her and brought his hand to her jaw, holding her face in place. He gazed into her eyes intently, they seemed to hold the furthest stars on the sky and the deepest depths of the ocean in them.. No. Focus, Draco. He checked to see if they were unusually red or dilated or.. something else entirely.

 Well, they were dilated. But then again, probably so were his.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could… everything faded to black.

His eyes were open but it really was dark. Wherever he was. He attempted to bring his hands to his eyes, to rub at them sleepily and try to clear up whatever sort of darkness there was in front of him. No it was a blindfold, given his face felt rather numb, but nothing could ever be that dark.  He found his arms restrained, tied up. A bit more fidgeting informed him that practically all of his limbs were secured and that he was only really capable of wiggling his torso and his neck the slightest bit. He was sprawled over wooden chair and the back of his neck was aching, probably after having been there for a while. 

The slightest inkling of what might be happening suddenly popped up in Draco’s mind.

I certainly didn’t.. couldn’t have! I suppose for the right.. no! I don’t remember talking about anything to do with something like.. this. Didn’t think she’d be into S & M like this, frankly. Did she drug me this time and then..tie me up..? Could she have done that to me? No! NO!

He started to struggle and then, to his relief, he felt his jeans rub against his thighs, he was still fully clothed and nothing really felt too.. sore, well, not unless you counted what was certainly beginning to stir between his legs. Goddammit. Fucking… wait.

Did that even happen? The kissing? The feeling up? The.. everything?

Draco attempted to run through the evening’s events. He’d gone to work, droned through a shift, encountered his worst nightmare, agreed to spend some time with her after his shift, been caught off guard by her actually being.. nice, for once, had some drinks and then… he’d..

He’d obviously gotten too hammered, made out with her and then agreed to something he definitely wouldn’t have otherwise, had he been sober.  

Or.. perhaps not. It just seemed too odd. He really did dream up everything like that with her. And this was some sort of nasty old prank.

“Y/N? Are you.. there?” He finally worked up the courage to call out to her. His voice sounded raspier than normal, and it was only then that he realised that his throat was parched. And that his stomach felt worryingly too empty. 

She couldn’t have.. tied me up and gone off to do something else, right? 

SHE HASN’T LEFT ME SOMEWHERE NO ONE ELSE COULD EVER FIND ME, RIGHT?

“Y/N!?” He almost yelled out, trying his absolute hardest to tug his wrists away from the arms of the chair, but to no avail. 

“Yes!” He finally heard her reply. “Coming.” She sounded weirdly relaxed. Was this something she got up to often? Tying partners up in her house?

Is this why her and Cormac broke up..? Now was he her partner?

What am I doing?

The sound of her footsteps grew louder and he could hear that she’d drawn closer. It was so quiet but he could feel her breath quiver on his lips. He was burning up. . He was about to open his mouth and ask her to please, please help him out of whatever this was and tell him what happened last night.. But Y/N suddenly chose to laugh, quite loudly too.

“Wha-” Of course. She’d seen it. The very painful thing making its presence known only now. His legs were obviously bound such that it was… agonizingly obvious through his jeans. His legs secured to either leg of the chair presented ample view that too. FUCK.

His face heated up almost instantly and he oh, so desperately wanted to cross his legs. He suddenly ran through the thoughts that tended to force any heat out of his mind. Soccer plays from the last decade.. cute pugs..  maybe if he thought of recent disasters..

But it was no good. She kept fighting her way back in. She was the fucking plague. Her piercing gaze. Her soft lips, her figure that slipped perfectly into his arms when she sat on him. A jigsaw piece to fit perfectly into him.

Of course, he had a jigsaw piece he so wanted to fit into her.

So badly.

He should be ashamed. He is completely off-task. Some Malfoy he is. But he just doesn’t fucking care. She’s what he wants to do, his new mission. Maybe, perhaps, just possibly : he was in love with her. Perhaps the stalking and the loathing had been some sort of cover for his actual feelings. And now, he felt dizzy, hot - 

“Hush.” She finally said, presumably inching closer to him. “Let me.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself (hopefully, very, very hopefully) for the sound of the girl in front of him getting on her knees in front of him, or perhaps the feeling of her body heat against him. Hey, maybe she’d even take some mercy on him and move into his lap, writhe against what longed to be touched, kiss him while he still had the blindfold on, bite his lip and tug at his hair in the animalistic manner he so desired. 

Or at least, he expected to hear the clatter of his stupid belt buckle as she undid it.

But that isn’t what happened at all.

Instead, he felt her hands delicately reach around his head and untie the blindfold which was tight round his face. He kept his eyes shut, bracing himself for the sunlight probably flashing into the room, as well as what the girl in front him was likely wearing.

I wonder.. 

He normally would have gone ahead and been more snarky. Would have asked her what she was wearing before he even came close to taking a glimpse. But no. 

Today, he was too desperate.

He opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of Y/N grinning down at him, hair slightly messy while she wore a very appealing.. little, black dress.

Oh, how his dreams were all coming true.

He let his eyes trail down her figure… she hadn’t left a lot for him to imagine for himself, oh thank you, Jesus. God knew what she had on underneath it. Maybe, just maybe, she had a matching pair of lingerie. Maybe he would tease her, just a little bit. Give her a little smug ‘All for me?’ or something along those lines.

The ties on his limbs were far too restrictive for him to peel it off of her himself.. but it would be quite fun to watch her stri- 

“So you were thinking about me, Draco? In your dreams, I mean?” She started again and his eyes darted to her face. She lifted her hand slightly and Draco almost drew back in fear at what he saw.

A knife gleamed in her fist. 

He stared up at her, incredibly afraid. Was this the sort of thing she was really into? If so.. even Draco had his limits.

She began to laugh again, wrinkling her nose adorably. “Settle down.. I’m not going to use this on you. Not unless you force me to, darling.” 

Draco could only really ponder over what the hell she meant by that. He could soon feel the aching between his legs basically shrinking as he kept his eyes on the knife.

“So.. I didn’t know you were into BDSM.” “I’m not! And.. what do you mean by that..? You must be into this.. Right?” 

“I’d think you should’ve been a little bit more scared about this if you aren’t into it. Pretty out of context otherwise, you know.” She squinted down at him.

“But um.. last night? Didn’t we-?” “No, Draco. You passed out while we were talking..and, so I took it upon myself to.. you know.”

Draco found himself dumbfounded. So.. it really was a dream. It was frankly, far too vivid-

“So, I was right. You actually are into me and everything.”

“If you want to put it so bluntly, yes, I suppose I am.”

“So.. that’s why you were stalking me and everything? Wanted a piece of me all along, did you?” “What? No!” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me. Did you want revenge or something?”

“What the- No! What are you even talking about?”

“I’m not that stupid, Draco. Tell me why you were after me.”

“What the fuck? How do y- I don’t know!”

“Oh come on, so you.. wanted to rape me or something? As revenge?”

“No! No! Of course not! What are you even talking about? Do you think it was me who drugged you? Because it wasn’t!” 

“I know.. but.. stop that!” She crossed her arms, taking care to hold the knife out a little more.

“Stop what..?” His voice grew shaky with anxiety.

“Stop lying to me, Malfoy! I know you know everything.”

“I don’t! How do you.. How do you even know my last name? I know for a fact I never told you what it was.”

“The little bit of research I did was enough for me to find out about your parents. ’Draco’ is not a common name, like, at all. It’s quite funny, actually. Why would anyone name their child ‘dragon’?”

“It’s a reference to the constellation! In my mum’s famil-”

“Do you really think I care?” She huffed, glaring at him even more. “Even at the hospital, I saw.. those syringes in your jacket. Tell me what those were about. Are you some sort of addict?”

“Just.. let me out of this so I can explain myself.” “I would never. You’ll do it now or I’ll take a leaf out my.. my father’s book and make sure you never see the light of day again.”

“A-alright..” He looked nervously at the knife and then back at her face, gulping audibly. “So what do you want from me?”

“The truth”, She knelt, looking him in the eye.

“So-so.. I.. I might have just.. kindofplannedonmurderingyou.” He looked to the side, focusing on a very interesting patch of the wall.

“What?”

“I might have planned on.. murdering you. But.. I swear.. after that night at the hospital, I knew I could never.”

She exhaled loudly. “I knew it! I knew you had some sort of ulterior motive.. so it is because you wanted revenge? Or because you needed to get those drugs of yours?”

“No! You have it all wr-” He exclaimed but fell silent as that devilish look in her eyes grew again.

She stepped closer to him and held the knife dangerously close to his face. Her eyes were scarily wide and she grit her teeth. Draco felt goosebumps rising all over his skin and sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He definitely didn’t look as put together as he did when he set out for work the night before.

“I swear to god. Do not make me use this on you already.”. She took a deep breath. “All this time you’ve confused the hell out of me. I was trying to figure out how to get you to my place at first. You aren’t exactly easy to carry.. so I flirted with you a little, then made you come over to mine, which you did way too happily, by the way. So, I decided to slip you a date rape drug and see how you’d like it!”

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you-” “Again, because I knew you wanted revenge! And now that I know you know about me.. I can’t possibly let you out of here alive, now can I?”

Draco fell silent again, knowing his time was very much over. He was going to have to confess and then .. face the consequences. Was there anything he could do at this point? She was absolutely going to end all of this. Suddenly, everything flashed before his eyes.

His parents, still in prison, learning about him going missing. Wouldn’t they be devastated? All his old friends, wouldn’t they feel awful about leaving him all by himself once he lost fortune?  Even fucking Weasley! He bet that tosser would cry about it. Or maybe not. Hard to tell. 

“I d-didn’t want revenge. I don’t know why I would. It’s true that I tried to learn more about you..and I might have attempted to stalk you. But it didn’t work out very well. Obviously. I was genuinely just cu-curious about murder. I swear. I did-”

“How can you be curious about murder?”

“I know.. I seriously wasn’t thinking. I was basically quite interested with this one serial killer. You might have heard of him.. um.. Richard Hoyt.” 

She rolled her eyes and looked at him sternly. “Now you’re seriously just mocking me.”

“No.. I… what do you even mean?”

“You know.” “I don’t! I’ve told you so many times, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He is.. well, was my father. I have no control over it, so I really don’t appreciate your teasing.”

What..? Now, she had to be joking. 

He forced out a nervous laugh but Y/N merely squinted back at him, and so he stopped. 

“That can’t be true, can it?”

“And why not?”

“Your surname isn’t.. Hoyt. And you look nothing like him.” He certainly wasn’t as beguiling. “Well, obviously I wouldn’t keep my serial killer father’s name, would I? It’s my mum’s. She had to change it after he was convicted. And, that’s just pure genetic luck, really.”

“So your mum and.. him. Seriously.”

Draco had no idea what to say and just stared up at her in silence. This was way too much information for him to process at once. How was he supposed to devise a plot for himself to escape? It certainly was game over for him.. but maybe.. just maybe.. If he could buy himself some time.

“So.. you’re going to kill me?”

“As far as I can see, yes, I am.” “But you can’t.”

“And why is that?” “I-I have a family. And… friends. And a job. They’ll all know I went missing.”

“You aren’t close to any loved ones, I know that. As for your job.. I doubt they care much about cashiers who stop showing up.”

Shit.

“I… I can’t die like this, Y/N, please.”

“What do you mean?”

“I.. can’t die like this. I.. wanted more from life. I wanted to finish my Chemistry degree. Get married. Have a family.” “Oh please.. Don’t give me that mushy stuff. You came very close to killing me. Or at least to attempting to kill me. None of that came back to you then?”

Fuck. 

“You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did.”

She actually looked nervous at that. Maybe.. he did have a chance.

“If.. you let me go now, I won’t tell anybody anything. I swear. We can just pretend this never happened.” “Oh, please. I.. I’m not that simple.” “Come on, Y/N, please. Have you actually ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then.. then.. just.. don’t.. not tied up like this. At least give me that.”

“How.. can I?”

“Just.. just.. untie my arms. Please.”

He coaxed himself to grow a bit teary. The images of his own mother growing sad at his demise helped a lot. To his surprise (which he did his best to conceal), Y/N’s expression softened. Considerably. Maybe, to some very slight extent, Y/N returned his feelings. But of course, that didn’t matter at the moment. Not when she was ready to kill him. 

“O-okay. But you can’t try anything.” 

She leaned over slightly and set her hands on right wrist, slowly untying the material around it. Draco’s eyes lay on her and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Was she really going to kill him? Or at least, would she try to? For now, maybe he should treasure these last few moments. He’d never felt this intensely about anything, it seemed. Even if he did make it out alive, would he be able to just.. accept everything? How.. she had tried to kill him?

Her fingertips brushed against his skin as she went along, and Draco relished every little touch. She removed the ties around both his wrists and Draco lifted his forearms up slightly, then smiled at her. Somehow, she smiled back at him. He set his palms on her cheeks and she didn’t shift away. If only he could just.. 

“My.. my elbows too, please?”

“I..okay.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

She undid those ties as well and Draco lifted his arms up for the first time in many hours. He still sort of wanted to gather her up in them and pull her onto his lap.. But no. He needed to get out. 

“T-tell me.. “ “What?” “Tell me everything. I.. at least deserve that. If I don’t have much more to live for..” Draco crosses his arms, but only in a ruse to scope out how much more material he had to get rid of before he could wriggle free and run.

“Fine.. I guess I should. I didn’t think anything of you at first. By the Tesco and everything. I just thought you were some prick. But.. I saw you that night. At Cormac’s building. I genuinely couldn’t understand why you were even watching me at all. At first, I chalked it up to mere coincidence.. but.. then.. The next day. With the dog. 

“Was it even yours? I was so confused. Did you really think you could outsmart me with.. some cap and sunglasses? You truly are infuriating. I thought it was perhaps.. a relative or something at first. But you still looked too much like you and a bit of your hair poked out the back, so I knew it was definitely you. I can’t believe you acted like that. I still have no idea why you would have done that. That’s why I decided to look up your stupid name and left that stupid envelope in your mailbox.

“Then.. I saw that you were viewing my Instagram stories. That was when it started driving me up the wall. Did you think I couldn’t see or something? Your username isn’t exactly subtle, you know. I figured you were tracking my movements.. So I laid out a little trap. And you fell right into it. Came right to the pub and everything, all by yourself. You really are one hell of an amateur..

“Then, I had to go ahead and make that dumb mistake. I put the pill in your drink and took a sip from it myself. I can’t believe I was that daft.. “

“That was you?! You.. you did that to yourself? You meant that for me?”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare interrupt me.” Her voice was oddly shaky, and it had been growing shakier every second she had spoken.

But she didn’t even continue. She put the knife down, covered her face with her hands and began to shake slightly. Although he felt so very bad, like he just wanted to hold her, console her, never let her go.. This was the perfect time for an exit.

And so, he undid all the ties, anywhere he could find them, around his neck, around his chest, up and down his legs, everywhere. He kicked them all off and stood up, as softly as possible. And then … he froze. She was crying. He could hear it. Sniffles and everything.

He couldn’t leave. Not like this.

He took a deep breath and walked over to her, then turned her around. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes slightly pink near the rims. She looked up at him with her eyes wide. “Draco..? How did you-”

He couldn’t possibly let her continue, so he shut her up. With a kiss. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, just like he had in that stupid dream. 

Fuck. Her lips felt better than he ever imagined them to be. Soft and everything he could ever wish for. Actually returning his kiss. He tilted his head and brought their faces even closer, letting his tongue swipe at her bottom lip before she opened her mouth slightly and let him in. 

Oh, how badly he wanted to lose himself in the kiss. To just forget everything. To keep tasting the spearmint toothpaste the girl had used. To stay this close. To let his hands roam over her body. To finally see what was under that gorgeous dress. 

But no. Of course not. The universe wasn’t going to let him do that.

And so, he brought a hand to her neck and felt around until he found her jugular. And he did what he had to do. He pressed down on it. 

It was the perfect way to knock someone out. To be careful and just.. find their pulse point. And it worked just the way he wanted it to. She almost fell onto him, but he caught her. And he looked her over. Her adorable sleeping face. Just like in the hospital. 

For the last time. 

He set her down on the floor carefully, crossing her legs so no one could chance a peek. (Not even him! He was ready to wait. Perhaps this wasn’t the right time to think of something like that..) He even ran his hand through her hair so it looked a little more tame. He allowed himself one final glance at her lips.. 

But then, he knew what he had to do and he forced himself out of the room.

It wasn’t long before he found his way out and ran as fast as he could do to the nearest bus stop. But… he didn’t know what he was running from. Her, or whatever he could have had with her. 

Too late. 

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

Post Covid joyfulness; vole death; and why I love my Frida Cagnolino

Good morning dear reader(s),!.. indifferent universe, loving universe...

I hope you are very well this Tuesday. Things have been rather eventful since my opening post; yesterday I staked my row of snapdragons; planting sticks like crutches for them to lean on so they could bloom to their full potential, on Sunday I went to my FIRST OPEN AIR CAFE FOR THREE MONTHS!!! (that's a whole other story)  

This morning my daughter very nearly saved a vole’s life; she shook our murderous cat Laura down by the swing until she released the vole from its jaws before yelling at me through the kitchen door that she needed a Tupperware container IMMEDIATELY. We both kind of knew the vole wasn’t gonna make it; it was in full shock, quivering in the corner of the container, in that way that humans do after a car crash or some terrible news... the last energies go into the death shake - the ‘crossing over’ between life and death. However, vole didn’t give up without a final adventure - it escaped the container and dashed to the bathroom for one last foray in this world. Minutes later my daughter said; ‘I was wrong mama. He died. One minute I looked up and he was alive. And the next minute I looked up and he was dead.’ I resisted the temptation to say, ‘well, that's just life, kid!’ and instead told her she’d given him the best death a vole could ever ask for; passing away in a girls den along side her collection of Jacqueline Wilson books; if it hadn’t been for her interception he would have been de-bowelled; torn limb from limb, departing this earth is a chaos of blood and terror. ‘Can I bury him?’ she said. 

Vole is buried along with two of his brethren and a few mice down by the Camelia tree.   

However, the strangest thing that has happened since last waxing is that according to my daughter I said the words ‘Spicy Man’ in my sleep last night.....! Now that's funny. ‘Spicy Man’....!??????? Sometimes words fail. This is one of those times.                                                                                That's the gap where words fail. 

OK, so I promised you the story behind my background picture. Here it is in all its glory; it’s called ‘Frida Cagnolino’ - oil on Gesso - and was created by a lady called Kate Milson in 2015. 

I purchased it at the Battersea Affordable Arts Fair in April 2017. As with any creation there is the story of its creation and the story of its procurement; how it passes from the creator out into the world and lands, lovingly, into the hands of its receiver. And the story of how I came to buy a collage of the Virgin Mary with an owl on her head is quite something. 

First off, this original piece of art cost £1500. I want to be less of a twat about money Post Covid - there’s too much weirdness and shame attached to coins and notes - so there it is. I paid £1500 for this work - much more than I pay in a month’s rent now; far more than I could ever afford to pay for anything right now - but back then, in this other life, I was RICH BEYOND MY WILDEST DREAMS... I had come into a very large amount of money, having been furnished with half the assets of the sale of my father’s house following his death. In short; it was ‘sad money’; ‘dad’s money’ - and the story of ‘how I sp**ked my father’s inheritance up the wall on facials in exactly the same way he sp**ked his life away on a bullshit suburban life that he never believed in for one second’ is a whole other BLog post entirely. 

So anyway, at the Battersea Art Fair 2017 I have money to spend and I’m giddy on the freedom of it. That day I spend £2500 on three pieces of art. What’s interesting and highly significant is that I was also in a wheelchair that day; my beloved *David are *Boo are wheeling me around the various collections at Battersea Evolution Venue,  because, at that time, I was pretty much immobile due to having contracted six blood infections courtesy of some rank and highly illegal black mould in our basement Richmond flat. I was helpless; powerless; hopeless; but I had money to spend and it felt so damn good. I knew deep down that that I’d been corrupted entirely by my father’s fat wad; that I should be shelving it responsibly for my daughter’s college fund or some such; but screw that - I was gonna blow it on art.  And I could pretend I was an arts aficionado. I might not be able to walk 100m straight but I could converse with artists’ agents and immerse myself in astonishing beauty.   

And then it happened. I’m wheeling past a collection, about to turn down the next aisle, and all of a sudden Mother Mary catches my eye. I am drawn like electricity to this burst of read crazy colour, and a blue cloaked magnetic woman just looking at me... I instruct *David to put the brakes on and move towards this glorious work, basking in it for a while. I think I knew I was going to buy this thing from the very first second I laid eyes on it. I felt like Mona Lisa was looking into my soul but at the same time reminding me that life was a gas. 

Its largely a mystery as to why we’re drawn to particular objects. Why do I love this piece of art so? Let me count the ways. Well, it manages at once to be subversive, heretical, beautiful, chaotic, surprising, highly weird, spontaneous, and deeply joyful all at the same time. I love the singularity of ‘her’ - this figure; and I realise now that she represents this beautific mother figure - with infinite love, understanding and kindness - that I’ve been searching for my whole life. Even now as I look at the picture, hanging on the wall to the left of my bed, it’s her blue blue eyes I must meet first. I love her wild and free relationship to animals;  she has an owl on her head but manages to not only retain her dignity, but somehow embrace and be in partnership with this wild gesture. She’s composed, wholly and entirely a woman, but entirely humble and at one with nature and her environment. Somehow, even though she has inherent grace and a natural regality, she doesn’t stand on ceremony. This woman is all knowing; entirely free; a true punk. And I get to hang out with her every day.  

I love the unspoken bond between her and her beloved dog (a Bichon Frise?). ‘Cagnolino’ means ‘lapdog’ in Italian. They both challenge the viewer, inviting us to the party. I like to think the Post-Covid world we’re being asked to form is something akin to this; we have a chance now to choose punk joy and reverence to wild nature over stifling rules and dank conformity.

I love the fact that its a collage - bit and pieces from here and there brought together in one woman’s determined imagination.

 I love the way the brightest yellow surfinia bursts out of  pure blue sky of the most gentle hue, and how this sky in turn bursts out of the blood red streets of Venice; I love the way butterflies flitter all over the place. Perhaps most of all, I adore the purple crown sitting atop the dogs head - and how he wears it so well. 

I love the violent effrontery growingness of it. I love its revolutionary impulse. I love how it reminds me to be free and brave and enjoy the moment; and that when things get really hairy and scary, as they are prone to do from time to time, that there will always and forever be butterflies and surfinias throbbing into life, and if you’re really lucky, you might just get an owl landing on your head, bestowing upon you a scratchy blessing with its razor claws.  And I love the fact that I am the only person in the whole world who has this treasure.   

The artist Kate Milson wrote to me most generously days after I’d settled her art in my house. This piece, she told me,  was largely a collation of images from a bundle of old art magazines bought from a second hand book shop in Venice some years previous. The name Frida is a nod to Frida Kahlo - a woman who created art from a state of paralysis - having survived a near fatal bus accident in her youth. I like this nod to a woman who despite physical confinements, drenched herself in colour and beauty. 

She wrote that she recalled surfinia plants  in her garden when she was a child; how they ‘seemed tough, but once picked die almost immediately’ - and how there seemed to be ‘this combination of strength and fragility to everything in the natural world’. 

I like being reminded of this each morning; that being strong can come directly out of fragility - that they’re intertwined. 

So...there we have it. That’s how Frida came into my life, and actually, even though she felt very ‘costly’ at the time, and I was kind of basking in a wealth I knew couldn’t last, it is of great comfort that this piece will last through my lifetime and maybe beyond. And actually, considering all the hours that went into her making, considering that I may have, in my small way, contributed to an independent artist continuing her craft; and considering all the hours I’ve spent with Frida Cagnolino’s loving gaze  on me, well......she was worth every penny and much much more. 

[lindsaylouus]

Dear Lover,

A/N: This lil story was inspired by the Little Mix song, Dear Lover. If you haven’t heard it already, I really recommend it, such a beautiful song but it’s sad af! :( But, none-the-less, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Couple uses of strong language, alcohol consumption, sad and angsty times ahead.

Pain. Anger. Sadness. You were feeling all three at once, in a miserable cocktail. But the last thing you expected, was to see those feelings completely mirrored, in another broken soul.

‘I’ve seen some places, and so many faces. But you look like home tonight’

You walked into the bar, feeling jaded toward the world around you. This bad habit of coming to crowded, alcohol fuelled dives; with a mission of numbing as much pain as possible, was a regular occurrence for you recently. With liquor already laced on your lips, you wanted another drink, and you wanted to forget. 

You slipped between sweaty, faceless bodies. You’d seen so many of them these past few weeks. Blurred shadows passing through. They filled the place with heat. You made it to the bar and ordered a drink. Straight Vodka, yeah, that should do it. You knock it back, and order a second for good measure. You take your drink, and decide to head towards the shadows. Maybe one of them will show you a little attention, if they’d drunk enough, one usually did. It made you feel validated. Sad, isn’t it? But you did say you wanted to forget, and until you sobered up, it usually worked.

That’s when you saw him…

Despite the Vodka, you couldn’t help but see him. His heart was in pieces, just like yours. The air around him was mournful and dark. The longer you looked at him, the more you were drawn in.

He was sat at the bar, turning his almost empty glass of whisky round in circles. He stared down at it, eyes glazed over. Even you could tell that a face like his would usually radiate sunshine. That light had been extinguished by something, or someone. 

You did something you weren’t expecting to do that night. You walked toward a beautiful broken heart.

‘You crave attention, and I need affection. So let’s walk the silver line’

You brazenly placed yourself next to him, telling the bartender that you’ll have two of whatever he’s having. He darted a quick glance at you. Confused and curious. You took the leap and looked him in the eyes. Those sad eyes. They were guarded and so sadly serene, they almost moved you to tears. This guy didn’t deserve what he’d been through. 

The drinks were placed in front of you. After passing one to him, you couldn’t help but think of your intentions for the evening versus his. You thought maybe, they weren’t much different. He wanted someone. Someone to give him the love he so longed to give them. Were you kidding yourself? You got all this from just a moment’s gaze?

‘I’m sorry,’ he spoke out of the blue, taking you by surprise. His voice was like gravel, but with a hint of sweetness. He was still in there somewhere, he wasn’t completely lost.

‘May I ask what for?’ You were staring ahead now, taking a swig of your drink. 

‘I don’t want to give off the wrong impression. I’m not exactly in a social mood.’ He looked at you, his features already softening. He seemed exhausted.

‘Coming to a crowded bar on a Friday night just to be alone? Maybe we’re more alike than you think?’

You’re now looking at each other, both of you holding the gaze. He doesn’t seem 100% convinced, but he’s listening, so you might as well continue. 

‘You know, it’s funny. Thinking you have it all mapped out. Great job, nice apartment, the so called ‘soul mate’. You think that you’ve finally got it right, this is it, my life. Awesome. Then, one day, this person that you’ve planned all your hopes, dreams and your whole LIFE around, is gone. The one you could always trust, would never let you down. The one that made you feel like home, no matter where you were. They decide that, they don’t love you anymore. They think maybe, they might love, someone else now…’  

Before you can even think about crying, you gulp down the rest of your drink. Shit, this is strong. Thank God.

‘Well, fuck,’ is all your new friend could respond with. He was coming back piece, by tiny piece. He finishes his drink and orders two more.

When they arrive, after passing a glass to you, he raises his slightly. You mirror him.

‘To you needing these drinks as much as me.’ You physically can’t help the corners of your lips turning up into a smile, and you swear he does the same. How has this guy made you feel more human than any other person has in the last three weeks?

He didn’t have anything to add to your sorry story, but he listened. That was enough. You felt a bizarre sense of comfort. Despite the shell he was becoming, the connection of loneliness between the two of you was palpable. You desperately hoped you’d made him feel more human. You saw a scary amount of yourself in him. Could he see that too?

‘I’m incapable of saving your heart this time. But if you wanna, I’ll pretend to be your hero for just tonight’

The night descended into ruin. You both fell onto the bed of his apartment, a mess of long limbs in an alcohol induced catastrophe.

You looked at him, this time, really looked at him. His hair was jet black, his fringe just touching his dark lashes. His skin was smooth, a perfect porcelain. His fingers were long and gentle. They gracefully traced delicate lines all over you. His heart was heavy, but his body was like air, moving around you like the most natural element on Earth.

Your bodies were entwined, your breaths were heavy and the mood was desperate. You were loving each other the way you wished others’ had. He was so, so beautiful, but so damaged. Just like you. But you wanted to make him feel  like there was hope. There’s a sun out there that would shine on him again. For you, you weren’t so convinced.

You’d forgotten what it was like though, to kiss someone with that much want. You’d forgotten what it had been like to be touched that tenderly. Most importantly, you’d forgotten the past. Until morning…

‘You’ve been believing, there’s more to this feeling, and I swear I wish there was’

You woke up just before the Sun. You looked to your left, and saw a soul that was slightly less shattered than yesterday. He was sleeping so soundly. His breathing was shallow and peaceful. He looked so serene, like nothing in the world could be wrong. 

You had such a desperate urge to glide your fingertips over his cheek, kiss his forehead and curl back up against his chest. And, for a second, you really thought you were going to.

He’d asked you to stay with him last night. You knew it was a bad move, but you had to, you just had to. You were not going to dim the shine that had only just begun to flicker again. You were not going to break his heart. Not like they did. How could someone do that to him? As he’d started to fall asleep, he cradled you, keeping you close. After everything, he still had love to give. 

But you couldn’t stay, you couldn’t go through this again, you weren’t getting hurt anymore, no.

‘When the moment is over, we’ll walk away closer. Maybe that’s good enough’

It only took you ten minutes to slide out of the bed, put on last night’s clothes, grab your things and go. You had to do it quickly, or you’d change your mind.

Just as you reached his front door, you noticed some mail on the floor. Instinctively, you pick it up. You see the name it was addressed to, Minhyuk. Of course that name belonged to him. A name that means sensitive, bright and luminous. It was perfect for him. 

You suddenly realised what you were doing. You drop the mail where you found it, and leave. The cold, crisp morning air was more than sobering. You took a deep breath and forced your feet forward, beginning your journey home.

He woke up as sunlight started to trickle through the blinds. He felt the right side of the bed…nothing. Well, nothing but a piece of paper. He picked it up and brought it to his face.

They didn’t deserve you and neither do I, but know whenever I see the sun shine, I’ll think of you. Y/N

[jiminscaramel]

plateau | jungkook [bts]

[GENRE] angst

[COUNT] 3.5k

[PAIRING] Jungkook x fem. reader

[WARNINGS] unedited, implied sexual references

[AU] college, childhood friends, f2l, fwb

[A/N] hello all! This is part two of the extended drabble, apologies for it being late. I hope you enjoy!

⬸ drabble  ⡇⤑ part 1  ⡇⤑ part 2

You’d be lying if you said you don’t miss him. It’s a complete and utter lie, conjured up to nurse the fresh wounds left in his wake. But you don’t want to miss him. You don’t want to feel the ugly yearning you feel manifesting inside your chest, you don’t want to be plagued by the once fond memories in the dead of the night. You want nothing more than for things to go back to how they once were.

In the long hours you spend reflecting upon everything that had recently happened, you had, at some point, attempted to figure out why Jimin had been so quick to reject you, to dismiss so many years of friendship at the tip of a hat. Of course, things hadn’t always been rosy, but had his reaction been warranted? Was a complete break in proportion with the awkward albeit comfortable relationship?

In the months that follow, you carry around a shell of yourself, going through the motions required to get through the day, but not quite living. It’s in no way an easy feat, but you somehow manage to get through it, scraping by with little effort. You sometimes catch a glimpse of him in the hallways or across campus, and even worse, in your lectures. It’s a painful reminder of what had and what could’ve been.

He sits on his own, preferring solitude over his usual crowd, something you know Jimin has never done and it’s the only thing to indicate that things are amiss. He hadn’t called, messaged or even so much as looked at you after your miserable encounter, appearing to be getting along just fine. But you know him a lot better than he thinks.

You make no attempt to reach out this time, choosing to abstain from any sort of contact. Because he’d made his feelings quite clear and you’d be damned if you allowed yourself to chase after someone who valued you no more than the dirt on his shoe. And this, you think to yourself, is perhaps why Jimin is hurting so.

It starts as nothing; a polite smile in shared lectures, an acknowledged nod in the gym. But as creatures of habit and due the natural pull for companionship, you find yourself eventually engaging in small talk. You’re the one to approach him first, drawn in by his debonair persona and charming looks.

The weeks that follow see the both of you grow closer and it’s refreshing for you, to finally get close to someone again. And so the inevitable follows suit, your longing for warmth, to be held and to be touched and his willingness to give it all.

But things are so much different to how you once knew them. He doesn’t touch you the same, or utter the same hushed words you’re used to. His hips move to a different rhythm altogether and you sigh in pleasure at the challenge. His lips aren’t quite the same, plush and pouty, but they still ravish you in all the places you need.

And for once, you don’t feel guilty, you don’t feel this unexplainable hurt in your chest when he’s finally asleep and you’re left wide awake by his side. You feel alive. You’re left alone with your thoughts, the soft sound of his breathing threatening to pull you under too. But something unknown drives you to do something completely out of character.

You run.

You get hastily get dressed in the dark pulling on whatever you can find and slip out of the dorm unnoticed. You breathe a sigh of relief and wind down the silent corridors and out onto the freezing grounds of campus, making a beeline for your apartment off grounds.

You know the minute he wakes up, that he’ll get the wrong idea, but that’s a problem for another day.

You avoid the gym and arrive to lectures early to grab a seat in the most covert area all to avoid the confrontation that is sure to follow. But it seems this morning isn’t in your favour. You wake up late, skipping breakfast altogether and throwing on whatever you can find. You curse the short commute you have to make to college, silently wishing you had a room on campus, but it doesn’t change the fact you’re still a blinding half hour late.

You slip in as quietly as possible and apologise profusely as you take a seat at the front, flustered and red-faced. You struggle to concentrate throuought the whole lesson, your thoughts wandering to the nearest food outlet to pacify the rumbling in your stomach.

You manage to copy some notes from the girl sat next to you, thanking her with a shy smile. Eventually, the lecture is over and you head straight for the door, desperate to fuel your body with some sort of lunch, but a hand tugs at your forearm, gently coaxing you to the side.

“Hey,” he smiles sheepishly and quickly withdraws his hand, afraid of being too forward.

You feel your cheeks aflame and your mouth run dry, your voice getting trapped in your throat. The levels of embarrassment rising within you are too much to bear and you mumble a poor excuse about needing to catch a bus somewhere. Anywhere but here.

“O-oh,” Jungkook stutters also, clearly flustered by your response. “I... uh, I just wanted to know how you were. You left and didn’t leave a note and I didn’t have your number–” he stops short as he realises. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No!” You blurt out, a little too forceful to be believable. You clear your throat and try again. “No. I haven’t. I’ve– just been busy...” You cringe at how awful it sounds, the excuse reminding you of Jimin’s.

“It’s ok, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” He says softly, carding a hand nervously through his hair. He nods towards you and his eyes sparkle in amusement. “I’ve been looking for that.”

You look down at your chest, confused to say the least, slow to catch on. In your haste to get dressed this morning you’d thrown on anything, anything being Jungkook’s hoodie you must’ve mistakenly picked up from his bedroom floor the other night. “Oh– god– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– I mean, I must’ve picked it up by mistake. I got dressed in the dark–”

He laughs, a kind sound that fills you with warmth and eases your nerves. You don’t feel ridiculed, rather comforted. “It’s ok,” he says again with an easy shrug of the shoulders. “Keep it, it suits you.” He stands there awkwardly, as if he wants to say more but can’t bring himself to speak.

“Let’s get lunch.” You blurt out again, your mouth a thousand miles ahead of your brain, acting on its own accord.

His round eyes widen in surprise at your offer, eyebrows raised in subtle question. He looks as if he’s about to say no, that he’s too busy and you steel your heart for yet another rejection. But he surprises you. “Sure.”

“My way of apology. For leaving so suddenly.” Though that’s not the complete truth. In fact, you enjoy the time you’d spent with Jungkook. It was easy, laidback and he never expected anything in return. He was happy to chitchat on the treadmills and share notes in class and say hello in passing, never forcing you to commit to anything you didn’t want to.

And even though the night you’d spent together had been pleasant, you never expected a follow up. You never expected him to seek you out to see how you were doing, to make sure you were ok and so his caring nature reels you in further, chasing the nurture you so crave. The nurture Jimin had failed to provide.

Your phone buzzes incessantly, vibrating closer and closer to the edge of the table with every ring. You know who it is without having to look, quickly declining the call and placing your phone back facedown.

You settle back on the couch, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning your head against Jungkook’s shoulder, trying to focus on the movie. But a little nagging voice at the back of your head doesn’t let you off so easy. You drift off, deep in thought, while the the sounds of the film mute into a quiet soundtrack to accompany the things plaguing your mind.

You should tell him about Jimin.

It’s the same phrase that’s been rattling inside your mind for weeks but your counter argument is that telling Jungkook would mean making the two of you official and somewhere, deep inside your heart, that frightens you. It terrifies you to the core because what if things don’t work out? What if Jungkook reacts badly to finding about Jimin? What if you lose something dear to you, again?

You kid yourself into thinking that living in the moment will be enough, that living just for today and tomorrow will suffice, but you know it’ll all implode any time soon. The question is: when?

Your phone sporadically buzzes now, signalling incoming messages.

“You seem to be popular today,” Jungkook jokes lightheartedly, eyes glued to the action on the screen.

“Yeah,” You murmur absentmindedly, reaching over to turn your phone off. But you catch a glimpse of the messages on your screen, your face dropping and limbs freezing as you read them.

Call me

Please

I just want to talk

I’m sorry

I miss u

You stare at those three words for what feels like eternity, a silent rage manifesting in your chest and spreading like wildfire through your veins. You resist the urge to reply, even to retort in anger and your clammy hand squeezes the little device until your palms turn red.

You wonder what possibly goes through Jimin’s head, for him to treat you in such a way and to go back on it as if things were ever that simple. How dare he? Your rage boils over into hurt and morphs in complete sadness, washing away any good left in you. Your throat constricts as you try to swallow the ball in your throat but the tears in your eyes silently fall and it takes a minute before Jungkook notices something is wrong.

He blinks in surprise and jumps back, somehow wondering if he’s to blame for your tears. He stops the movie and starts to panic, frantically asking if you’re ok while also trying not to be too forceful. He grabs tissues and places them within reach and fusses in your little kitchenette while trying to make you a hot drink.

And while all of these things should make you feel better, they only serve to make you feel worse. Because you don’t deserve such kindness, how could you possibly?

He settles beside you again, placing the drinks on the table to cool down and tries to find out what’s eating away at you. “Is... is it me?” He asks hesitantly, afraid of your answer. “I can go, if you want, if you need space. I don’t mind–”

You shake your head no. “It’s not you.” You bring your head up and force yourself to look into his eyes, those kind and careful eyes that have never regarded you with anything but tenderness and decide that he at least deserves some sort of honest closure. “I promise. It’s not you.”

His face relaxes with relief, but worry still shimmers in his eyes and paints lines across his forehead that aren’t usually there. He wants to pry and find out but he doesn’t want to pressure you and so he struggles in finding the right balance. “We don’t have to talk about it, but maybe I can help?”

You wish he could. You wish he could just make it all go away. Not just the incessant messages and constant pleas, but the feelings too, the heaviness that seems to sit on your shoulders wherever you go. And perhaps he can, if you allow it, perhaps he can make all of it disappear. But you’re not yet willing to let yourself go and hand over your heart over to someone else, not without repairing it first.

“It’s not that simple,” you clench your jaw as your phone starts ringing again, but you ignore it this time.

From the corner of your eye you see him nod, but you’d be a fool to think Jungkook doesn’t know what’s going on, or at least have some idea. Yet he still doesn’t push and for that you’re grateful. But it only enforces the idea that you don’t deserve his kindness.

He leans forward and places a hand on your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw, and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into his touch, savouring the way his lips feel against your skin. You sigh as he wipes your tears and for a moment, you feel ok. You feel like things aren’t as bad as they seem and that, with Jungkook’s support, things will get better.

“Whenever you’re ready. You can come to me whenever.” He mutters into your hair, pulling away and observing your face, eyes flitting around to try and find any negativity. His hand falls away but you grab it, holding his walm palm in between your cold ones.

“Thank you.” You whisper simply, hoping that it conveys the weight and absolute sincerity you feel. But you decide it isn’t enough and this time, it’s you who leans forward, eyes fluttering closed to seal your gratitude.

Your hand intertwines with his, holding on tight as your lips collide with his in an amorous kiss. Your lips mould together perfectly with his, moving in excellent sync to the melody of your heartbeats. Neither of you lead, instead finding a harmonious balance, the perfect push and pull. He doesn’t taste of anything in particular, contrary to all the books and stories you’ve read, but rather he tastes of home, comforting and familiar.

Your tongue traces the luscious swell of his lip, drinking in every emotion and feeling that pours out from him. It’s intoxicating but you can’t get enough, your heart racing to pump the endorphins to every part of your body. His hands snakes up to your neck again, finding purchase at the back of your head and he pulls you back on top of him as he leans back into the couch.

You sigh into his mouth at the shift of position and settle comfortably on his waist, your lips not once leaving his. His hands are searing hot, leaving behind a blazing trail of excitement on your skin as they roam around, exploring your body more carefully and with more attention than the last time.

You’re completely lost in him and his touch, the way he handles you so gently, as if you’re the most delicate being he’s every come across. And so the tears that fall this time, that run into your mouths coating them with a bitter flavour, aren’t out of sadness; they aren’t because you don’t understand, not because you’re hurting. But because you’re happy. And although it’s still early, too early to tell just how serious Jungkook may be, it’s enough.

The movie is long forgotten, drinks long abandoned and the only sounds that can be heard in your small apartment are those of pleasure and content. Your phone buzzes again with an incoming call, violently vibrating until it falls off the edge of the table, finally muted by the carpet.

You’d spent a lot of time with Jungkook, getting to know him, his hobbies and habits but you rarely have time to spend much leisure time with him, always meeting up to silently encourage each other while studying. Just having him in the room, you find, helps immensely and helps you concentrate, although it does sometimes take a monstrous amount of self control to keep your eyes – and hands – off him.

You’d also done an excellent job of avoiding Jimin, though whether it’s down to your own skill or his, you don’t know. You don’t often see him in lectures anymore and so it surprises you when you walk in early one afternoon to find him seated in his usual spot, looking a little skittish.

You make your way up to the back, as far away from him as possible, although Jungkook doesn’t seem to be around. The lesson drags on and on but you take ample notes, filling your notebook and laptop with countless doodles and bulletpoints. You manage to find him after the lecture is over, struggling to balance all his books in one hand while opening his bag with the other. You chuckle under your breath before going to help him and he places a kiss on your cheek as a thanks.

“I may or may have not fallen asleep for the most of this lecture,” he admits as he holds the door open on your way out. “Somehow my books are more comfortable than my mattress.” He grimaces and you can faintly see tired bags under his eyes.

You sigh and shake your head. “My place is always another option, I’ve told you countless times.”

“Yeah, but,” a dusting of pink colours his cheeks and he stutters, trying to politely decline. “I-I don’t want to intrude–”

“It’s not an intrusion if I invite you, Jungkook–”

“And your room is too stuffy.” He finishes quickly.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you laugh along with him, the topic of discussion shifting to decide on somewhere to eat.

The town centre is small, but big enough to make you feel like you haven’t visited every outlet twice. You mill around for the better half of an hour choosing on a restaurant before settling in a quiet Chinese establishment, humbly nested in between two chain stores.

Halfway through the meal Jungkook excuses himself from the table to use the bathroom and you’re left alone for a while. He quickly returns and without looking you continue to eat, smiling as you joke, “Did you get lost or something?”

“No.” But it isn’t Jungkook.

You get the shock of your life and a complete loss of appetite when an unwelcome figure appears and seats itself opposite you. You’d forever recognise that voice. You look up, cheeks full of food, to discover Jimin in his place.

Your limbs feel weighed down by dread and your heart races in the worst way, preparing for the worst that could come.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

“I work here,” he says simply and for the first time since his surprise arrival you notice his apron and work slacks, decorated with countless stains.

“What do you want?” You try your best to remain neutral and borderline civil, but your heart starts to pang and sings a familiar song of longing. It’d had been so long – too long – since you’d seen him this close and to not reach out for him feels wrong. But things had changed.

“I just... wanted to talk. You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

“Just goes to show, two can play at that game, Jimin.” You set your cutlery down and push your bowl aside, acid burning in your throat with the threat of digested food.

“I know you’re mad–”

“Mad? You think I’m mad?” You lean in forward and lower your voice for him to hear, hissing each word to enunciate your pain. “I’m livid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” you tug your coat on in a haste to leave, desperate for Jungkook to come back. “I’m sorry I ever gave you the time of day.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jimin reaches forward to try and take your hand in his but you flinch away, repulsed by his presence alone.

“I’ve never meant anything more. We’re done. Whatever it is we had, it’s finished.”

“Please, just listen. I know I hurt you, but what I did – what I said – it was a fucking mistake. I was just– scared...”

“To hurt me, Jimin, you would have to mean something to me.” You interrupt his poor excuse of an apology, anger oozing out from every pore.

“You mean something to me.” He says quietly.

“I’d hate to see how you treat those who mean nothing to you then.”

“Please,” he begs. “I miss you.” And something within him does sound broken, the slightest hint of sincerity lingering in the depths of his pleas. Looking closer you see he looks tired, exhausted even, eyes baggy and red, hair dishevelled and untidy; though it doesn’t exactly make him ugly – he has his personality for that.

Yes, he may miss you and you undeniably miss him but it’s just a feeling. A consequence of his actions that will, in time, disappear. Missing him means nothing if he isn’t willing to change or at least understand the severity of what he had done.

“You miss me warming your sheets.” You correct him, clenching your jaw and forcing yourself to hold it together. “Your apology isn’t accepted but it’s nice to see you grew a pair since the last time we talked.”

Jimin doesn't know what to make of your sudden attitude and your refusal to to accept his cowardly behaviour. His eyebrows raise in shock, lips pursed in a disappointed moue. “What can I do to make it up to you? What do you want me to do?”

You shake your head and laugh bitterly, astonished yourself at his blasé and dismissive behaviour. He really believes a simple act of kindness will fix everything? That you could simply kiss and make up and get over it? His failure to acknowledge the gravity of the situation only infuriates you more and you’re too blinded by rage to give a comprenhensive answer.

You spot Jungkook’s tuft of hair behind Jimin and stand up with your things in hand, ready to run the second he arrives. “Oh, I didn’t know you invited a friend.” He smiles at Jimin and introduces himself before eyeing your stance in question.

“We’re not friends.” You say flatly, staring Jimin dead in his eyes. “He was just asking about our meal.”

“Oh.” But Jungkook senses the tension in the air, trying to make sense of why you’re so on edge., but doesn’t question it further. “Are you leaving?”

You nod apologetically, offering a poor excuse of a forgotten errand you must run before the end of the day. But before you go you turn to Jimin, making sure you have the final say and making sure that he knows exactly where the two of you stand. You lean down a little closer, forcing the ball of hurt down your throat at the painful memory, and utter the same words that had once served to beak your heart.

“I think you should go and get on with things. Like I am. And stop dwelling on something you never had.”

[minedcrafts]

Begin Again

Words: 2k

Despite the date, this is not a joke fic, just a short story starring Cleo.

---

Cleo was excited to join hermitcraft once again for season 5. Dreams of the lands she’ll discover, the structure’s she’ll build, and the adventures she’ll have filled her mind as she set out. She had joined slightly behind schedule, meaning she missed seeing her friends and meeting the new hermits. She wondered what newbies were like as she left the spawn island by boat.

After collecting some sunflowers that were on an island she passed by, Cleo reached the mainland. She soon found a desert temple and claimed it as her own. After carefully looting the place so as not to make the whole structure explode, she returned to the desert outside. She basked in the warmth of the setting sun, simply happy to be where she was.

Completely lost in her thoughts of what to do next, she didn’t notice the hissing sound coming from behind her until it was too late. The explosion knocked her off her feet and sent her face first into the sandy terrain. Having not gained any armor yet, she was already almost dead from the one attack. Zombies soon spawned near her as she tried to get up, but found she lacked the energy. Muttering under her breath in frustration, she bitterly accepted defeat as the zombies closed in on her.

---

Cleo slowly creaked open her eyes. She was laying on her back, but instead of the starry night sky she was expecting to see, all that was in front of her was darkness. When she moved her arms, she realised that she was inside of...something, and that she had very little room to move.

Thankfully, most blocks are not difficult to break in minecraft, seeing as you can tear down a tree with your bare hands. By hitting the dark block was in front of her head, it soon broke, giving her room to sit up. Above her was dirt, which lead her to wonder why she spawned in what she assumed was a small cave. She had originally thought that someone was pranking her by covering the spawn point, but digging out a few more blocks revealed that she was definitely underground.

Creating a makeshift stairway in the dirt, she soon reached the surface. What she saw greatly confused her. Instead of the spawn island, she appeared to be on the edge of a community area. It wasn’t very big, only a few building filled the space, and some of them still looked incomplete.

She took a couple steps forward, but soon stopped. Something felt wrong with, well, everything. It wasn’t painful, per say, just… strange. She looked downward at her body, and almost immediately recoiled in reaction to what she saw. Her skin was no longer light peach in color; It was now a pale green. Her favorite top was ripped in multiple places, and a bit of her ribcage was showing on the right side of her stomach. She stared in shock at her hands for many moments, completely bewildered by her sudden transformation.

The sun rose behind her as she forced herself to focus. Okay, so she was a zombie now. How did that happen? She was killed by zombies, but many others have died the same way and respawned like normal. Nothing about her fate seemed that special… other than that it was her first death of the season. Maybe that was it, perhaps there was an error with the server that caused this.

It was her best theory for now, so she tried taking a few more steps forward. She was still able to move just fine, the issue was that her entire body felt odd. It felt as if she was inside of an almost perfect replica of herself. So far though, it wasn’t all that bad. She wasn’t in any pain, all her memories were intact, and the rising sun wasn’t setting her on fire. There were other non-humans on the server after all, so maybe all she needed was some time to get used to her new form. Maybe. Time will tell, she supposed.

Slowly but surely, she made her way into the middle of the community area. On closer inspection, the area seemed to actually be a shopping district. There weren't a lot of shops yet, so she probably hasn’t been gone for much longer than a week. She decided that she should probably hurry and find the nearest person before she worries the others with her disappearance any more.

The sound of a sword being drawn caused her to whirl around. She found herself facing none other than Joe, her old friend, who had invited her to hermitcraft in the first place. For the first instant she was looking at him, he had a small frown on his face, and looked like he was about to charge at her. However, once he had a moment to look at her, his eyes widened in shock.

“C-Cleo!?”

“Oh! H-hey Joe…” Cleo stuttered, suddenly made painfully aware of her new appearance again. She glanced away to the side, the continued. “I don’t really understand it either, but-”

Cleo was abruptly cut off by the sound of a sword clattering to the ground and the force from Joe running up and wrapping her into a hug. “Cleo! It’s you! It’s- It’s really you!”

She gladly returned the hug, but was a bit confused by Joe’s tone and choice of words. “I know I’m a zombie now, but you make it seem like... like…” Cleo couldn’t help but trail off when she heard the soft sobs coming from her friend.

“You… We- we thought that you… We found your body, Cleo! You weren’t respawning- We didn’t know… You’ve been gone for a whole season, I... we all missed you so much, Cleo...”

Cleo stared at Joe as she processed what he said, and a realization soon dawned on her. That small cave she thought she respawned in was actually a coffin. She hugged Joe tighter as reality set in. “Oh god, I’ve been gone a whole season!? You all must’ve been so worried, I’m so sorry…”

---

It took a few minutes, but the two of them eventually calmed down. Joe moved back slightly and looked up at Cleo. “How… how did you even come back?”

Cleo scratched the back of her head. “I have no clue about the whole zombie thing, but I came to right over...there.” She pointed to where she had dug her way out of her own coffin. “Should we check it out?” With a small nod from Joe, the pair made their way over, Joe helping Cleo to walk faster.

When they reached the hole, Joe went down into it for a moment, then quickly came back up. “That’s definitely the coffin we put you in. How did it end up here, though?” They stood in silence for a few moments, until Joe spoke up again. “Y’know, at the end of season 5, some friends we hadn’t seen in a while showed up at the portal to this season even though we didn’t notify them. Maybe something similar happened to you which automatically brought you here.”

Cleo shrugged. “None of my ideas are any better, so let’s go with that.”

Joe chuckled as a small smile appeared on his face. He turned and started to head back to the shopping district. “We should probably notify the others that you’re back now.”

---

Joe sent out a message that asked the hermits to come to the shopping district. Cleo was a bit nervous about the other’s reactions to her new form, but these fears were shoved away when they started to show up. While shocked at first, all the hermits she had met before were ecstatic when they saw her. Many hugs were given and tears were shed as they reunited with their once lost friend.

Among the people that showed up, there were three that Cleo didn’t recognise. The first two were Zedaph and Stress, who were the hermits that she never got the chance to meet when they joined in season 5. They talked to her about what happened after she died. Apparently, the hermits had tried many ways to revive her, including various mixtures of potions, beacon effects, and even loading a backup of the server, but nothing ever worked. While Cleo was sad that she caused them all to worry so much, it also warmed her now still heart that they tried so hard to get her back. She wondered to herself if one of those methods actually worked, just very slowly.

The other person she didn’t know was Grian. The single hermit new to season 6 was one of the last to talk to her. He greeted her quietly, but not shyly. After giving him a brief explanation of the situation, he gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. He said that he knew the feeling of being the center of attention when the hermits found him alone on the new server. Wishing her luck, he headed out, and Cleo went back to talk with the others.

Now that the shock factor had passed, the chatter became more casual. Various hermits explained what happened in season 5. It was a bit disheartening to know that she missed so much, but she laughed along with the others as they talked about the pranks and mishaps, telling herself that It’s most certainly better than being dead.

Cleo also had a few conversations with the other non-human herits. She expressed a few of her worries to them about not being human anymore, and they cheered her up to the best of their ability. Doc specifically had given her a friendly pat on the back and said that they were now “Green skin buds.”

Before they knew it, it was starting to get late. Waving goodbye, the hermits slowly left to continue with their own agendas, eventually leaving only Cleo and Joe.

Cleo turned to face Joe. “So, what now?”

“Well, I’d like to check you over - make sure none of your limbs are at risk of falling off and whatnot, but that can wait till tomorrow. For now, lets head back to my place, seeing as you don’t have your own yet.”

They headed towards Joe’s Ministry of Truth, Joe explaining his plans to build statues in it, and Cleo expressing her desire to build a pirate ship base as they went. They soon reached the framework of the future building and headed into its basement.

Joe searched through his chests and soon after pulled out a cooked pork chop. However, when he offered it to Cleo, she refused.

“Why?”

“I dunno, it just doesn’t… look appetising, I guess. That sounds weird when I say it out loud.”

“Hmm…” Joe went through his chest a second time, and took out and uncooked pork chop this time. Suddenly realising how hungry she was, she quickly snatched it up and ate the whole thing.

Realising how fast she had eaten it afterwards, she gave Joe a sheepish grin. “Uh… side effect of being a zombie, I guess.” She chuckled nervously.

“It’s quite alright, Cleo,” he said reassuringly as he turned back to his supplies. Finding some wool and planks, Joe crafted a bed for Cleo and placed it down on the other side of the small room. Cleo hopped onto hers, and Joe started  to move over to his side of the room, but stopped and turned towards her. “You sure you’re alright? I imagine that all of this is a lot to take in.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” It was mostly true. She still had her worries, but they weren’t nagging at her too much. Pausing for a moment, she grinned when she thought up a funny line. She put one hand on her hip and pointed the other into the air. “I’m no longer regular Cleo, I’m… ZombieCleo!”

Joe quietly laughed at her quip, and Cleo couldn’t help but smile proudly. He walked up to the light switch, and looked over towards her for the last time that day.

“Goodnight ZombieCleo.”

“Goodnight Joe.”

[ijustwant2write]

The Girl From The Circus-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @softtroublemaker)

Masterlist

Summary: The circus is in town, an odd spectacle for the people of Small Heath. The Peaky Blinders obviously take no interest, until one of their youngest members spots a particularly interesting attraction.

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: None

(A/N This has been on my mind ever since ‘The Greatest Showman’ came out, can’t believe I didn’t write it sooner)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Dad! Mum! Dad!” 

A hoard of John’s children came bursting through the front door, startling the Shelby family that had managed to sit down together for a meal, a rare occasion; the kids had been told to play outside and ‘let the adults talk’ though it seemed that they hadn’t taken much notice.

“What’s all the yelling for?” John shouted over his kids as they crowded around him, all of them speaking at once.

The rest of the Shelby’s looked on, wondering what had got them all so excited. At first they had been startled, worried that something was wrong until they saw their beaming smiles, now tugging on whatever limb they could grab.

The eldest spoke up, gaining control over their younger siblings.“Dad, the circus has come here! There’s going to be a show with horses and acrobats and clowns and-”

“Why on Earth has the circus come to Small Heath?”

“Can we please go? Please?”

They all started to chime in, repeating the well mannered word. Everyone started to laugh as they saw the panic in John’s eyes, even Esme couldn’t help herself until two of her children started tp plead towards her.

“You know the circus could be fun, have a proper family outing?” Ada piped up, smiling as she cuddled Karl in her arms.

“The Shelby’s going to the circus? Never heard anything more ridiculous in my life.” Arthur scoffed with a smirk.

“We can’t deny them of the circus, it may never come again.” 

“Well I think it’s a good idea too, might keep them happy for a while. We should all go, like Ada said, be a proper family.”

John sighed.“When is this circus performing then?”

“Not tomorrow night, but the one after.” the child said.

“In two days time? No, we can’t go.”

“Let us guess, does have something to do with business?” Polly snapped, already fed up with her nephew’s excuse.

“Course Polly. But you can still go.” Tommy said as he lit a cigarette.

“It won’t be the same.”

“We can’t pass this offer Polly. Tell you what, Finn and some of the younger boys will go with you.”

Finn, who had been leaning against a wall and observing the conversation at this point, suddenly realised that he had been dragged into the mess. His jaw dropped at the idea of chaperoning his nieces and nephews and the ladies to a circus; he would be the laugh of the town when people found out.

“What?! No, I’m supposed to be going with you lot that night.” Finn protested.

“Don’t worry Finn, you’re not missing out on much. You’re gonna take the family down to the circus and look after them, be the man of the household for once.” Tommy calmly said back, knowing that he would win the argument.

“But that’s not fair! Just cause I’m the youngest-”

“Please uncle Finn! Please come with us!” The kids whined again, guilt tripping their uncle this time.

Finn looked to his family members for any help but received none. The kids crowded round his legs, still repeating their pleas, they weren’t going to give up easily. Saying no to the adults was easy, but to the kids, that was just plain cruel. The young man groaned before letting out a loud sigh.

“Fine, I’ll go with you. But Isaiah and Michael have to come too!”

Over the next two days, all the kids could talk about was the circus. It was driving everyone mad, though no one showed this, knowing that they had never seen anything like this before. Finn was the most annoyed, making a show of how irritating it was to be the youngest Shelby; he should be helping with the business, not watching the circus with a bunch of kids. 

“I can’t believe you dragged us here, couldn’t you have just taken one for the team?” Isaiah huffed as they walked behind the women and children to the circus.

“Waste of my time, I was supposed to be at that meeting too you know.” Michael grumbled.

“Would you stop complaining? The sooner we get there, the sooner it will be over.”

Crowds of people were entering the ginormous circus tent, the traditional red and white stripes adorning the place. The rich smell of sawdust filled everyone’s nostrils as they found their seats; front and centre, only the best for the Shelby’s. The spectators excited chatter filled the huge room, wondering what curiosities they would be amazed with. Nothing this big had happened to their town in ages, or something happy at least. 

Finn glanced around the place, only seeing families filled with young children, no young men like him. His shoulders slumped as he leaned his arms on his knees, embarrassment filling him. Just as he thought about escaping, the lights dimmed, the music already starting. He sighed, settling back in his seat; might as well try to enjoy it.

At first, the young Blinders had slouched postures and frowns on their faces, humiliated that they were with kids at a circus. However, their attitudes quickly changed as the performers emerged, their minds trying to keep up with everything that was going on. Beneath their tough exterior, they were still young, they could still enjoy these things, though no one needed to know. They joined in with the cheers, the clapping and the many laughs, a very rare sight to see.

The ring master appeared again as the foolish clowns tumbled off, announcing his next act. The lights dimmed as he made his way to the middle of the arena, the dramatic music softening. For the first time that night, the audience were silent, drawn in by the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ring masters voice was quieter than before,“prepare to be dazzled and enchanted by our own, Dancing Dove.”

That’s all that was said before he left again, a single spotlight still shining in the middle of the ring. Hushed whispers filled the silence until the small band started to play a classical piece. Eyes were trained on the ring as they finally spotted her. Like an angel descending from heaven, a young woman was sat in a hoop attached to a string, her body bending in peculiar ways as she reached the ground. She would effortlessly swing around, the height of the hoop changing every few minutes, looking graceful as she performed. The audience were in awe, stunned by how someone so petite could have so much strength.

Finn’s jaw dropped in awe. He had never seen anything like this before. Something was drawing her to him. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t like any other girl he had seen before; she was part of the circus, that was every child’s dream! He wanted to now how she joined them, why she did, how did she learn all of these tricks she so effortlessly showed off. Finn was intrigued, his mind racing at the endless questions he could ask her. 

Her feet planted firmly on the ground before the hoop ascended again. The audience cheered loudly, an earned round of applause following; however, that was not the end of her act. A single piece of rope replaced the hoop, which she wrapped around one hand before she flew into the air. Gasps and shrieks added to the music as she flew around the room, smiling down at everyone below her. Finn could have sworn that she looked at him, pushing the doubts out of his thoughts.

Her act was over way too quickly for him, but he didn’t hesitate to give her a standing ovation. Luckily, he was not alone in this, as the whole audience roared in applause. She took her bow, smiling as she had throughout her performance, waving once again as she left the ring.

Finn found himself in a slight daze after that. He couldn’t properly focus on the acts, the ‘Dancing Dove’ still fresh on his mind. The way the lights followed her made her even more dazzling, the music adding to her grace. As the clowns came out once again, he slipped away unnoticed, needing a smoke to clear his mind. He walked around the big top as he smoked, making sure not to stray too close to the acts’ caravans, assuming that there would be some sort of muscle to keep people out. 

“Not enjoying the show?” a heavenly voice called out.

Finn whipped around, almost dropping his cigarette as he laid eyes on the trapeze artist. She was wrapped in a robe, smiling as she approached him.

“Oh, uh, n-no, I mean yes! I am, I just needed some fresh air.” He stumbled over his words, amazed by her beauty.

She giggled, it was music to his ears.“Getting fresh air by smoking?”

He immediately threw the cigarette away, taking off his cap out of respect.“You were amazing in there. I’ve never seen anything like that, it was just...”

“Amazing? Well thank you very much. Don’t get a lot of people my age coming to see me.”

Finn started to blush, feeling embarrassed.“I’m here with my family, I’m sure my nieces and nephews won’t stop talking about it for weeks.”

“That’s very sweet of you. Uh, can I ask a sort of personal question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you a Peaky Blinder?”

His eyes widened, wondering how she knew.

“I saw the caps, your razors glisten in the lights.” It was as if she read his mind.

“Yeah, I am.” He was expecting her to run away at any minute.“I can go if you want-”

“No, don’t go! Everyone has been raving on about you guys, said you paid top money to get those seats. And all the other exciting underground work you do.”

“Woah, I’m surprised you guys know us.” 

“I think you’re more famous than you think.”

“More famous than the circus?”

They both laughed.“Perhaps not. I never asked your name.”

“Finn Shelby. I know your stage name, but...”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She stuck out her hand and they shook.

“That’s an odd name.”

“I made it up. Only family I ever had was the circus.”

“It must be so thrilling to work here.”

“It has it’s ups and downs, you know, everything is an act.”

“Everything?”

She smirked.“Everyone’s got an act.”

He smiled back, his heart racing as he looked over her features again. Her hair and makeup were still done from the show, though a slight layer of sweat covered her forehead, though he didn’t care. She looked beautiful to him.

“Will you be in Small Heath for long?”

“We’re here for a few days before we leave again.”

“When will you come back?”

She shook her head slightly.“Who knows? The circus doesn’t really follow a schedule.”

“Perhaps...perhaps you’d like to do something tomorrow?”

“Something? Hm, sounds intriguing. I’ll sleep on it.” She started to walk away, teasing him that bit longer.

“What if I come here tomorrow morning? Have a plan by then?”

She stopped, suddenly approaching Finn again.“Don’t worry about a plan, like I said, we don’t follow those.” She reached up to kiss his cheek, relishing in the sight of him blushing.“See you tomorrow, Finn Shelby of the Peaky Blinders!”

[homesoutofhuman]

Safe and Sound: John Wick/Reader- Chapter 1

Yes I started another series, I know you all want me dead. I know a good hitman if you’re serious about it.

Based off this photoshoot that destroyed me

Warnings: Kidnapping, guns, knives, bondage (not in a sexy way yet), John is not a nice guy...or is he?

You’re feeling a little less than sexy today, a bit bloated from a serious night of carbs, your hair needs washing and a spot is threatening to form on your forehead.

So maybe that’s why, smiling at a tall dark stranger in the cafe is making you feel better about yourself, especially when he smiles back.

You pay for your iced coffee, and go and sit a table near the window, opening your book, finding the place you left off.

You can feel eyes on you, and count to three before you look up.

It’s tall dark and handsome, walking straight towards your table with all the cocky confidence you’ve never had.

“Excuse me…” he says with a surprisingly gruff, but soft voice, and you find yourself drawn in, your book forgotten.

“I just have to say....you are….very pretty…”

You duck your head in embarrassment, not used to random compliments from strange men.

“Uhm...thanks?”

The stranger throws himself down on the chair opposite you before you have time to protest.

“I know this is terribly rude, and I don’t want to disturb you, but I just wanted to introduce myself.”

He offers his hand and you shake it, bemused.

“I’m John….and your name?”

You open your mouth to tell him when suddenly there is a loud crash and three men in ski masks armed with large guns burst into the cafe.

You stifle a scream and the man opposite turns towards them, speaking scathingly.

“You idiots, you were supposed to wait for the signal, after I got verification of identity.”

You gape, too much in shock to realise what is happening.

“I’m sorry Miss, the dark haired stranger ‘John’ continues “you’re going to have to come with me.”

He grabs your arm, moves a cloth to your face, and next moment everything is dark.

-----------------

When you wake up your arms and ankles are tied with rope, your eyes covered. You struggle trying to free yourself and hear a low voice nearby.

“You’’ll only hurt yourself like that pretty thing, best not to move, and trust me, this is for your own safety”

“John?” you whisper, your voice raspy with fear.

The cover is pulled from your eyes and you see him, up close this time, eyes dark and fixed on you sternly.

“Yeah. It’s me. Like i said. Let’s do this with as little fuss as possible, can we?”

You blink letting your eyes adjust to the light and you can tell you’re inside the back of a moving van.

Another man next to to John turns to speak to him “Jesus John, you told her real name? Isn’t that kind of a risk?”

John gives him a dangerous look, he is obviously the boss in this situation “I decide what I risk here.” He glances back to you, holding your gaze “I made a calculated one.”

You stare at him, searching for some humanity or mercy “Please let me go, I won’t go to the police…”

John gives a humourless laugh “Of course you wouldn’t. But you see, we’re better than the police. We’re going to save your fucking life.”

The van screeches to a halt, and John bangs on the door for it to be opened. He grabs you by your roped arms and pushes you outside.

You look around desperately, looking for an escape, but John holds you tightly and all you see are trees and sky, before he leads you into what looks like an abandoned building.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.”

He moves to talk to his colleagues, glancing back to make sure you stay still. With your ankles tied, there is little you can do but stay where he put you, sitting on a bench and looking around.

You cannot hear any of their low hushed conversation, but see John pointing to the door, and the men with rifles moving outside.

John tucks a pistol into his belt and walks towards you.

He flips out a knife and you flinch.

“Relax...I’m not going to hurt you.”

Something in his eyes rings true, so you try to calm your frantic heart.

John cuts your bonds. You rub your wrists and look up at him,

“I’ve got rope burn.”

“That’s cause you wouldn’t stop struggling. I did warn you.” John sighs.

“Now I don’t have to give you the ‘don’t run cause I’ll catch you’ speech do I? You’re smarter than that.”

You glance at the door, calculating your chances.

“Well?” he tilts his head.

“No.” you spit out, glaring at him.

“Good. and don’t look so sour, we have to be around each other the next few days, we should try and get on.”

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

John sighs, rubbing a hand over his face “You got yourself mixed up with the wrong people. There’s a price on your head.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You whimper, your voice soft then.

John comes nearer to you, still holding the knife, so you freeze in fear. He puts it under your chin to tilt your face up into the light.

“I never forget a face. Especially not one like yours. You’re the one, and I’m going to keep you here out the way here until the coast is clear.”

He stows the knife away in his jacket and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“You couldn’t have just asked me to come?”

John chuckles, and there is a little humour in it this time “You would have come without a fuss?”

You shake your head and he snorts “Exactly. Besides, the drama routine was necessary, it’ll throw people off the scent, think we are going to cash in on that reward ourselves.”

“You’re not?”

His face is inscrutable. “Things will become clear in time. Try to get some sleep.”

You look around, there appears to be nothing but hard wooden benches. “Where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?”

“Sorry Princess, this isn’t the fucking Radisson. Take the floor.” John growls at you, moving to the corner of the room, removing his jacket.

You curse him inside your head, trying to arrange yourself in a comfy position. A few minutes later a blanket is thrown at your head.

“Here.” grunts John, sitting on a bench and resting his gun on his knees. “Sleep well, I’ll be watching.”

You wake and you limbs are frozen from the cold floor, you pull the blanket closer around you. The room is dark, but you think you can see the glint of light from the direction you remember John being. It’s either from his gun, or his eyes, you don’t know.

You sit up, wearing the blanket as a shawl and walk over to him.

He starts, looking up at you, instantly wary. Not asleep then.

“What is it?” he asks in a low voice, almost gentle.

“I...I’m scared. What’s going to happen to me?” You sit next to him on the bench, not too close, giving him room as you would a wild animal. But you can still smell him, his jacket smells like a bonfire, and his skin, like the grass after rain.

He turns his dark head to look at you, and you hold his gaze. He looks intrigued by you and you bite your lip, knowing he is weighing you up.

John’s eyes run methodically over your face, you feel like he is cataloguing, your eyelashes, your cheeks, your mouth.

“When I take on a job I complete it. No exceptions. I’ve taken on this job to protect you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

You whimper a bit despite his words, it’s a little hard to feel reassured when your only saviour has you at gunpoint in the woods.

“I know...why they want me...I saw something…”

John brings a finger to your lips. “Better for me if I don’t know the details. This is strictly professional.”

“Oh.” You look down, chastened, and think you must have imagined John’s finger slightly caressing your lip before moving away.

“Won’t you sleep?” you ask him, raising your eyes again to assess signs of fatigue on him. You wonder how old he is, his beard peppered with pieces of grey, but there are only slight laughter lines around his eyes. He does smile then, you ponder. His eyes though, his eyes, they look ageless. He looks like what you used to imagine Hades would, from your childhood books, come to life, right in front of you.

You always had a bit of a thing for the Lord of the Underworld.

John watches you watching him. “There’s a guard outside the door, I guess, if it makes you sleep, I could. But you’re staying near me.”

You nod in acquiescence and he kneels down on the floor, pulling you so you lie against his chest, spooning himself around you, still holding his gun. You try to breathe steadily and not notice his body heat seeping into yours his breathing against your ear. You know he is doing it to keep you safe, just for his job, but for a few moments before you fall asleep, you pretend that he’s someone who cares about you.