#My singing voice however. Is the deep husky voice of a man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlefreya · 4 years ago

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As I was saying

Summary: You recently found out that you’re pregnant and Henry is being all sorts of over-protective and annoying about it and won’t shut up about what you should or shouldn’t eat. So you find a creative way to shut him up...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (no description of body type or ethnicity thought it’s mention that Henry is taller)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, RPF, fluff to smut, early pregnancy, blow job, bodily fluids, slight FemDom/SubMale, My overuse of poetic sex metaphors, cottagecore!

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or parts from it.

A/N: This story was born out of a convo I had with my sweet @the-soot-sprite about the photo above. Many thanks to @agniavateira my solid rock who betas all my work and to @firefly-graphics for the dividers

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my story. I work hard on each one of them and your validation means the world to me. 🖤

As I was Saying

Henry’s velvety voice carried through the cottage like seductive vapours of honey liqueur. It wasn’t often that he'd sing a blissful tune so casually out of the blue—after earth-shattering sex perhaps, which indeed you had the night before. However, this morning, his chants were laced with a new flavour of sugary bliss.

Two little pink stripes. That's all it took for his eyes to shimmer the way precious cobalt is kissed by a moonlight glow.

Sneaking about in the mien of a curious little mouse, you trod after the pleasant tune of his voice, which was now accompanied by a soft rustle. Wander laved your face once you leaned against the kitchen door frame, peering at the prodigious man who stood in front of the open fridge.

Preoccupied, he appeared to be ransacking through the shelves with the song ‘Cheek to Cheek’ thrumming on his tongue.

“Heaven... I'm in heaven…”

Fingers clutching at the edge of the wall, you pressed into the chilled surface with a relaxed smirk, lingering on the irresistible view when your ease of mind faded with a blink of an eye — while methodically rummaging through the fridge, Henry threw fresh food straight into an open trash can.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice rising to a high-pitched yip.

Henry made a soft flex; the muscles of his back rippled in a tidal motion. Though acknowledging your presence, he proceeded to hover a finger over different products.

“Cleaning up the fridge," he answered absentmindedly.

With a soft shove, there went your French cheese.

“That’s brand new!” you protested and rushed toward him, alarmed.

Towering over the trash can, you considered diving in to salvage the precious bulk of cheese from the dreary pit. Henry glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, testing your resolve while his claw grabbed some papaya salad leftovers and pushed it over the edge of the shelf, joining the rest of the discarded meals.

“It is,” he nodded and closed the refrigerator door, carrying on to the high cabinets. With a slight wrinkle between his brows and a hand scratching the stubbles of his dimpled chin, he narrowed his eyes to scrutinise the items carefully. “I'm pregnant-proofing the kitchen. I called Hanna while you were asleep. She created a proper daily menu for you with the dos and don’ts: less sugar, more veggies and protein.”

It took you a moment to process his words, your eyes narrowing while asking, “Hanna? As in Hanna, your nutritionist?”

Henry nodded at your question, a faint crease lining his cheek. “That’s the one. Don't worry, princess, she specialises with pregnant women.”

Unwittingly, a somewhat inhuman growl sounded in your chest. You were only getting used to the idea of developing another person inside you, and here stood your husband, already seeing fit to dictate your diet. Slithering into the narrow space between the heavy man and the counter, you tilted your chin to meet his stare while your fists pressed into your hips assertively.

“Listen here, Cavill! You might have jizzed me one too many and succeeded in putting a baby in there, but this is still my body. I can take care of my own pregnancy diet.”

With an arm stretched above your head, Henry offered a charming display of pearly whites to pacify your strained nerves. His dimples nearly managed to beguile your senses when your eyes flared at the sight of what was held between his long fingers.

“No! Henry, no! Not the coffee!”

“Oh, I’m afraid so, my love. You shouldn’t have any caffeine at your current state.” Despite his argument, the tenderness of his gaze stroked upon your face like a warm ray of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Lazily it dropped to your belly, the cascading heat cradling your unborn child.

Words of protest left you for a sliver of a moment, too in awe of the dreamy grin on his face.

Thoughts of how beautiful you’d look rounded and full with his child illuminated him that you swore his skin developed a glow over the night. Didn’t they always say women are radiant when they are pregnant? Well, it seemed that in your case, it applied to your husband as well.

The charming haze of bliss almost swallowed you up; but you quickly slapped yourself back into reality, reaching a hand in an attempt to stop Henry from throwing away your delicacy. Though taller, Henry held his hand far out of reach, a hint of a smugness stretching his lips.

“A pregnant woman is allowed to have a little bit of caffeine!” You muttered and sent both hands in an attempt to retrieve the box while Henry teased you by throwing it from one hand to the other, further fueling your annoyance.

Vexed to the point of frustration, you stood still and sighed, “you know what else is bad for the baby?”

Henry paused his foolish games and tilted his head as he waited to hear your answer.

“His father at the morgue after I’ll kill him. Now stop that and hand it over! A pregnant woman can have a cup a day, according to Google.”

“Nope,” Henry clicked his tongue, his laughter replaced with a severe stare. “Love, I know they say it’s okay to have a teeny bit, but I’ve been doing some research while you were asleep, and it’s not recommended. Caffeine increases heart rate and blood pressure, which is not good for you nor for the baby. It also increases urination, which may cause dehydration.”

Clenching your jaw at the onslaught of information he bestowed, you watched his lips move while none of his words registered. Preoccupied with the rules of a “healthy” pregnancy, Henry was set on being the practical one, completely forgetting to enjoy the moment. And damn, it was the moment to celebrate. All you wanted right now was to stay in bed for a day, ride your handsome husband to hell and back and eat as much ice cream as possible.

“Everything you eat from now on goes to our baby,” Henry proceeded to lecture on a thing you were perfectly aware of.

Ire found you within seconds, embroiled with pregnancy hormones which made him further intolerable at the moment— intolerable

... and delicious.

Soaked with hunger, your eyes raked his sight: the thickness of his muscles was apparent beneath a plain black t-shirt and those good old grey sweats outlined the source of your current predicament. Your fingers twitched just from thinking about it, mimicking the sensation of squeezing its girth and eliciting those low groans that made your heart flutter.

But his chatter still interrupted your sultry thoughts. If only there was a way to get him to shut up, you mused. Then your eyes focused on the soft bulge that winked back at your hungry glare.

Unaware, Henry turned toward the table to grab a bulk of informative documents he printed earlier in order to educate you of your pregnancy, he licked his thumb and began to read through, “As I was saying….”

Hastily, you exploited his lack of attention and took a step forward, your fingers latching around the hem of his sweats. With one swift movement, you fell to your knees and tugged his trousers along.

Lost in his passionate speech, Henry was still muttering nonsense when your hand seized him; but as the lushness of your tongue bedded his soft cock without warning, all that could be heard in the kitchen was a husky gasp.

Feeling the warm silky flesh swell and harden within your mouth, you sent your eyes up to peer at him, admiring the sight. Nothing spoke of your power better than the wrinkle between his shut eyes and his mouth agape with all air draining from his lungs. There you were, lowered to your knees with a maw full of his cock and yet, he was the one who lost his ability to speak and had his legs quaking of need.

Unable to help yourself, you sent one palm to feel the tremor that ran through the muscles of his thighs while the other cradled his heavy sac.

“Uh……” he finally managed to utter, a groan of bemused bliss pushing itself between his parted lips. “What… what are you doing?”

You crooked an eyebrow in response and answered by dragging your mouth along the length of his shaft. Your pillowy lips ran across ridges and thrumming veins, your jaw loosening until you felt him deep in the back of your throat.

Locked in the cavernous cage of your maw, he tightened his gut and shuddered with pleasure. Though, the low unbridled groans that sputtered from his chest fueled your enticement just as so; memories of how the same thick girth that brimmed your mouth would split open your narrow canal made both your eyes and abandoned cunt tear of desperation.

It always beguiled you how much arousal could be found in bringing him to his rapture without touching yourself. The harder he throbbed on your velvety serpent, the more you soaked.

With fervent strokes, you feasted on the briny flavour of his cock; the tendons vibrated with bliss while your tongue twirled and pushed around them. You pulled, sucked, and pumped him in your warm mouth, milking the senses of a man infinitely stronger—a man who succeeded in conquering your womb yet now crumbled to nothing at the touch of your tongue.

“Fuck…. Babe… keep going,” Henry breathed out a plea. The documents held by his hand slipped between his fingers as he pressed his palm to the cabinet with a thud, and began to rock his hips back and forth to fuck back into your mouth. Like feathers, the white slips floated around you, landing onto the ground while you worked him to his ecstasy.

His other hand found your head, caressing lovingly and trying to take control: yet his strength waned and his head fell back with a moan. Faster, harder, you sucked your husband to the point of submission while hums of admiration laced around his rigid length. Your eyes beamed as you watched his resolve shatter. Your fingertips toyed with the coarse hair at the apex of his thighs, your thumb seeking the tendon at the base of his cock and pressing into it, urging him to spill his gift down your throat.

“I’m going to… I’m going to…. In your throat… fuck.”

With a guttural grunt, he thickened against your tongue; the overflow of salty-sweet cream glazed your mouth and then flowed down your flaring throat.

The room thrummed with the buzz of the refrigerator, Henry’s heavy exhales - these were the sounds of your triumph. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you cracked a smile and neatly pulled his trousers back on before you rose to stand straight.

Overwhelmed and drenched in sweat, your husband scrutinised you while you reached for the box of capsules and tilted your head.

“You were saying?”

#henry cavill rpf #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction

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twinclownsoflotuspiers · 2 years ago

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Chengxian Minific | angst, open end, mutual pining, postcanon

In the past whenever Jiang Cheng suffered from insomnia, Wei Wuxian used to sing to help him sleep. While a-jie did it too, somehow Wei Wuxian's voice always helped soothe him better. Coz when Wei Wuxian sang, his voice got softer with a husky quality. Wei Wuxian was always better at instruments than singing. He tended to go slightly off key at times and he didn't have a high scale but Jiang Cheng loved his singing especially for that. It was strangely soothing, strangely grounding.

When after the whole Sunshot Campaign happens n Wei Wuxian begins avoiding him, Jiang Cheng doesn't have time to worry much coz he is preoccupied with rebuilding the sect and dealing with diplomatic stuff. But occasionally he would sit alone in the office, frustrated & unable to sleep and he would recall Wei Wuxian's voice & miss it terribly. Even if he wants to ask the other to sing, he can't bring himself to ever do it because there seems to be a chasm between them now & he doesn't know how to cross it.

And then things go further to the deep end and Wei Wuxian defects then dies and Jiang Cheng is left in the wake cursing, mourning - conflicted whether to hate or grieve the one he loved, still loves. He distracts himself through overworking, taking care of Jin Ling, hunting down demonic cultivators who think the power is a "fun" thing and use it for wrong purposes. What would they know when demonic cultivation lost him some of the most important people in his whole life. He wouldn't let himself admit that he missed Wei Wuxian's soft singing and the comfort it brought him. He wouldn't let himself admit that he missed Wei Wuxian.

Life goes on. Jiang Cheng thinks he's getting better at moving on. But then Wei Wuxian comes back, secrets are revealed and suddenly his life is thrown into chaos once again. Suddenly a lot of things are explained & once again Jiang Cheng is conflicted about what to feel - hate? anger? guilt? sadness? overwhelming love? Gratitude? All of them together? He decides to let himself feel acceptance and peace and fulfill Wei Wuxian's wishes and let him go.

"If he's happy perhaps I can be happy for him too"

He tries not to think about how he still misses Wei Wuxian's voice, his songs. It wouldn't be the same now anyway. Wei Wuxian doesn't have the Same body or voice as before. He thinks they both can be happy apart.

No one would've expected however, for a collaborative nighthunt to go wrong & Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian stuck in a cave together with Jiang Cheng badly injured to boot. The cave is blocked & they're separated from everyone And this feels strangely similar to the indoctrination situation & Xuanwu cave.

Jiang Cheng is in pain even if they've tried to treat his wounds as much as possible. Wei Wuxian awkwardly tries to get him to rest but Jiang Cheng can't sleep nor rest peacefully.

He tries to ignore the other man, to shut his eyes and drift, and then he hears it. Wei Wuxian singing. His voice isn't the same. It's not soft and husky anymore. It's slightly nasal and lighter. Yet Jiang Cheng can't help but feel a lump in his throat.

Wei Wuxian continues singing & that is when Jiang Cheng notices the words he had never Noticed before. Of course he knows the song because it's the same song Wei Wuxian always used to sing except Jiang Cheng had never noticed the words before seeing he always fell asleep before Wei Wuxian reached the crucial bits.

And Jiang Cheng can't help but get amazed, shocked, bewildered. Because these are words of longing, of awe, of affection and love - it's a one sided confession & Jiang Cheng is baffled because he's been hearing this song since they were 11 and....is this for him?

He sits up suddenly, startling Wei Wuxian, and asks him so, tentatively and with a strange feeling blooming within. Wei Wuxian is looking at him in shock & surprisingly, fear.

"You didn't fall asleep?" He asks

"No," Jiang Cheng replies. "Answer my question, Wei Wuxian. What does that song mean?"

Wei Wuxian looks ready to deflect and run away as always and Jiang Cheng is TIRED. He's had enough of both of them always running away and he wants answers.

"For once, Wei Wuxian please don't lie to me," he says tiredly. "Who is that song for?"

Wei Wuxian crumbles, looking extremely tired himself. Maybe all the running away was taking a toll on him too. Who even knew with him?

"For you," he answers.

And Jiang Cheng’s heart skips a beat but he can't believe it. "You're lying."

"I'm done lying," Wei Wuxian snaps back & he looks REALLY tired, like he's breaking apart from inside out and Jiang Cheng has NEVER seen him look this vulnerable. "I wrote that song and I wrote it for you."

They're both quiet, not knowing where to go from there. Jiang Cheng doesn't know what to feel once again. On one hand he's happy that Wei Wuxian had written such a song for him. On another, he's not sure what to do with the reminder that it would now be in the past & Wei Wuxian has someone else now.

"That song....I still mean every word in it"

Jiang Cheng looks up in shock and Wei Wuxian has a painful smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for dumping this on you," Wei Wuxian continues. "I'm always dumping unnecessary burdens on you. I will never fault you for hating me. I know I'm selfish for it, but I still need you to know after all. Jiang Cheng....every word in the song, I meant it then, I still mean it now"

Jiang Cheng can't believe it, but there's a part of him that feels like a heavy burden had just suddenly lifted from his heart.

"You don't need to return my feelings," Wei Wuxian is rambling now, & tears are streaming down his face. Jiang Cheng realises it's been a while since he last saw the other cry. "I'm sorry I'm saying it all now, but...I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry...."

Jiang Cheng wonders if he hadn't been awake & heard the song for how much longer would Wei Wuxian continue hiding it all.

"You're an idiot" he tells him and Wei Wuxian laughs.

"I know."

"No you don't," Jiang Cheng counters. There's something buzzing under his skin and he NEEDS to say something. "You don't know. I---"

He stops, frustrated at himself & his hesitation. "If I could compose songs I'd make one for you too."

"What?" Wei Wuxian asks in confusion.

Jiang Cheng gestures vaguely, frustrated, "I return them. Your feelings. I return them all. Always have."

He wants to jump off a cliff in mortification.

Wei Wuxian is staring at him, disbelieving. "Why would you?" He whispers. "After everything that I've..."

"I HAVEN'T forgiven you," Jiang Cheng grits out. "But I can't--"

I can't stop loving you either.

It's what he wants to say but can't say. Fortunately Wei Wuxian gets it. There was a time they could communicate without words. Perhaps it wasn't entirely lost.

When rescuers manage to get them out, things haven't been fully solved but there's a certain peace in both.

As they bow to each other before parting ways, Wei Wuxian looks at him with a silent promise There was still lot to talk out. But maybe, for once, jc could be hopeful

-End-

#chengxian #xiancheng #officially coming off of tumblr lurker status #unspecified time but it's set way after postcanon #chengxian are powerful stfu #chengxian reconciliation #you decide whatever happens to lwj #they are idiots #in love #wei wuxian #jiang wanyin #jiang cheng #i am archiving my threadfics from twitter here #coz twitter is a sh*thole

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Sweet Talk (Din Djarin x afab!Reader)

Summary: Din can’t hold back anymore, and decides to start flirting with you. Too bad he’s awful at it.

W/C: 3.5K

Warnings: lots of flirting, lots of innuendos, SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, kiddos), fingering, squirting, cream pie... language? yeah uh there’s a lot. Reader is afab but no pronouns or gendered pet names are used. lots of dirty talk.

A/N: AAAAAAAA this was a request for @notabotiswear!! I hope you guys all like it, this is my first Din smut and I was rlly nervous bc uh Din smut is obviously something big in this fandom and I wasn’t sure if I’d characterize it properly. but here we are!

You don’t know what Din looks like under his helmet, but you think he must be smirking. There’s no way the man wouldn’t be, not with the words he just said to you.

You’ve been travelling with Din and his little green son for a while now. You’d brought everything good to the beskar man’s life the moment you met. You made him eat more, drink more water. The presence of another human on the ship encouraged Din to bathe more and to keep the ship tidier. All in all, things had massively improved when you entered Din Djarin’s life.

One specific perk brought relief: you were extremely in touch with The Force. So was the tiny little green bean. From you, Din had finally learned his son’s name. He didn’t really like the way Grogu rolled off the tongue, however, so he generally stuck to calling him what he had before. Your ability to communicate with Grogu made things like bedtime and baths much easier, and everything went smoother.

Yes, you were a Force user. Ever since you were a child, you’d had a special sensitivity to that force that flowed all around you. Even though Din was not aware of The Force, nor was he able to use it or speak with it, the energy of The Force made the man practically glow. You understood why Grogu liked him so much. The man radiated it, warm energy that seemed unnatural for a bounty hunter. Once you got to know him, it all made sense. His aura was indescribable, really, but it was fitting. He was a good man at his core. He was kind and even funny sometimes.

Let’s return to the present: Din Djarin just pulled a cheesy pickup line on you, and it made you stare at him with an expression of sheer confusion, even though you could feel your cheeks warm from his words. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

He looks up at you and cocks his head to the side. “I said that I may not be able to feel the Force, but I wish I could feel you.”

Your mouth hangs open, trying to press down a giggle that rises in your throat. “Din, what the fuck?” You finally laugh, grinning. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard. No wonder you’re single,” you shake your head. “Where is this coming from?”

Din’s last reserve has broken. He’s been planning this for days, planning the way he’d finally tell you everything he thinks. “Just… I wasn’t listening to you at all. Was looking at your face. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He asks you, the black T-visor staring you down.

You frown as you see your own reflection in the shining beskar. “I wish I could say the same about you,” you tease and tap your fingers on the metal helmet he wears. “What do you look like under there? Can you tell me?”

“Why, so you can make fun of it?” Din rolls his eyes.

“No, so I can finally put a face to the man I think about at night,” you tease, leaning in closer. It’s instinctual, like you’re leaning in so he can kiss you. He obviously can’t, not with that damn helmet on his head that you know isn’t coming off any time soon.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh come on,” you smirk at him. “Two can play at that game, Din. What do you look like?” You ask, tracing your fingers across the indents of his helmet and down to his neck. “Can I see your skin?” You ask in a low, quiet voice.

Din nods. You pull the neck of his clothing down to reveal a patch of gorgeous, caramelly skin. “Oh,” you mumble before you can stop yourself. “I bet you have brown eyes, don’t you? With brown hair too, since your skin is this dark. Am I right?”

His breath is heavy now. “Yeah,” he rasps out through the modulator. You press a soft kiss to his skin, feeling how warm and soft it is.

A shiver runs through his body, making the skin prick up beneath your lips. “Oh. So you meant it when you were flirting,” you giggle, sitting back upright and looking at him. “Well, you’re gonna have to win me over the hard way, Mando. Flirting is how people usually do it, I’ve heard,” you tease and pat his helmet as you stand and make your way out of the cockpit.

His aura has changed. It radiates further, sucks in more energy and pushes more out, all at a quicker speed. If it had a color, it would be a deep pink. “You want me too, don’t you, cyare?” Din asks, voice low and husky.

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself, Din,” you laugh and make your way over to your little green child to wake him from his nap.

“Grogu,” you sing softly, and the little thing stirs beneath his absurd amount of blankets. Those big eyes blink open and he makes a little grunt of effort. “I know, baby boy. So sleepy,” you coo and lift him from his cradle. He cuddles into your chest contentedly. “Good morning, snugglebug,” you mumble and press a kiss to his head.

Your back is to the ladder, but you can hear Din climbing down. His feet hit the floor. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he tells you. His voice is even deeper, raspier than the modulator makes it sound. “That body… you don’t know what you’ve unleashed by saying tha-”

You turn, holding Grogu in your arms. Din’s demeanor shifts. “Oh. Uh, hi buddy. Can he understand me?” he asks. He knows sometimes the child can, but not always. Not when he uses different words.

You shake your head, reading the baby’s energy. He’s too sleepy to comprehend anything. “No, he can’t. But really, is that so?” You ask, popping a hip and resting a hand on it.

Din nods. “I’ve always loved the color of your eyes. Have I mentioned that?” You shake your head. “Really, they’re so beautiful.”

That makes you genuinely smile up at him. “Din,” you coo and place a hand on one of the indents of his helmet. “Is there a way you can remove the helmet and I can’t see it that’s legal with The Creed? Like, if my eyes were closed, could you do it?”

He nods. “Yes. As long as you don’t see my face.”

You smile a little. “Good to know,” you nod and walk away, the baby in your arms.

The day continues like that, the two of you trading compliments and pick up lines, shamelessly flirting around the Crest. You cook dinner and Din comments that it smells nearly as good as you. Din fixes something mechanical and you comment that those fingers would feel really good somewhere else.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you for the rest of the night. You and Din dance around each other, sneaking touches of the other’s arm or hand or back. He compliments you and you flirt right back.

When Grogu finally yawns, it’s like the Maker themself sent it. Din hurriedly puts the baby to bed, and finds you in the cockpit after, sitting in his chair. The pilot’s chair. “Din,” you sing-song to grab his attention.

“What?”

You look at him with purpose for a second, then close your eyes. Sitting up a little. Referring to what you said earlier- Din can remove his helmet if you can’t see his face. He can kiss you. You can touch his face, feel him. “I promise they’ll stay closed,” you tell him.

You can hear him breathe through the modulator of his helmet for a moment, then there’s a soft sound of the helmet being removed. Finally, there’s a clank of the helmet being set on the floor. When it’s just your little family of three on the ship, Din omits the full beskar regalia. Nevertheless, you can hear the soft noise of his knees hitting the floor. In front of you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks.

His real voice is like a song. It’s nowhere near as low, though it’s still a bit deep, a bit raspy. It’s beautiful, so quintessentially Din, and you nod with a small smile. “That’s why they’re closed, stupid,” you tease.

One of Din’s calloused hands finds the side of your face. He pulls it down a little, for his kneeling height, and kisses you. Slowly. His lips are warm and soft, surprisingly soft, against your own. You break away from him for a second, your eyes still squeezed tightly shut as if you may accidentally open them. “Can I touch your head?” You ask.

In response, Din takes your hands and puts them on either side of his face. It allows you to feel the stubble beneath your fingertips, the warm skin. “You have a beard,” you giggle softly.

“All the better if my face is between your legs, right?” He chuckles. It’s just so fucking perfect and real, the way his laugh sounds without the helmet. As much as you’re enjoying the sound, the words that his voice formulates make you gasp a little and shudder. “You want that?” He asks you, lips finding your neck and kissing it slowly.

“Goddamn,” you mumble. “No, Din, I wanna fuck you tonight. Can we? Will you keep your helmet off if I promise not to look?” You ask, voice desperate. You clutch the back of his head, digging your fingers into the thick hair there- it’s wavy, you can tell. “Maker, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

Din makes a little noise of affirmation into your neck. “Yeah,” he nods. “Even better, just wait,” he says, pulling away and putting the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You do, seeing just your reflection in his helmet. “Where do you want me, baby?” You murmur to him, a hand on the side of his helmet.

Baby. No one has ever called Din that before. He’s heard it a million times, in crowded cantinas, between lovers. Between two people who cared for each other. You two cared for each other, he supposes. Obviously, or you wouldn’t be in this situation. The thought of the word makes Din pause for a moment.

“Hello? Din, what’s in there?” you tease and rap on the helmet with a fist.

You can’t see it but he’s absolutely beaming beneath his helmet, overjoyed. “Where do you want me? In the bunk? In the chair?”

You lean in and smirk, your eyes reflected in the black visor. “Where have you dreamed of having me most?” You whisper, and you swear you can see the beskar-clad man shudder.

“My bunk. Get undressed and lie down for me,” he tells you, already climbing down from the cockpit and motioning with his head for you to follow. You nod excitedly and climb down after him.

Din is looking for something, though you’re unsure of exactly what. You remove your top and pants, and start to move to remove your breastband before two large hands find your bare sides.

Din has returned, and he turns you around. He looks down at you with a long and thin strip of dark fabric in his hand, and you shudder. “Is that what I think it is?” You ask, hands finding the sides of his breastplate.

As you start unlatching his armor, Din nods. “You can undress me, then I’ll put it on and remove my helmet,” he tells you.

You smile a little as you start removing his beskar, tossing it to the side onto a discarded cape. It still makes a soft clunk, but it’s not enough to wake Grogu, thank the Maker. Once the metal is gone, your hands run over his flight suit, allowing you to feel the strong muscles beneath them.

“Din,” you murmur, unzipping the front. It exposes his bare chest, his tan skin with dark hair across it. He’s muscular, of course; as a bounty hunter must be. His arms are just as strong as you push the sleeves off of his shoulders, then push the waist down.

He doesn’t wear underwear. Of course he doesn’t, it would be impractical you suppose, but it exposes Din’s surprisingly large dick. You bite your lip as you look down at it, at how hard and needy it already is. You give it a slow stroke and Din groans. “Alright mesh’la. Let’s get that off of you,” he says and lifts your arms, pulling off the breastband.

After that, he shoves your underwear down and you step out of them, kicking them to the side. “Fuck,” he grunts at how beautiful you look, naked before him. Din pushes you back until your ass meets the end of his bunk and he lifts you to sit on the edge.

He spreads your legs and stands between them, his cock pressing against your dripping folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet, and it’s for me?” He chuckles with hardly any air in his lungs.

“Of course I am. So fucking sexy,” you murmur as you let your face fall forward into his chest, kissing at the skin and working a mark into his pec. You pull away and sit back, giving him a little room. “Okay, put it on me. Please. I just wanna kiss you,” you admit, closing your eyes preemptively.

He nods and wraps the cloth around your eyes, using his deft fingers to knot it behind your head. It’s snug, but not too tight. “You do this often?” You tease, resting your hands on his wrists.

He shakes his head. “Never have. Always kept the helmet on. You’re just…” he pauses as he removes his helmet, “something special,” he sighs, finally kissing you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him tight against you, wrapping your legs around his waist as well. “Din… should’ve said something sooner. Would’ve done anything for you,” you sigh as his lips find your jaw and then your neck, slowly tracing his tongue across your collarbone.

He makes a little grunt. “Sorry,” he chuckles. “Let me make it up to you,” he mumbles as he cups your face and kisses you again, his tongue running along the seam of your lips. “Can I do this, baby? Will you let me fuck you?”

The word again. Baby. It slipped from Din’s lips this time, before he could stop himself. He really really likes you, so much so that he can hardly contain it. He’s never been one for names in bed, degrading or praising, but he’s never going to stop calling you his, his baby.

You whine softly and break the kiss. “Please, Din. Fuck me, wreck me,” you nod before reaching out to where you find his face.

While you trace the stubble of his jaw, one of Din’s thick fingers slips into your folds. He shudders at how wet you are, tracing a finger up and down through the wet skin. “Mm, fuck,” he groans softly as the pad of his middle finger masterfully finds your clit. He rubs small circles into it, causing your head to fall forward into his shoulder.

“Please, please,” you whine, your walls clenching around nothing. “Fuck me already, baby,” you plead with Din, gripping his hips now.

“Relax, cyare,” he murmurs and kisses your neck. With the helmet on, he rarely gets to experience anything pleasurable with his mouth. Your skin is so soft and warm beneath his lips, his tongue, and he just has to bite at it. Din nibbles at your earlobe, feeling himself grow harder. “Let me take my time with you.”

“I’ve waited so long for you, Din. Please don’t make me wait,” you beg, slowly stroking his cock. A bead of precum forms on the tip and you swirl it around the head with the pad of your thumb.

Din can’t hold back anymore. He pushes your hand away and lines himself up to you with the free hand, two fingers circling your clit now. “You ready for me?” He groans.

“Yes, just fuck me,” you whimper and grab both sides of his head, pulling him to kiss you. It’s deep and hot and it grows sloppy as Din pushes into you, splitting you open on his deliciously thick cock. “Fuck,” you cry out at the sensation.

“You think you feel good?” He shivers and barely breathes out. “Feel so fuckin’ good around me, so hot and wet,” he shudders.

Din’s still standing, and he has more leverage as he thrusts all the way in, then pulls nearly all the way out. “Lay back,” he orders you, and you comply.

His second thrust is even deeper than the first as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to already hit the deep spot inside of you. You whine and he smirks. “There we go. Good job, baby, keep making those noises for me,” he insists as he starts thrusting in and out of you.

He’s fucking good at this. It’s no surprise really, the way he knows your body masterfully. It’s almost as if you’re using The Force to guide him, but he’s just that fucking skilled. His tip drags against that sweet spot against you with every thrust, and Din pulls your hips to his with one hard thrust.

It’s so hot, the sound of Din’s skin slapping into yours, the way the skin of his thigh drags against yours. “Fuck,” you cry out as he presses his fingers a little harder against your clit, making the circles he draws slower and more deliberate.

“Knew you’d sound so good,” he grunts. “Knew you’d love it when I’m fucking you. When I get to take you like this. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you nod frantically. “I wish I could see you.”

“I know, cyare,” Din assures, even though his voice is breathless and strained. “Come on, baby, you feel so close, don’t you? I can feel it, the way your walls are getting tighter around me. You gonna be good and cum on me? I think you can.”

His words are just as arousing as his actions. “I will, please, I can feel it, just keep going and don’t stop,” you whimper. You take one of his hands, lacing his fingers through yours.

Din smiles at the gesture. It’s soft, intimate. He likes it as much as he loves the way you call him baby. “That’s my good baby,” he nods and pulls your hips a little off of the bunk, so that anything that spills from you will collect on the metal floor instead of the mattress.

It grows and grows in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel it. It’s coming and it’s coming hard. “Din, Din please,” you whine, one leg wrapping tight around his hip. “Fuck, I’m gonna,” your voice barely manages out before it washes over you, the feeling flowing through your body like a high in your veins. “Din,” you cry out as you cum, toes curling from the intensity. It spills from you, all over Din’s cock, dripping onto the floor.

“Oh, good job, cyare, fuckin’ Maker, you feel so good,” he groans. “I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I cum in you?” He asks, still checking up on you.

You nod. “Please, please baby,” you groan and squeeze the hand you’re holding tight. “Need to feel it.”

He nods too, though you can’t see it. “Okay, okay, I-“ a strangled cry comes from deep within his throat as he finally lets go, his cum pushing deep inside of you. “Fuck,” he murmurs, interjected by shouts of your name.

The both of you come down later, panting and covered in sweat. Din pulls out and a little bit of his cum drips from you, joining your own release on the floor. It’s so fucking hot that Din nearly cums again. “Stay right there,” he tells you, gently stroking your hip. “Don’t take the blindfold off.”

He comes back a few moments later with a damp rag, cleaning you up before cleaning up the mess the two of you made on the floor. He puts it with the laundry then climbs into the bed next to you, cuddling into your side. “Fuck, Din,” you giggle and press a kiss to whatever skin is in front of your face- his jaw. “You’re good at that.”

“Just felt so good,” he chuckles too. “You’re fantastic. I like it when you call me baby,” he admits.

You grin. “Then I’ll have to call you it all the time, baby,” you chuckle and kiss his lips softly. “Din?”

“Yes, ner k’arta?”

“Can we sleep like this?” You ask. “I promise I won’t look at your face or sneak anything, I mean it.”

Din chuckles quietly. “Of course we can. I trust you.”

You give a happy little noise and cuddle into his warm body, his strong arms surrounding you. “I like this. You’re so cuddly,” you admit with a small laugh.

“We can do this anytime you like,” he laughs too, kissing your forehead. “Whenever, wherever. If it’s with you, I’ll do anything.”

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pascalpanic

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gutsfics · 2 years ago

Text

Unpacking A Life

AO3 Link Fandom: Red Carpet Diaries (pre-canon) Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Avalon (M!OC) Length: 1,095 Words Rating: General Audiences Prompt: @choicesficwriterscreations Please Be challenge, “Where do you think you’re putting that?”

Summary: Thomas and Avalon move in together. Thomas requests the kitchen be unpacked in a certain way. Avalon finds an old friend.

Two years, two months and six days before

It was nice to be back in Los Angeles. His year and a half in San Francisco had been surprisingly pleasant, but now Thomas was ready to return to the whirlwind world of film production.

But before that could happen, he and his partner had some unpacking to do.

They had returned to the house he had lived in before, but since he had taken most of his belongings with him, there was plenty of boxes to unpack, both his and Avalon’s.

Ever since they had unloaded the moving van, the two of them had went right to work putting things away. And now, with his office finished, Thomas decided it was time for a break. He stood up, stretching, and padded out of the room. He followed the sounds of dishware clinking together and leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, quietly watching as Avalon bustled around, putting the cookware away.

Avalon hummed along to the radio as he worked, some sappy country love song.

Thomas wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was starting to enjoy the genre. Something about Avalon’s deep, husky voice singing along to it made his heart flutter.

It wasn’t until Avalon reached up to put a casserole dish on the shelf above a cupboard that Thomas made his presence known.

“Where do you think you’re putting that?”

Thomas was not a short man. In fact, he was of perfectly average height.

However, these particular shelves happened to be a bit taller than he could reach. But at about a foot taller than Thomas, Avalon could reach them with ease.

Avalon looked at the dish in his hand, then at the shelf, then at Thomas. He reached over and turned the radio down. “Away,” he stated simply.

“That casserole dish does not belong up there. How do you expect I get it down?”

“Well, considering you’re too prideful to ask for help, I’d assume you’d climb onto the counter.” Avalon gave him a cheeky smirk. “How often do you use this, anyway?”

“Often enough,” Thomas retorted, lying.

Avalon tipped his head to the side, an eyebrow quirked up. “Mhm. Sure. You know, if you wanted the kitchen set up in a specific way, you should have said so before I started unpacking in here.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes, but sighed. Avalon wasn’t wrong, after all.

“Alright, grump,” Avalon said, putting the dish on the counter. “If you’re gonna be huffy about it, why don’t you come help me? We can figure this out together.” He crossed the room and extended his arm, wiggling his fingers at Thomas.

Thomas couldn’t help smiling, sighing again as he took Avalon’s hand.

Avalon grinned and tugged Thomas close, wrapping his other arm around Thomas’ waist. “Why don’t we take a small break first? We’ve been at this all day, and I miss you.”

“You miss me? I’ve been across the house the entire time.”

“Exactly. We’ve been in the same building, and I haven’t seen you at all. I’m allowed to miss you.”

“Drama queen.” Thomas reached up, placing a hand on Avalon’s jaw. He stretched up to kiss him gently. “... I missed you too.”

Avalon smiled again, something soft and bashful. “Yeah?”

“I find your company rather… pleasant.”

“High praise from the Thomas Hunt. I thought you didn’t compliment people.”

“I suppose there are some exceptions to that, especially when I am only stating the truth. You are a pleasant person to be around.”

“So you don’t regret it?”

Thomas blinked. “Regret what?”

“Bringing me here, to LA. You have a whole life here, are you sure I’ll fit?”

“Of course you will. I didn’t have much of a life outside of film before meeting you. You’ve broadened my horizons. You belong here, Avalon. With me.”

“I--” Avalon’s voice caught in his throat. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and raspy. “I love you, Thomas.”

“I love you, too,” Thomas murmured, pulling Avalon down for another kiss.

And another.

After the kitchen was properly unpacked to Thomas’ standards, he and Avalon silently decided to stay working together in each room, not wanting to leave the other for too long again.

Thomas was moving clothes to a dresser when he heard Avalon gasp quietly.

“Oh, hello! Who is this? Frog?”

Thomas turned quickly, just in time to see Avalon gently lift a small, well-loved stuffed Frog out of a box, holding it as if it were the most fragile thing he had handled all day.

Thomas felt his face burn as he stormed across the room. “It’s nothing! Put him down!”

“I don’t think I will!” Avalon lifted the toy above his head. “I’ve never seen him before. Did you have him hidden away the entire time you were in San Francisco? That’s not very nice to do to an old friend!”

“I had to put him away! I was worried about-- what- you would… think… of me having him…” He tapered off, looking away. “It’s stupid, never mind.”

Avalon blinked and lowered the toy. “I don’t think it’s stupid. I know people can be… mean about having toys after growing up, but I think it’s really sweet you still have him. It’s obvious you love him a lot.” He offered the toy to Thomas, who took it gingerly, cradling it in his arms. “Besides, it’d be really dickish of me to think otherwise. Hypocritical, I mean. Wait here.”

Before Thomas can say anything else, Avalon is out of the room.

And before he can think anything else, Avalon returned, a little stuffed Toad in his arms, just as loved and well-worn as Thomas’ Frog. “I think your Frog could use another friend in his life.”

Thomas looked at Avalon, then the Toad in his hands, and then down at the Frog in his. He cleared his throat. “That’s fine,” he murmured.

“I also think they deserve to have somewhere nice to live, instead of being forgotten in a box somewhere.” Avalon plucked Frog from Thomas’ hands, then went over to the dresser Thomas had just been standing at. He placed Frog and Toad on the top, adjusting them to lean on each other so they wouldn’t fall down. Frog’s arm around Toad. He nodded, pleased with his work. “There. What do you think?”

“S’okay,” Thomas said quietly. He stood next to Avalon, leaning against his side.

Avalon wrapped an arm around him and held tight. “I’m glad they have each other now.”

Thomas gazed up at Avalon. “...Yeah. Me too.”

#Red Carpet Diaries #prompt fill #please be prompt #ficlet #thomas hunt x mc #oc: Avalon Hammond #Thomas Hunt #gut's fics

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.

Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.

Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.

Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.

But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.

Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.

She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.

So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.

A long way home was awaiting her.

And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”

It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.

When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.

The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.

But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.

She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.

She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.

“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.

Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.

“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”

Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.

“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”

“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”

“Squad Leader…”

“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.

In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.

And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.

Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.

But she was alone in that bed.

There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.

There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.

A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.

She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.

She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.

But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.

He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.

Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.

If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.

“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.

He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.

In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.

Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.

“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”

Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.

There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.

Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.

Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—

She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.

“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”

Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.

These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.

“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”

She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”

“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”

“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”

“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”

“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”

She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.

“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”

“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”

Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?

She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”

“It is. It always will.”

The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.

A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.

“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.

___

Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.

Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.

But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.

This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.

“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”

“You always have been heroes.”

You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.

“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”

The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”

Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”

Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.

“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”

Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.

“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.

Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.

Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”

The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…

The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?

“He actually wrote so?”

“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”

Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.

“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.

“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”

Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.

“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.

Not like she did.

Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.

Sina’s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.

Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.

“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”

He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”

Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.

“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”

Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”

Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.

Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”

“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”

Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.

What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?

Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.

___

Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.

The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.

Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…

Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”

“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.

Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.

The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.

But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.

“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”

“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”

“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”

So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.

“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”

Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."

Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?

Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?

"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"

"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"

Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.

___

For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.

The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.

Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.

"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.

If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.

As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.

All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.

At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.

But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.

"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."

Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.

She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?

Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."

"I have—"

"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."

"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"

Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.

"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.

Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."

Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.

Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.

___

Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.

Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.

"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"

"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,

"Hange and I have been working together before."

"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"

"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.

"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."

"Nice ones, I hope?"

The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"

"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."

"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."

Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.

"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.

"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.

"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.

Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.

"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"

"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."

"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."

Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"

"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."

"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.

"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"

"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"

Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.

"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.

"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.

Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"

Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."

"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."

"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."

"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?

"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."

"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."

Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.

"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."

Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.

"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."

Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.

“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”

In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.

Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.

“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”

That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”

“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”

That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.

Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,

“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”

Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”

It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.

“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.

But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.

“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”

“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”

That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.

“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.

“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”

Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?

Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.

But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.

She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—

And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.

She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—

A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.

It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—

"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"

She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.

"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.

Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.

___

"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."

His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."

Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."

"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"

She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.

Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.

But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.

Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.

On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.

And so the shadow finally took form.

Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.

At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.

"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"

Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."

Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.

"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"

Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"

"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"

"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”

Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”

Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.

But what would she do?

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."

After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.

However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.

Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?

Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—

She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.

Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?

It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.

Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.

And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.

But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.

There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.

Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.

She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.

She just needed to give him a little push.

“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”

Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.

The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

#does someone still remember that fic? i for sure had almost forgotten about it jdfsdkhgsjgh #levihan

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yunhowhat · 3 years ago

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Authors notes: I usually only write on wattpad but I want to write a cute soft Mark Lee smut.

If you would like to read my longer stories go check out my Wattpad: YUNHOwhat

WARNINGS: Smut, Bareback (unprotected), trans bodies (FTM with top surgery), car sex, head, fingering.

Before anyone @'s me for making the MC Trans, I am trans so it's written from my perspective. Though I will write ones in the future that aren't from a Trans perspective. For the male pet names and things just imagine them as female if it makes it easier ♡

✈︎𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐿𝑒𝑒 - 𝐴 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔✈︎

A long drive, longer than normal.

The cool autumn breeze, blowing spirals of leaves around the empty streets in the darkness of the night as Mark and I drove through the suburban suburbs.

"How long until we get there?" My voice was hoarse from staying silent for so long, Mark however had been singing along to the radio the entire time. "What was that? Sorry I didn't quite catch it..." I leaned forward and grabbed a nearly empty water bottle from the glove box of the car.

After quenching my thirst I cleared my throat and repeated my question to the man sitting next to me.

"Oh...ah not to long just a few more blocks" he smiled lovingly as one of his hands slid across the top of my thigh, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Mark" I squeeked out, the sudden contact of his hand against my bare skin sent a flaming desire through out my body. I didn't know I could feel like this so suddenly, the sudden urge to cross the console and straddle mark had completely taken over my mind. "Y/N?" He asked, his innocent eyes scanning me as his grip on my thigh loosened. Instead his hand was now rubbing small circles against my skin as he waited to make sure I was okay.

"Mark..I" the queasy moan left my lips as goosebumps appeared on my skin under Mark's touch.

His eyes widened in realisation buy instead of removing his hand, he slid his long fingers down my thigh. Placing himself between my thighs and curling his fingers up to meet my aching chore.

"Is this what you wanted baby boy?" He hummed in satisfaction as light whimpers echoed through the car.

"M..m...more" I stuttered out, begging him for something more. "Mmm but you look so good whimpering under my touch" his now husky voice spoke as his fingers pressed further into the crotch of my pants. Lightly skimming over the area of my clit and sending me into a whimpering mess.

"Mark please" I shifted in my seat, turning to face him my flushed face making him groan as I begged for him. "You're being a tease" he mumbled as he removed his hand from between my thighs causing a dissatisfied moan to leave my lips.

"Mark!! Pretty please" I leaned forward and kissed his jaw lightly as he continued to drive down the empty street.

We were lucky that there wasn't any traffic on the roads when marks gaze was fixated on me instead of the road.

As I trailed kisses along his jaw I noticed the hardening strain of his pants and decided to lightly skim the tips of my fingers across his aching member. Hearing a throaty groan leave Marks throat as his Adams apple bobbed up and down.

"Baby...I'm driving" however his body disagreed with his words as his hips bucked upwards to meet my hand.

This time is was my turn to bask in the sight of Mark whimpering under my touch. The way his hips would buck up to create more friction between his hardened cock and my hand.

Pressing down onto his crotch I began unzipping his trousers, slipping my hand into and rubbing the outer of his boxers. The action earned me a satisfactory moan, the sweetness of his voice filling my ears.

[Head/Blowjob warning, skip to where the stars are if uncomfortable with this part]

"Baby more..." his voice hitched in his throat as I pulled his member out of his boxers and pants, exposing him to the cool air around us. Mark sucked in a harsh breath as a placed my lips against his tip, kissing it a few times before taking his length in my mouth.

"So warm" marks free hand rested on the back of my head as I began moving my head up and down, taking him whole.

The length of his cock causing me to halter my speed a bit as he hit the back of my throat.

"So fucking beautiful" Mark said as he began pulling over to an empty parking lot. "I'm going to put the chair back, okay baby?" He warned as he ushered me up and off from around his dick.

✩✩✩

Pushing his seat back he helped me over the centre console of the car and onto his lap. My legs placed on either side of him as he pulled me into a sweet passionate kiss.

Our lips moving against each other's as the sound of rain beginning to fall rang outside the car. Our muffled moans filling the car as sweat dripped off our foreheads. Mark moved his hands between my thighs once more, slipping his fingers between my folds as he teased my entrance.

My hips bucked forward as I begged him for more friction, his lips trailing down my neck as I let loud moans slip through my teeth. "Fuck Mark" my hands reach up behind his head, gripping his hair and giving it a light tugg as his teeth grazed over my skin.

He sucked against my jawline, nipping at it every so often before pulling away, satisfied with his actions.

"You look so fucking beautiful with my marks on you" he placed his lips back against my own, our tongues dancing together as he pumped his fingers in and our of my dripping core.

Having slid two fingers in already, he began to rub circles against my clit with his thumb as his other two fingers continued their steady pace inside of me.

The sounds of my moans filling Mark's mouth as we shared a heated, passionate make-out session.

"Mark...I...I'm..."

"I know Y/n, baby...go ahead, cum all over my fingers. I want to see your beautiful face when you do" his deep voice sounded scratchy as he watched me ride his fingers.

"Mark" I screamed out as my walls began to clench around Mark's fingers. The creaminess of my cum sticking to Mark's fingers as he removed them from my aching core and bring them up to his mouth.

Sucking his fingers off, he eyes me down. Drinking in my exhausted appearance after having came all over his hand.

His hands travels underneath my shirt, pulling it up and throwing it off, followed by the shorts I had been wearing.

"You ready?" He asked, gesturing to his still hard cock, sprung up against his stomach. The swollen redness of his tip making it obvious he had been holding back.

I nodded slowly with anticipation as I checked Mark's body out, up and down my eyes trailed before finally meeting Mark's gaze.

"Good" he smirked as his hands squeezed my hips, ushering me onto his cock. The wetness from my previous orgasm making it easier for him to slide in, the length of his member reaching deep inside me.

As his hands began to guide me up and back down, Mark sat back and watched as his hands trailed my body.

His fingertips trailing underneath my surgical scars that laid beneath my chest...

"Beautiful" he muttered as I continued to move my hips up and down. His hands wrapping around my back as he leaned forward and placed soft kisses along the scars that bared my chest.

His soft lips leaving a wet trail and he moved across my bare skin. Mumbled 'beautiful' after each kiss, our hips crashing against each other as the two of us reached a point of bliss.

The two of us reaching our orgasm's, Mark releasing inside of me as my walls clenched around his cock.

Our cum mixing together as our lips mashed and hands roamed each other's bodies.

"Y/N...I love you so fucking much" he grumbled against my lips as the two of us came down from our highs.

The night time air taking over as we laid together, enjoying the company of one another before we had to head off to our destination.

Love...its a beautiful thing.

A pleasurable thing.

✈︎𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐿𝑒𝑒 - 𝐴 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔✈︎

-𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑌𝑈𝑁𝐻𝑂𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡

#nct 127 #nct mark #nct smut #mark lee #nct dream #nct #nct u smut #kpop #kpop boys #kpop smut #x reader #mark lee imagines

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libradusk · 4 years ago

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Utterly Devoted | Kix

Word Count: 4,370

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x Reader

Summary: You and Kix demonstrate to each other just how deep your devotion lies

Warnings: Explicit smut, tender sex with lots of feeeeeelings because I’ve made this man suffer through the previous chapter, eating pussy as a thank you gift because why the fuck not is there really a better way to start your morning when you’re stuck in the middle of a shitty war, some soft pillow talk to top it all off.

a/n: This is a belated bday gift to @morganas-pendragons! Hope you enjoy the Kix pipe hehe

Its also a continuation from this chapter of my Touch Starved series, consider this the smutty sequel that touches on some of the events that happened the night before.

Tagging: @thatonesakudere, @kaminobiwan and @simping-for-fives (Send me a message if you wanna be tagged in any of my future fics!)

The first thing you notice when you awaken is how groggy you feel, it's as if there is a solid weight pressed against your body and mind, it fights with your half-delirious state of being in an attempt to drag you back down to slumber.

The second thing that dawns on you is that you are not dreaming and there is indeed a heavy weight slung over your chest, but his name is Kix, and he’s currently snoring into your shoulder with the rest of him draped around you like a loth-cat in a sunbeam. He’s also currently dominating the majority of the bed space, which was cramped to begin with, yet you can’t help but smile and relent into the warmth he offers with little more than a roll of your eyes that he won’t see.

It's just nice to see him so peaceful. You can’t confidently recall the last time you had seen him with anything less than a crease to his brow, and a sleep-deprived scowl poisoning his handsome face in the rare moments he allowed his composure to slip. This is nice, it's warm and safe and feels like home for you both despite the hell you had both endured barely a full 10 hours earlier. You’re determined to grasp onto this ribbon of tranquillity for as long as the galaxy permits you to.

The buckling pain that bites down your side when you twist too suddenly to get a better look at him is a painful reminder of that. You force it down in order to run a gentle touch over his cheekbone as he too begins to stir awake, as if the bond you have forged has demanded that he too be pulled from his slumber to meet the morning air alongside you. Two violet rings of exhaustion circle under his eyes as they flutter open to meet your own. Your fingers glide to brush against the one decorating his left socket on impulse. It takes a moment for him to swallow down his disorientation before his vision focuses completely. You note the spark of confusion that flashes across his expression before it dawns on him that no, this isn’t a dream and yes - you are settled in his arms in the same position you had been the previous night when he had curled into your chest until his tears had ceased soaking your shirt’s fabric.

There's a hint of shame that trickles into those tired eyes then and you smile openly in the hope that it will quash any guilt squirming in his gut before it forces him to voice it.

“Good morning, my love.” The sound of your voice is soft and still swaddled with drowsiness. It still manages to pull the corners of his own lips into a sleepy smile, and there's a twinkle in his honey-coloured gaze as his eyes open wider now. The sight of it settles oddly in your stomach, it's the first time he’s looked like himself in a while, the realisation of that fact hurts a little, but you try to focus on the happiness that bubbles alongside it instead.

You’re both alive and you’re together - you’re lucky in so many ways to be squashed into this tiny GAR-issued cot with the man you love. It’s a privilege so many others would kill for, and right now all you want to do is sink into him and forget all about your injury and the God-forsaken war that has caused it.

You lean forward to press a kiss against his forehead, right where the crease of his frown usually sits - thankfully, it's absent this morning, replaced by a honeyed mixture of amusement and adoration as his eyes drift over the sleepy bliss that dances upon your face.

“Good morning yourself.” He waits until you pull away to speak, words tumbling out in a deep purr. They catch in his throat before he clears it of any remaining evidence that indicates he had spent the previous evening crying in both relief and frustration at your situation.

You thread your fingers around the back of his skull to stoke across the seam where his hairline meets his nape. The action is meant to be comforting, but it appears to stoke something deeper in his eyes as he sighs into the contact, tilting his head back in such a way that makes the rumble that echoes through his throat all the more prominent. Kix attempts to keep the lazy smirk on his face as he peers at you through heavy, dark eyelashes, but there's a hazy lust swimming beneath them now. It pairs itself beautifully with the spread of blush peppering his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The whole combination taints his attempt at playing off his bravado with an unmistakable bashfulness that has you smiling even wider against the pace of your own quickening heartbeat.

Your fingers continue to wind teasing little circles down his neck as you still to watch his reaction, lying in wait and thinly veiled curiosity to see what his next move would be. Kix watches you with just as much intensity, tongue jutting out to wet his lips for a moment as his blush grows darker under your touch. His grip around your middle flexes with uncertainty as he cocks an eyebrow when you drag your hand down to rest on his shoulder, digits drumming against the muscle in silent anticipation.

The air between you has shrugged away it's quiet serenity now, what has sunk in to replace it is much more charged, but still apprehensive of crossing the final line with the fear that the other was not completely open to the idea of embracing it, considering all that had unfurled the night before.

He kisses you then, shattering it. The press of his lips is hungry, and carries a hint of the same desperation they had tasted of the previous evening when he’d told you he loved you between the salty bite of tears and yearning. But even so, this is different, because he’s yours and the pain attached to his confession feels long spilled now. By the second time your lips meet, you’re openly sighing into his mouth and you catch the hitch in his own breath as you do so. The fire is all but blazing in his brown eyes when you finally part, though you only get the chance to stare completely into its flames for a moment before he’s pushing himself up to loom over you, fastening you down against the mattress with little more than the press of his hand against your own beside your head.

“How about I help you wake up properly, hmm?” Gone is the tiredness in his tone. His voice reaches you in a husky, thickened wave that wraps down your spine in a shiver. A quiet giggle of delight leaves you as you stare upwards at him, and his smile cracks wider to reach his eyes at your reaction. It sings of the old Kix, the real Kix, and that knowledge warms your heart even deeper than where mere lust could ever hope to reach it. There's still a nagging hint of concern tugging at the corner of your soul however, even despite the heat licking between your thighs at the thought of having him completely. It reminds you that you’re still concerned about his well being considering everything he had endured as of late, as well as the fact you were very much still sore from your own physical injury. Kix seems to read your thoughts because in the second of silence that separates the two of you, his expression softens in time with his voice.

“I’ll be gentle with you, I want this too, so much.”

Another kiss, this one soft and prolonged, whispering adoration and assurance into the very heart of you.

“I love you.”

You seize the forbidden fruit and completely melt into his embrace.

The next thing you know, you’re stripped bare and writhing beneath him as he kisses his way down between your thighs. He’s attentive to each catch of your breath and the buck of your hips when one of his hands ghosts over a particularly sensitive patch of skin in the dip of your hip bone. You have to remind yourself to breathe each time his lips edge further down your torso, the muscles of your abdomen rippling beneath his teasing caresses and the fan of his breath as he chuckles to himself at how you squirm at the slightest indication of him travelling lower, towards where you crave him most. Kix is as naked as you are, having wasted little time tearing off his blacks alongside each article of clothing he stripped away from your own body. His hand was quick to recapture your own in its grasp once he had you exposed to his satisfaction. Your fingers remain caged amidst his own, held hostage while his other hand continues to grope and explore the expanse of your flesh, only breaking their journey to bat away your own free hand each time you reach out to attempt to grasp at him.

“Ah, ah, ah, nope,” His voice is playfully frustrating as he reprimands you, another chuckle slipping through it when you finally relent and flop down in exasperation at his refusal to let you touch him in return, “this is about you, lay back and let me take care of you, cyare.”

You’re about to clap back at him with a sarcastic rebuttal when the sensation of his breath over your core rips any remaining shred of coherency from you. You briefly register him mutter something about ‘thanking you for everything’ and the feeling of him hauling one of your thighs over his shoulder before the sound of your own moaning echoes in your ears. It forces you to clamp your trembling free hand over your mouth in an attempt to keep your noises of delight secret from the rest of the base. It’s counterpart remains laced with his own as he pulls it down to rest near your hip and squeezes it reassuringly to ground you both from floating away with the clouds of lust permeating the room.

Kix groans against your folds as he drags his tongue over your clit in long, drawn out stripes, clearly revelling in the taste and slickness coating his lips. You can feel the scratch of his stubble brush against your inner thigh with each movement of his jaw and it only heightens the fire spreading across your nerves further. It takes a good minute before you can find the strength to push yourself up to lock eyes with him from where he’s stationed between your legs, the heavy-lidded expression decorating his face only pushing you further towards your peak. He looks positively love-struck as he lathes his tongue against your cunt, relentlessly switching between circling your clit and teasing the tip of the slick muscle inside of your entrance in such a way that has you seeing stars once your head tilts back once more, never quite letting you adjust to one pattern before catching you off guard with another. You lift your hips and grind against the pressure his tongue lavishes on you, chest heaving with the threat of a quickly approaching climax, one that’s only spurred on further when Kix’s chest rumbles with a shuddering moan as your slick runs down his chin and onto the sheets below.

It's dizzying almost, and he has you sobbing and babbling sweet nonsense into the pillows when your first orgasm hits you with a shock that threatens your vision white. Kix remains between your legs even as you begin to come down from your high, rubbing soothing circles into the twitching flesh of your thigh as you take in heavy gasps of warm air to steady your breathing.

“You ok there, cyare?” The warmth bubbles upwards to your chest once you register the care cradled in his words.

“-Mmhmm,” You’re more than ok, despite the tremble in your legs you feel fucking elated after his display of ‘gratitude’, but the intensity of your orgasm has left you feeling so dazed it takes a substantial deal of effort to simply nod your head as you remain slumped against the pillows and crumpled sheets.

Kix waits patiently for you to regain composure, his fingers dancing over your hip now as he admires you in your afterglow. You suddenly feel a little shy, spread out, spent and wet beneath where he cranes over you, but the feeling quickly fades as fast as it surfaces because it's Kix and he makes you feel safer than anyone else in the universe.

“I’m great, actually,” Your voice is somewhat raspy from the strain of your moaning, but Kix still grins at you like you’ve just serenaded him instead. The sight of it flusters your words all over again, “‘wanna - want to make you feel good too though, want you, Kix.”

His blush deepens further as the air appears to leave his lungs through his nose at your blunt confession. He swallows thickly, and you can see the remnants of your wetness glistening around his mouth in the dim light.

Now it's your turn to smirk.

He’s lost for words for a moment before he can bring himself to crash down and kiss you again. This time you can taste yourself on his lips and the knowledge of what you’ve shared only makes you groan louder and buck your hips against him, finally released from the cage of his bicep around your thigh. You can feel the length of his cock, hot and heavy and desperate as it skims against your stomach and smears a trail of precum across your skin. His hands remain planted at either side of your head, holding his weight up on his forearms so as not to crush you or potentially aggravate your injury any further. The care he takes in handling you softens your heart, but you note the hesitation stiffening his muscles.

“...Hey,” your tone is as soft as your eyes as you reach up to cup his cheek and force his gaze to yours, marvelling in the way the heat of his body so quickly envelops your own, “I’m not going to break. It’s already healing thanks to the bacta so you don’t need to worry. Please.”

“...Ok.” He keens into your touch as you once again rake your fingernails over the seam of where his tattoo meets his hairline, you make a mental note to remember the reaction such a mindless gesture draws from him. When his eyes reopen to lock with yours, they’re practically swimming with a gilded stream of desire. “I love you.”

You don’t have a chance to repeat the declaration back to him before the words are stolen from you and replaced by a stuttering moan as he pushes into you. Your head hits the pillow the same moment he bites a mark into the curve of your throat and stills his hips against yours, completely submerged within your cunt until his pelvis kisses your own. You both moan in tandem as you flutter around him, split open and stretched in the most delicious way with his pubic bone grazing your clit.

You’re sure you hear him bite down on a whimper as you give an experimental buck of your hips, his eyes closing the moment you wrap your legs around his middle to force him impossibly closer still. Kix’s hands fist the sheets beside your head, and you’re confident you’ve never seen a man look more beautiful than he does in this moment. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and you crane your neck upwards to press a kiss to his chin, a silent plea for him to move and drag another wave of pleasure from your body. Broad hands fly to cup your face the moment he begins a slow pace inside you, the weight of his body falling to his elbows as his eyes snap open to watch for your reactions. He feels incredible, pulling out nearly all the way before snapping his hips back to meet your own each time in long, deep thrusts that have you moaning obscenely each time he comes to the end of you. He steals each sound from your lips with a series of sloppy open mouthed kisses, showering you in stumbled words of praise in a mixture of basic and mando’a.

The bed creaks beneath the force of your bodies, and at this point you’ve all but abandoned your attempts to keep quiet in favour of whispering just how much you love him and how good he makes you feel. You cling to his shoulders as he fucks you deeper into the mattress, holding onto him just as tightly as he does to you - it's a wordless promise that you aren’t going to disappear and abandon him, that you’re his as much as he’s yours.

“-Feel so good, so good to me cyare, always been so good to me-” his gritted-out praise tightens the coil in your stomach and all too soon you feel the familiar creep of another orgasm approaching you. His hands skim over your chest, stomach, face, before settling themselves with one cradling the back of your head whilst the other snakes downward to rub at your clit in tight little circles that have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

His praises fall off into a string of hurried curses as his hips begin to stutter to an erratic pace, however, his eyes never leave your own all the while. His jaw is clenched tightly, pulled taunt like the muscles in his arms as he angles his thrusts to drag against something delicious within your walls that has you mewling in delight. Despite the intensity of his actions, he’s still so gentle, so attentive in how he handles you. Ever vigilant to note each reaction you make to his touches and taking care not to jostle your still-healing body too violently.

“Fuuuck… Fuck! I love you - look so pretty like this, so perfect - just wanna stay like this forever.” His words are borderline incoherent now as he resigns to losing himself inside you, punctuated by rattling groans and a sigh that gets knotted in his throat as the emotion of the moment washes over him time and time again with each thrust.

The moment he dips down to moan into your open mouth as he sheathes himself completely to the hilt once more, you let go. You topple over the edge into a second orgasm that's so strong that it tears a silent scream from your lungs and forces fresh, hot tears of relief to gather in the corner of your eyes, body and mind wrecked in unison from the over stimulation of it all.

Kix follows you into climax straight after, succumbing to the way you tighten and flutter around him as he attempts to fuck you through your orgasm until your toes are curling against where they rest on his lower back. His hips falter and he all but whines as he stills inside you abruptly, eyes finally screwing themselves shut as he pulses within you and paints your insides in thick, hot ropes. He keeps your lower body close against him even after his breathing begins to even out and his cum has long since began to drip out of you from around his softening cock.

You feel thoroughly spent now, limbs heavy and head spinning with the force of the orgasm that had just claimed you. Kix is the first to shift properly, withdrawing from you slowly with a kiss and a low groan that you feel more than you hear. The medic takes a moment to give you a quick visual once over, but you swat at his shoulder in mock annoyance despite the fatigue clinging to your joints. He relents, flopping down beside you and taking up an embrace the mirrors the one you had awoken tangled within that same morning.

“I love you.” You swallow thickly around the words as you gaze at him, despite the lull of your afterglow, they come easily to you and you relish in how normal it feels to say them, to be held in his arms as if you were the only two souls awake in some private little galaxy you had created together. “I love you and I want to stay like this forever with you, Kix.”

His eyes hold a different tiredness now, this one is satisfied and soulful and free from worry - at least for a little while. You hope that this happiness lasts for him, he deserves it more than anyone else you know.

“I love you more, mesh’la.” His fingers reach up to brush against your cheek before pulling you in for a tender kiss, humming in contentment before parting slightly to mutter against your lips, “m’just sorry I don’t have much more to offer you than my charming looks, taste in brandy and my unofficial record for being the fastest at stitching up an incision in the whole GAR.”

You snort into his neck in response to the ridiculous quip before nuzzling your nose against his pulse. He squirms a little at the tickle of your breath against him and you make another point to remember the location of the sensitive spot for a later date.

“But honestly,” his tone drops to something more serious and your eyes wander back to lock with his own, a ghost of a frown pulling at your brow at the change, “you’ve always had to put up with a lot when it comes to me… you’re only going to have to deal with more where loving me is involved-”

“Kix, stop.” You’re firm as you catch his hand in your own, squeezing it to stress the finality of your statement before gracing his knuckles with another light kiss, “Nothing is easy at the moment and loving you is the one thing that's come so naturally to me. I don’t want anyone else because simple or not, they aren’t you.”

He smiles, wide and true before he begins to slowly encroach towards you to steal another kiss-

Until the shrill beep of your comlink shocks you both apart.

You shoot the device a glare, grumbling in annoyance as you untangle yourself from Kix to fish the offending item out from where your clothes lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. He chuckles into his fist and you give him a sideways glance in warning before raising the comlink closer to your face, winching slightly at the brightness flashing from the thin strip of its display.

“Hello?” The annoyance bleeds into your voice before you can think to stop it, a cold pang of panic shoots through you at the realisation that you forgot to check who it was contacting you before accepting the transmission.

“Good morning, am I right to assume that Kix is with you currently? It’s just that he was supposed to be present in the medical bay this morning to relieve me from my shift and yet here I am still - and I happened to bump into a trooper that claimed he saw you bundle him into your room yesterday evening.” It’s Officer Eir, and judging by the dryness coating his tone, he’s in a foul mood and more than aware of why Kix is late to tend to his duties despite the concern he had shown towards your lover the evening prior. You suppose the lack of sleep would do that to anyone.

Your cheeks automatically swelter with heat, quickly beginning to regret trusting the Medical Officer with the closeness of your bond with Kix. The man in question looks mortified at the circumstances he’s found himself in, but he still cockily mentions for you to tell Eir ‘hi’ despite fully knowing that the irritated clone could easily hear him over the line. You can envision Eir’s deadpan blink from all the way over in the medical ward.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I even wasted my time thinking about calling Kix first. I’m glad that you made sure he wasn’t alone last night, but need I remind him that stimshots are too important to waste on a hangover… or any other activity related fatigue that doesn't benefit the Republic.” You hear a sigh from over the comlink, the digital rendering making it sound crackled and disjointed - but it still makes you feel as though you’ve been singled out for committing a heinous crime all the same. “...I’ve taken the liberty of finding him a spare pair of scrubs, because I know he won’t want to risk returning to his bunk late while there are Jedi milling around.”

Kix raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, clearly touched that his fellow medic took the time to cover for him despite no doubt being desperate to lay down his head and rest.

“Um, yeah ok Eir I’ll… pass on that information to him - goodbye.”

You’ve never hung up on a call so quickly, and you hope to the Maker that no one had somehow managed to intercept your communication line. Kix still carries a bashful flush of his own, but it doesn’t stop him from grinning boyishly before another quip leaves his lips.

“Should’ve told him that I’ve already eaten breakfast too, bet that would have flustered him even more than you.”

The comment earns him a sweaty pillow to the face.

You still send him on his way with a ration bar all the same, taking a silent delight in how unsteady his initial movements are when he rushes to slip out of your door and down the hallway. He flashes you a wink and the hint of a loving gaze before slipping back into the role of a disciplined soldier once more as his long legs carry him away.

After he’s gone, you take a moment of private reflection to delight in how your spirit seems lighter and your heart feels fuller than it did yesterday.

Cyare.

You would never grow tired of hearing that fall from his lips.

#kix x reader #kix #kix reader insert #clone wars reader insert #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #touch starved #WOO HERE IT IS #my first full length smut fic #mine #this got soft

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txemrn · 4 years ago

Text

Hey, sweet friends!

I inadvertently took a smidge of a step back from writing thanks to real life (you all can relate!). Between Covid relief (9 months later *wink*wink* 🤰🏼🤰🏼🤰🏼) and a crazy ❄⛄SNOW⛄❄ storm here in Texas, writing took that metaphorical backseat.

But I'm here, and I've got some WIPs I'd love to share with y'all... who's ready for WIP Wednesday? Click "Keep Reading" to enjoy five bits of fics I've been writing (the fourth and fifth are bonuses that I have NO idea when they will be released; they are for your amusement, to tease you a bit *shrugs* or something like that).

Before I continue... @lucy-268 @anjanettexcordonia @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @shannonsaid @khoicesbyk @shewillreadyou @irisofpurple @lem-20 what are y'all working on?

The Missionary’s Daughter (Chapter 1--Name TBD; TRR) 🍋

Halos of blurred auras bleach his vision as Drake cautiously opens one blood-shot eye. His tongue sticks to the roof of his roughly parched mouth as he massages his pained forehead. Clueless of what day it is--much less what he did last night--he is greeted with a sudden glorious sensation: a supple wet mouth on his hardened morning length.

His body relaxes back onto the dampened, disheveled sheets of his bed; he releases a pleasurable exhale as he blindly reaches for the head behind the lips. He strains to focus his view, but can only make out a foggy shape of a nude woman with long, tousled brunette waves.

Of course, it’s her.

Drake smiles; delicately tangling his grip in her strands, he admires how even the afternoon sun catches her beauty perfectly. He quietly smacks his lips. He can still smell her on his stubble; he can still taste her on his tongue.

Did she come clean to Liam? Were they celebrating that they could finally be together?

As she takes in the head of his girth, he arches his back, relaxing his body into her hungry touch. Closing his eyes, he offers a guttural groan deep in his chest as she swirls her tongue around his firm thickness.

“God, you’re incredible, Riley--”

------------------------------- Caroline (Chapter 3--Name TBD; TNA/OH crossover)

"Hello? Anyone here?" Her voice echoes throughout the Dalton penthouse as she pushes the stroller further into the living room.

A stirring Mason catches her attention as she cautiously bends over to settle him down.

"It's okay, um--" she looks at his monogrammed onesie for his name, "--’Mason’. Come here, sweet boy," she snuggles him into her neck, soothing him with gentle rubs and taps on his back. "There, there."

"Sof?"

The platinum blonde instantly twirls around to face the deep voice as she grips tightly around Mason.

"Oh, Sam--" she sighs with a forced laugh. "You scared me--"

"Is Caroline with you?" he stutters as he finishes his whiskey neat.

"No, um--" she bounces Mason on her hip, averting her eyes to a yawning Mickey. "She--she should be back sometime this evening though. I--I don't know--"

"Is--" he interjects, his voice growing husky, "--is Robin here?" Sofia feels the prickling of a thousand goosebumps ignite across her body as Sam's hand glides across her lower back. She clears her throat, stepping away from him.

"C'mon, my little munchkins," she joyfully chimes to the twins as she gathers Mickey into her arms. She sits them softly into their play pin, tossing each of them a musical toy.

As she stands back up, Sam grips tightly to the curve of her hips

"Sam--!" she gasps as he intimately runs his hands across her abdomen to rest on her voluptuous breasts. Her eyes flutter shut; she nibbles on her lips as he nuzzles his nose into her neck. She feels him grow against her backside.

"Sam, please--"

"'Please' what, kitten?"

"Ugh--" she scoffs as she throws his hands off of her body. "We said that the last time would be our last--"

"Please, Sofia, " he stops her in her tracks, "I need--" his lip trembles; liquor dances on his tongue as he leans closer to her dangerous curves. "I need--"

"--your wife."

"Fuck!" He abruptly throws himself onto the couch, raking his hands through his thick, tousled hair.

"I'm losing her, Sof." He leans back on the couch as Sofia cautiously sits next to him. Heated tears streak down his chiseled face as he plays with his wedding band. He lowers his voice as he chokes on his sobs.

"I think I've lost her. "

-------------------------- Boughs & Mockingbirds (Part 5; TRR/TRH)

After modeling three dresses, Hana twirls out in a dreamy white ball gown with a flattering fitted-bodice. The ornate gold filigree bead-work brought out her natural ethereal tones, instantly brightening and highlighting her gorgeous, exotic features.

“Hana--!” Riley spits out her sparkling water. “Oh-- oh my God!” With a stunned-look plastered on her face, she jumps from her bed, skipping quickly to her floor-length mirror. “Look at you!”

“I’m guessing this is a keeper?” Hana giggles as she walks on her tip-toes, envisioning the dress with her new shoes.

“Uh, yeah!” Riley squeals, twirling Hana’s silky hair into a make-shift up-do to show off her bare skin. Biting her lower lip, she lowers her voice to whisper into her friend’s ear: “Not to mention, a certain ‘Maxwell the Glorious’ won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”

“Riley! You’re wicked! We’re just--” she blushes while shrugging her shoulders, “--um, friends.”

“I’m pregnant, not stupid,” she jokingly chides. “These past few weeks with the book tour, I’ve noticed you two becoming quite the dynamic duo.”

Hana falls silent; she mindlessly admires the beading of her white gown with her fingers as a joyous smile crawls across her face. Her bright, brown eyes pierce into Riley’s as she slowly nods.

“He’s pretty great--”

“I knew it!” Riley grabs Hana’s hands as they dance recklessly in a circle, laughter filling the room.

“Oh, you’re gonna dance with somebody--” Riley sings, purposely changing the lyrics to jest with her best friend.

“I’m gonna feel the heat with somebody--” Hana cups her mouth, laughing at herself with what she just sang.

“’Heat’?” Riley howls. “Ow! Ow! Now who’s being wicked?” They both grab their bellies as their sides ache from their silliness and excitement.

“Oh gosh,” Riley strains to breathe, “Thank you, Hana. I haven’t laughed like this in--”

“Oh my God! Riley?” Hana’s voice suddenly drips with panic. “Your nose--” ------------------------ Fractals (Bonus wannabe series; crossover of Platinum/TRR; I have fantasized about this series for probably 8 MONTHS, and I finally took off writing a chapter; this is a smidge of that chapter, and this series will come, at the earliest, after B&MB)

“Here’s to living in the headlines,” she mutters to herself, offering her glass as a toast in the air. She tosses the rest of her drink back. The bartender quickly replenishes the alcohol as she digs frantically in her oversized Dior bag. Pulling out a lone cigarette, she sets it neatly between her teeth as she searches for a lighter.

“Miss?” a soft, baritone voice calls to her, but floats away as she continues to sift through her purse. The gentleman clears his throat in hopes of catching her attention. “Pardon me, miss?” His thick, European-influenced accent is more apparent this time, but still she doesn’t notice.

“Excuse me, miss--?”

“What?” She interrupts angrily as she hastily swivels in her barstool, knocking her bag and its contents on the floor. “Shit--!” she clumsily fumbles to the floor to gather her belongings.

“Here; let me help--”

“You’ve done enough, sir--” she cuts off the young man as she madly shoves tubes of makeup, magazines, loose coins and scrunchies back into her satchel. She looks around the floor for any wayward items when she notices something black being offered to her.

“Miss?”

Looking up, she finally takes notice of the man behind the voice. And freezes. The electricity of his presence overwhelms her fragile senses. He offers her a bright, charming smile, creating dimples that soften his chiseled bone structure. A sensual aura of citrus, guaiac wood and leather dance across his coastal skin as sun rays illuminate brightly from his wavy blond hair.

She gradually stands along with him, her brilliant jade eyes locked into his striking baby-blues. His strong physique impressively towers over her petite frame. She admires his handsomely neat demeanor of pressed dark-wash denim with a light heather-gray sports coat.

“Hi,” she manages to squeeze out as her mouth confuses between dropping and smiling.

“Hello,” he chuckles with a smile. “Pardon me, but I do believe you, um--well, you, uh--,” he pauses as he glances towards his outstretched arm, “you dropped these.”

Regretfully breaking her trance from his hypnotic gaze, the color quickly drains from her face as the feeling of horror crawls across her porcelain skin. Her crotchless, black-lace g-string tangled effortlessly between his fingers.

“Oh-- oh my God!” she shrieks as she reaches to grab and hide them; but unfortunately, the missing gusset between the leg bands, snags on his gold signet ring, leaving his first two fingers hung on the crotchless portion of the thong.

“I must say,” his eyes twinkle as he laughs harder at her incessant efforts to detangle the fabric from his hands, “I didn’t realize getting into a woman’s undergarments would be quite this easy--” ------------------------- Title TBD (TNA Valentine’s Day: First vs. Last... this is in the Once...Always... Universe, and I just couldn’t get it finished before Valentine’s day. So! It will be coming out on another random holiday lol)

Reaching for the doorbell, she catches her reflection in the apartment number brass plate. And panics.

Oh, God! I--he can’t see me like this!

It has been nine months since Brynn caught her husband cheating on her with their daughter Olivia’s nanny. With the story hitting every gossip column and news channel, multiple women came forward with their private trysts with Sam over the years; however, most of their stories will never be heard thanks to the family’s heavy payouts for their silence.

Sam and Brynn’s divorce was finalized five months ago, two days before baby Charlotte was born. Despite the scandal, his lies and his betrayal, Brynn wars with her feelings towards Sam. He was the love of her life; even though he broke his vows, she never dreamed of going back on her own. He made his choice; he didn’t want to be with her the moment he chose to have his extramarital affairs. But, everyday life without him by her side is awful, like living a horrible nightmare. Her heart flutters around him, missing him terribly, but her brain begs her to stop.

Brynn pinches her cheeks to life as she swipes on a rosy color of gloss on her pout. She finger combs her almond tresses into a low ponytail, ensuring the wayward wisps are hidden.

The door suddenly opens, catching Brynn by surprise.

“Mommy!” A curly-chestnut hair Olivia dashes to Brynn with open arms.

“My baby girl!” Instantaneously, she welcomes her oldest daughter into her arms, pulling her up onto her hip for a sweet hug and tender kiss. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Uh-huh,” she beams, “Look what I made you!” As she pulls out a bright pink homemade Valentine, Sam steps around the door with baby Charlotte in his arms.

“Princess--” he whispers in a deep, syrupy voice, “what do you say?”

“Oh, yeah!” her chocolate brown eyes brighten to her mom, “Happy ‘Valentime’s’ day, Mommy!”

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby girl!” Brynn squeezes Olivia into a tight embrace while she presses her lips into her cheeks. “C’mon, let’s get your things.”

As Brynn glances back at Sam, the wind is abruptly knocked out of her chest as she sees him dressed handsomely in her favorite Armani slate gray suit with soft petal-pink accents. Her eyes stay glued to him as he fastens a sleepy Charlotte into her carrier. As he stands back up, she notices his tie is crooked.

“May I?” Brynn steps forward, motioning towards his tie.

“Please,” he chuckles, “I miss your meticulous eye--”

They both awkwardly flinch at his words, Brynn focusing on the knot around his neck as Sam clears his throat.

“So--” he attempts to change subjects, “any special plans tonight?”

“Mason and Mickey are out with friends, so it’s just the girls, me, and--”

“Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown,” he interrupts as he flashes an alluring dark look at his ex-wife. He begins to run the back of his fingers sensually down her arms. “Some things don’t change--”

“But--” she glowers at him, tightening his tie close to his neck, “a lot of things have.”

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

#wip wednesday #the missionary's daughter #boughs & mockingbirds #caroline #trr #tna #trrfic #tnafic #oh/tna #trr/platinum

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sireniana · 3 years ago

Text

A Gift of a Better Kind- Part Ten

The lake, or reservoir or "big ol' body of water undoubtedly containing at least one fish monster" was beautiful.

The mountains sat in its depths, as stately and imposing as usual, although slightly more rippley. Sunshine and algae collaborated to transform it into an emerald of marvelous hue, rippling from the wind, which was blowing particularly strong across the deep green surface.

Only a few shades darker than my dress.

So last night was real. Strange. It felt both like a dream and an avalanche in my mind. But there was no helping it, I was stuck with a very…. intriguing man.

Man. Since when did I call him that? He was hardly-

"G-good morning." Came the tentative croak from behind me. Speak of the devil.

"Hello." I smiled, pulling on my blindfold, "Did you end up getting any sleep last night?"

"Not really, b-but it doesn't matter. Did you?" He asked anxiously.

I considered the question. The night nothing more than a grey blur of dragons and victories.

"I don't really know." I replied after a second.

He moaned, then: "I'm so sorry, I'm such a brute for keeping you up."

That was the last straw.

"Please, stop. You're not a brute, or a fool, or any other cruel lie you seem to believe about yourself. Do I make myself clear?" I burst, unable to allow the poor man to wallow any longer.

"Yes. O-ok. I won't if you don't like it." Slowly, like the words might be met with a harsh bark of laughter or a slap.

I found myself smiling, slowly, then more broadly until my face split into a wide grin.

"Good. You deserve happiness." I proclaimed stubbornly. No more self-deprecation for him!

A very long period of quiet. I did not turn, only looking out over the glorious, if grave, scenery. I was content, however much I shouldn't be.

"May I…. please… hold your hand again?" Carefully spoken, enunciated with great care, a desperate grab at a semblance of humanity.

"Yes." I said, automatically but without regret.

Cold, slimy and strange. But oddly… not unpleasant, this time. I squeezed gently, hearing a strangled gasp as a result.

"Did I hurt you?" I squawked, pulling my hand away in fear that I'd hurt this new friend of mine.

Instant denial.

"NO- no, you didn't. I...mmmh..not used to.. touch, anymore."

Ah. I probably should have expected that.

I held my palm out, as his hand cautiously crept back in. I relaxed. It was a beautiful morning.

-Pov Swap-

Touch. So simplistic, so complicated. How he had longed for it. Even as pain wracked his detestable carcass, he had dreamed of touch, gentle, kind, soft.

She was all these things and more. So delicate, but strong and stubborn in her kindness. She told him to be kind to himself.

An impossible task. But he would do it, for her. She filled the aching hole in his heart, claiming it as her own, though she would never know. Never.

He would not wish her to know the burden now her own. Such a weight could crush her.

"Why di-did you… wear that dress? Did you make it? Why'd you keep the cloak?"

Questions spilled from leather bound lips like slimy coins.

She merely smiled again, a little tiredly.

"You know, that might be the most words you've said to me yet?"

He considered a response, but her voice broke in, her words were like chocolate or honey, beautiful and as delicious to the ears as the aforementioned delicacies

"Well… I was rather scared the day I went into town for fabric. So, I looked through my keepsake box to… calm me down, I guess. I've kept the cloak as a memento, a reminder that even when life is a burden, someone will help you carry it. So, I found one of my Mother's dress patterns, and voila! A lovely, inconspicuous dress for the Choosing!" She let out a half bitter laugh.

"I shouldn't… have taken you. It was so selfish- it gets so lon-." He cut himself off. Nevermind that. She needed comfort, not additional worries.

Gently, for if he ever hurt her life would cease to be a gift, he ran a finger over her hand, soft skin flowing smoothly beneath his embrace.

So soft. Like flower petals or a bird's wing.

A caged bird.

As if she could read his addled thoughts, Jolie began to sing quietly.

He felt himself relax. Her voice was quiet and husky and-

He knew that song. A low chuckle escaped him, deep and gurgling. She stopped.

Of course, why wouldn't she when it sounded like a dying bullfrog was croaking in ber ear.

Then the beautiful nightingale laughed, herself.

"I figured you'd recognize that song." She smiled, "Considering we just saw the movie."

She remembered! It was only hours ago that they had seen the movie, but she had absorbed it instead of obsessing over her fear of him. Oh, he loved her!

The wind whipped around them then, as if it felt his shock at the sudden realization.

A stray piece of fabric smacked against his arm, shaking him from his reverie. It was blue-grey, rough and oddly familiar….

The wind was particularly strong that day.

♥️

#Suffer #Moreau #Salvatore moreau #Re8 #Resident evil #Residen evil 8 #resident evil village #Angst #Fluff #A gift of a better kind #Jolie #My oc #Uh oh #My writing #siren speaks

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applepiry · 4 years ago

Text

Fluffvember Day 3

Word Count: 550+

Contains: Soft Bakugou, Fluff, cursing, teasing, kissing and light smut

BakugouXGN!Reader

Ry: I hope you enjoy it ^^;; even if it is short

“No.”

It was final. Katsuki Bakugou rarely ever changed his mind. But hopefully, as his lover, you could change it.

You had asked your darling boyfriend if he would be willing to swap clothing for the day, him wearing yours and you wearing his. Even if it was just around the house. But the perpetually angry man had told you no over and over, even as you begged.

“It’ll be so cute,” you say, as if your words will sway him

“Dumbass woman! How would I be cute in your clothes?!” he snaps.

“You’re always cute?” you say, as if you had been asked a very obvious question, raising a brow.

Katsuki’s face went red, but not for his normal reason of anger. No, because you had never called him cute before. At least, not to his face.

Looking away with embarrassment, he mumbled something.

“What was that?” you say, your singsong voice piercing his red ears.

“I SAID PICK SOMETHING OUT, SHITTY BRAT.” he yelled, turning back around, his crimson eyes glaring, but you can feel the love in his voice.

Grinning brightly, you run to his side, hugging him quickly before scurrying off to find something for him to wear. “You pick for me!” you sing-song shout as you disappear into your office.

“IT’LL BE SO CUTE YOU’LL FUCKING DIE,” he yells back, having turned this into a competition. Classic Katsuki.

Finding him in the bedroom, you hand him a bundle of clothing. Taking what he had picked for you, you disappear into the bathroom before he can see what you’ve left him with.

Hearing a long string of swearing, you giggle to yourself as you change into the basketball shorts and baggy t-shirt that hung off one shoulder. Bakugou had been right, it was pretty cute on you. However, you had confidence yours was going to be great. If he wore it.

Walking out and into the bedroom, you peak around the door, but Bakugou isn’t in there anymore. Tilting your head, you start to go into the room before feeling your hips grabbed.

Suddenly, you’ve been thrown on the bed with a lingerie-clad Bakugou over you. The lacy black matching lingerie set was one of his favorites on you, so you couldn’t resist asking him to put it on. It surprisingly fit very well.

“It fits well,” you purr, the deep blush still on your face from how turned on it has you.

“Shut up,” he said, pressing his lips against your feverishly. “I told you I would win. You look so fucking hot I want to die,” he said, his husky voice making it apparent that he was enjoying the image of you in his clothing.

“The deal was cute,” you coyly remind him

A feral growl came from deep within his chest, ripping your lingerie set from his body. “You didn’t find me cute either,” he said as he ripped the shirt off your chest, yanking the shorts down and tossing it all aside.

“I already told you… You’re always cute,” you say with a soft giggle. “And you owe me a new set,” you add, looking towards your ripped clothing.

He scoffs, but smirks, “I’ll take my baby lingerie shopping after I fuck ‘em so hard they forget,” he tells you.

You scoff back, “Try me, Kat-su-ki,” you say, pronouncing his first name one syllable at a time, knowing it riles him up.

Hearing another growl, you squeal as he bounces on you.

#bnha #mha #bakugou x reader #gn reader #Fluffvember #fluffvember 2020 #bnha fluff #mha fluff #applepiry #applepiry.content

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bobohunn · 4 years ago

Text

The 56th Street

Title : 56th Street

Pair : baekhyun x reader, baekhyun x you

Genre : angst, fluff, one shot

Warnings : language, and mentions of stalking, divorce and non consensual taking of pictures (not between pair)

Word count : 3k

Note : Italicized words are character/reader’s thoughts; indented (blockquote) and italicized paragraphs are flashbacks.

“Are you busy right now?” a husky voice found its way to your ear from the other side of the line.

“No. Thank god,” you mumbled before letting a deep sigh leave your lips.

After ages, you finally heard your favorite sound on earth again.

It was the sound that went a little too high while singing along to Queen and Michael Jackson songs that played on the radio in your room while you did homework at 3 pm. The one that rang loud throughout the whole house while you danced to random and silly steps on the stage that is your bed at 3 am.

It was the same sound that went two octaves lower when you teased him too much about the little crush he seemed to harbor for the girl who sat beside him in 11th grade or when you asked him for one of his friend’s number. One that carried sweet nothings with it to your blushing ears the first time you got drunk on your birthday.

It was the very same sound that was once your refuge and salvation. The very same that calmed the erratic beating of your heart when you were nervous. One that chased your tears to crawl back up and hide in the corners of your round eyes when life enveloped you into darkness.

The voice you’ve been longing for more frequently these days.

Your best friend’s voice.

He chuckled, his low register ringing through your eardrums. “Are you at home?”

“No, but I’m walking home,” you say almost too softly, trying not to sound too excited.

There was a long period of silence. If you didn’t know Baekhyun enough, you would have already ended the call at the lack of response. However, you knew him way too well to see (hear) that he was still thinking about what he would say. So you just continued walking on your path slowly, occasionally looking over your shoulders in case you were blocking somebody’s way.

“You’re walking on that street again, aren’t you?” He hummed before asking in a very knowing tone. It took you a moment to process his question, so when you were about to defend yourself, Baekhyun had already started his nagging, “I told you not to take that street when I’m not with you!”

You smiled a bit at the realization that although you didn’t even answer yet, he already knew the truth. And your smile grew more prominent at the thought that he still knows you better than anyone.

The only person you wanted to remember you still knows you like you were the back of his hand. And you‘re not anywhere near remarkable for anyone— or even just for him at least, to remember you. Isn’t that an achievement for you?

Snorting out a laugh, you said, “Sorry, Baek. It’s the fastest way home.”

No. Actually, it’s the street that reminds me of you most.

It was the quietest street in your town, 56th street, both your favorite route to take. It was the street that held a huge part of your memories together with him and had all the little moments that piled up into ones you’ll treasure forever. The road that witnessed both of you grow from the innocent little boy and girl you once were to the lovely man and woman you both are today.

It’s the street that reminded you of when you first heard him laugh,

“Since we’re neighbors, and I’m new here, can’t you show me around the town?” the little boy said as he lifted his hands to his neck to scratch at the skin right below his jaw, making you stare at them in awe.

You snapped yourself out of your short trance and said blankly, “The only places I know are my house and the school.”

As cliché as it may sound, everything around you moved in slow motion as the side of the boy’s lips rose to his tinted cheeks. His eyes turned upside down, and his eyebrows raised. He laughed lightly before asking, “Then, should we see where this street ends?”

Of when you first saw him pout,

“Baekhyun, no. We have to go home,” you said as you continued on your track without looking back at him. He went silent, and a smirk crept up your face.

However, it grew too suspiciously silent. So you stopped walking and turned your head back, only to find a sulking Baekhyun. His hands were in his pockets, eyebrows knit together, cheeks puffed out, and his lower lip pouty. He slowly looked back up at you with his puppy eyes that always won you over.

“Oh my god, don’t give me that look. You’re making my head hurt.”

He moved closer to you and grabbed one of your hands, “I’ll stay over at yours for dinner so your mom won’t scold you for too long. Just please come with me to the supermarket. I’m really craving ice cream,” he said with his eyes quivering from left to right.

He’s onto something. “What do you have up in your sleeve, Mr. Byun? Tell me, or I’m not going with you,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at him.

He looked away from you and landed his gaze towards the ground again, “Y-you, I heard y-you crying in your room last night. I just want to buy you ice cream to cheer you up because I won’t be able to sleep knowing I hadn’t done anything for you before this day ended.”

When you first heard him curse and get mad,

“Excuse me, Dude. But what are those photos for?” you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Recognizing it as Baekhyun, you quickly looked over your shoulder to greet your friend.

“A-ah i-it’s just for documentation purposes for our group study,” stuttered the other guy whose back was turned to you.

You called out Baekhyun’s name, confused about the current situation laid in front of you. Your friend only raised his head to you and motioned for you to come to him, “do you know this guy?”

You approach the two men, curious as to who the other person is. When you caught a glimpse of the unfamiliar face, you slowly shook your head no. “I don’t think so. Do I have to?”

Baekhyun clicked his tongue and clenched his jaw. He sneered a little and turned his head to the side, making you more confused.

“The next time you make a fucking excuse, make sure it’s not as stupid as you look. Stop being a fucking pervert, you fucking stalking asshole.”

And of when you first heard him cry.

“Oh my god, Baekhyun, what happened?” you said as you brought the taller man’s head to your shoulder. You tried to rub his back and smooth out the creases of his school uniform, but he just started wailing more.

He was leaning into you, and you couldn’t take his weight anymore, so you guided him to sit down on the sidewalk. You tried to pull away from him, but he planted his face deeper into your neck, so you just hugged him tighter and drew unnamed patterns on his arms.

When his sobbing finally toned down, you tugged at his chin and made him look up at you. The redness of his nose, along with the tears in and around his eyes, made your heart hurt. Who on earth would try to make this man cry?

“You’re not telling me what happened?” you whispered as you wiped the tears that continued to drop down his cheeks.

“My mom wants to divorce my dad.”

You heard a small huff from his end, making you chuckle loud enough for him to hear.

You tilted your head to your side and pictured how he would have looked if he were actually walking with you today. Would he have had his hair down or gelled back? Would he have worn the oversized hoodies you told him were your favorite on him? Would he have walked in all his glory on the sidewalk in his new Js? Would he have looked at you with loving eyes, like he did back then?

“Still! Didn’t I tell you that I’d be mad and not call you if you walked there alone? That street is so quiet and far from people. It’s too dangerous!” he whined again.

A bitter taste started to spread in your mouth. You took a deep breath of the crisp air, “Yeah. I know it’s dangerous.”

Dangerously silent and lonely without you.

“Do you remember? That time when I told you to go home without me because I had fun playing football with my classmates?” he paused for you to answer, but he knows that you remember it anyway.

Yeah, when I almost cried, thinking you didn’t want to hang out with me anymore?

He laughed, “I think I hit my head somewhere that time, and I realized that I wanted to walk home with you. So I ran to catch up with you, but then I saw a guy taking pictures of you from the back.” You chuckled a little at how fast his tone changed from happy to angered towards the end.

You added in, “And you cursed him with all your heart, and I had to drag your boiling ass home or else you would have had a swollen hand.”

And when I thought my heart would explode, seeing you all worked up and protective of me.

You stopped walking and recalled how it exactly happened, where you exactly were, and what you exactly felt. While reminiscing, you could almost see the image of your younger self pulling the younger Baekhyun, who couldn’t take his eyes off the stranger who stalked you, pass by in front of your eyes.

“Yup. I decided to walk home with you every day since then. But now that I can’t, I made you promise not to walk 56th street, didn’t I?” Baekhyun said in a sing-song tone.

“Sorry,”

“I’ll let it go this time. But next time I really won’t call you for three months! Or even six months!” He taunted.

Even if I kept my promise and never walked on the same street again, when the time comes, you’d probably stop calling me.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay here. Training is getting hard, though. But I bet you five tubs of ice cream that I’m gonna be on national TV in 3 months!”

I need not bet because I know you’ll make it. It’s your lifelong dream, after all.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” Baekhyun beamed from your porch as he took off his shoes. You watched him with confused eyes from the couch of your father’s living room.

“What?”

He quickly approached you and pulled you up from your seat, “it’s time for us to take a walk. Long since we’ve done it, no?”

You and Baekhyun took your precious time to walk. One whole step before the other, as if scared that the sidewalk would run out if you walk faster.

You didn’t really say anything to each other, but the sound of the spring birds singing and your soles rubbing against the bricks on the sidewalk made you both feel entertained.

With longer legs and bigger feet, Baekhyun was walking slightly ahead of you. Having to catch up with his steps, you walked faster, eager to walk side by side with him. But he noticed that you were trying so hard to keep up with him, so he tried to make his steps smaller. Then, he moved closer to you until your hips touched each other.

It was always like this with Baekhyun. You’d take a walk together on 56th street without saying anything, and you’d still enjoy it. He would always end up walking ahead of you, and you would ever walk behind him. Then, when he notices that he’s walking too fast for you, he would start taking smaller steps so you could keep up with him. And when he thinks he’s walking slow enough to match your pace, he would close the gap between your bodies by putting an arm around your shoulders or waist or just by feeling your sides against his.

“I li-“

“I’m leaving,” Baekhyun started, cutting off what you wanted to say.

“What?” Your voice came out shaky, unsure of what you heard.

Baekhyun stopped walking, “I said I’m leaving. I’m leaving for the city.”

You blinked your eyes twice. Stiff as you were, you tried to open your mouth to say something which you couldn’t seem to remember anymore. Baekhyun giggled at how you looked.

“I’m gonna be an idol, [y/n]. I’m going to be a singer.” he said as his eyes twinkled with joy.

How? Where? When? Why? You wanted to ask him, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to move even a muscle except for your eyes.

“A company scouted me at graduation. They said I had the potential to be a singer. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure, but now I am.” He said while looking up at the cloudless sky.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you only managed to speak out the words, “I’m happy for you, Baekhyun.”

You didn’t see Baekhyun the week after that walk because he was busy packing, and you were busy denying to yourself that he was leaving. So when you saw him from your window pushing boxes unto the trunk of his parents’ SUV with his hair white as snow, you couldn’t help but jump out from where you were standing.

You accidentally pushed your windowpane in an attempt to save your face from kissing the wooden floor, and it made a noise loud enough for Baekhyun to look up at your room. He waved up at you and motioned for you to meet him outside.

“Are you leaving today?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t able to tell you,” Baekhyun said as he scratched the skin under his ear. He always did this when he was in an awkward situation.

You stared at him without speaking. You took in how he looked for the last time. But you realized that it was too much for you. He was too much for you. So you focused on his now white hair that rested against his scalp, seemingly tired from the process of bleaching.

Baekhyun only smiled at you like a child that was offered candies and delight. You moved closer to him, eyes exploring his face and stopping at his lips for a few seconds before losing confidence again.

His name softly left your lips, to which he only hummed in response.

“I,” you paused for a moment, maybe two? or three. You don’t know.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline.

“I like your hair.” you said with a smile.

“Don’t I look like a real celebrity now?” he said as he let his fingers run through his locks.

“You do,” he always did.

You let yet another chuckle escape your mouth, although the last thing you wanted to do was laugh. “I’m still your best friend, right?” you questioned, though you were scared he’d say no.

However, you heard a different voice from his end of the call shout, “Baekhyun! 10-minute break is over!” and your friend responded with something you couldn’t catch. All that you knew was that he was laughing with someone, their voices slowly fading as if they were walking away from the phone.

He’s happier now. Even happier than when he was with me.

You used to associate his laugh with flowers, candies, love, and everything sweet. But now you can’t help but feel bitterness crawl up your spine, like a vine climbing its way up the walls and lampposts.

The cold and long blow of the wind made you feel nostalgic (if you weren’t yet), and you wanted as much to let it take you to wherever your heart is, where Baekhyun is.

“I have to go [y/n]! I’ll call you again soon!” he quickly said before a long beep was heard, announcing the end of the call.

Months passed, and you are still waiting for when his name flashes as the caller ID on the screen of your phone. Maybe he’s busy? Or he lost my number? Perhaps he changed his phone?

You wanted to ask his parents for his new number or even just how their son was doing. But you were surprised to find out that they already moved out of the house next to yours, when you returned from your grandparents’ house for a 3-week vacation. You wanted to ask your parents if they had his parents’ number, but then you decided that seeing him on TV and your phone screen was enough for you.

He’s clearly doing well.

He has got to be doing well. How could he not when he has been flashing the cameras the widest and prettiest smiles? The kind of smiles you never witnessed when he was with you.

He’s clearly happier than ever.

Although you kept saying that you were happy for him too, you just can’t deny that you do feel jealous of how far he had come. It was just like the long and silent walks you took with him throughout 56th street before: he was always steps ahead of you, and you were burning in jealousy behind him because of the advances his relatively longer legs brought him. Except that he was miles and dreams ahead of you now, and he couldn’t slow down his pace to match yours and stay by your side anymore.

He’s way too far ahead to turn and run back to me.

He’s probably living a better life.

He probably has funnier (best) friends to laugh with.

He probably has prettier eyes to stare at, softer hands to hold, and more comfortable shoulders to lean on.

He probably has a new favorite street to walk with somebody new. Somebody who’s better, somebody who’s not you.

And you started to accept that little by little.

You had started to move on.

You started to forget.

You finally let go.

But you kept the promise you made him.

You never walked 56th street again,

because he’s not there with you anymore.

—

#baekhyun #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #exo #bobohunn writes #fanfiction #kpop #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I want to ask your opinion on Jon ygritte relationship and it's contrast with jonsa. I've seen jongritte wrt to jonerys but I want to know your opinions on jongritte wrt to jonsa as a foil n parallel.

Hello Anon,

Let’s talk about Ygritte then...

Ygritte:

Ygritte was a mixture of the Stark Sisters.

According to Jon: “she can kiss a man (Sansa’s romantic nature) or slit his throat (Arya’s killer abilities)”

“And maybe her eyes [...] but they were a pretty blue-grey color”. Blue (Sansa) & Grey (Arya).

Ygritte has skinny legs, was short for her age, and never brushed her hair, similar to Arya. But Ygritte was a redhead, described like ‘kissed by fire’, similar to the Tully auburn of Sansa’s hair that is also described by Arya like ‘fire’: “Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair.”

According to Jon, Ygritte is fierce, stubborn, and wild, similar to Arya with her touch of the wolf blood. But Ygritte also can sing like Sansa.

Ygritte is a spearwife, a fierce killer, a warrior woman, which reminds us of Arya’s Needle, her training to be a faceless man, and the list of people she wants to kill. But Ygritte also likes songs and stories and cries with sad and beautiful songs, like Sansa.

Who else was a mixture of the Stark Sisters? Lyanna Stark, Jon’s mother. But this is another subject.

Jon was not instantly attracted to Ygritte, but with time he started to have feeling for her, feelings that are linked with Ygritte’s similarities with Sansa:

The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Ygritte’s singing and the shades of her red hair near the flames. Jon is such a romantic.

Ygritte’s hair “by the cookfire [...] with the flames waking echoes in her red hair”, reminds me of this passage about Sansa’s hair:

“She had auburn hair, […] the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper.”

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

And guess what turns Jon off about Ygritte? That she is a cold blood killer:

"I see no free folk. I see a crow and a crow wife."

"I'm no crow wife!" Ygritte snatched her knife from its sheath. Three quick strides, and she yanked the old man's head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. Even in death, the man did not cry out. "You know nothing, Jon Snow!" she shouted at him, and flung the bloody blade at his feet.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

"Who is Ygritte?" Donal Noye asked pointedly.

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? [. . .] she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she . . ." She killed an old man for building a fire.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Very telling....

I usually call Ygritte, “Jon’s Joffrey”. Both Jon and Sansa accommodated Ygritte and Joffrey in their minds as a coping mechanism, because they both knew that their love interests liked killing too much, something that turn them off:

“Who is Ygritte?” Donal Noye asked pointedly.

“A woman of the free folk.” How could he explain Ygritte to them? She’s warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat. “She’s with Styr, but she’s not … she’s young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she …” She killed an old man for building a fire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. “I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but …” It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her … “I wasn’t strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I …” His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Look how Jon is having a discussion with himself in his mind: Jon 1: Ygritte was warm, smart, funny, young, only a girl.... Jon 2: But she was a cold blood killer, man! She shot several arrows at us, she tried to kill us! And remember when she blackmailed us to have sex with her? WTF dude?

This is exactly what Sansa was doing here:

“I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart,” she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. White harts were supposed to be very rare and magical, and in her heart she knew her gallant prince was worthier than his drunken father.

“A dream? Truly? Did Prince Joffrey just go up to it and touch it with his bare hand and do it no harm?”

“No,” Sansa said. “He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me.” In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though. Sansa was certain her prince had no part in murdering Jory and those other poor men; that had been his wicked uncle, the Kingslayer. She knew her father was still angry about that, but it wasn’t fair to blame Joff. That would be like blaming her for something that Arya had done.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

After a time living in Kings Landing and knowing her betrothed a bit better, Sansa knew that Joffrey was not true knight material; deep down she knew about his killing/harming tendencies, yet she tried to accommodate Joff as someone that, at least, would never harm/kill innocent people.

As I said before, Jon started having feelings for Ygritte, but she couldn’t wait to have him. She blackmailed him to have sex, and Jon being the horny teenager that he was, at the prospect to be killed by the wildling versus having sex with a girl that he started to like, he chose the sex, of course. Such a strong basis for romance...

Women & Jon Snow:

How many times have we all heard that Jon loves warrior women and dislikes or even hates ladies? This is not true tho...

These wrong assumptions are based in Jon’s interactions with the following women:

Ygritte, a spearwife, a warrior woman, his first and only lover.

Arya, his favorite and beloved sister, Jon himself gave her a sword, Needle. Needle was named because of Sansa tho... Ygritte reminded Jon of Arya.

Val, “the wildling princess”. Jon considers Val very physically attractive, he decided that she was a “warrior princess”. But sorry, let me tell you that GRRM himself has said that Val is not a warrior woman.

Lady Alys Karstark, because she reminds Jon of Arya and she flirted with him. She remembered them dancing in the past and invited him to dance again during her wedding. Dancing is something very ladylike tho, just saying...

Arya

Back in 2016, a person asked GRRM about the possibility of a romance between Jon and Arya, pointing out the similarities between Ygritte and Arya, this is what he said:

“My con friend asked about the Jon/Arya relationship again and brought her (impressive) Game book that had all of her references marked out with little flags. She brought up the Ygritte connections to Arya that Jon saw in her. George did not directly answer yes or no if there would be anything romantic between the two.”

“George did say, despite what readers see as clues to a romantic relationship between Jon/Arya in the books themselves, he did not confirm this so easily but inferred that what Jon saw in Ygritte was a comfort level of femininity. <<< She and I obviously discussed these comments after the meeting and this was the general feeling.”

“My con friend was referring to George explaining Jon’s perception: GRRM replied, “You know, I don’t think it’s a reference for that [for romance]. It’s a reference to a certain physical type, and a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It’s like someone who reminds you of, you know… Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn’t put him off because he is used to that.”

[Source 1] [Source 2] [Source 3]

So, as you can see, these links between Jon’s favorite sister and Jon’s first lover, according to the author himself, mean:

“Comfort level of femininity”,

“Jon is used to messy hair”

“Not reference for romance”.

Not reference for romance indeed...

Here you can read more about my opinion regarding the possibility of a romantic relationship between Jon and Arya: [x] [x] [x]

Val

Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman. One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.

[Source]

But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?

Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”. Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”. But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa? Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point. And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.

I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:

I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”. Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn't even want it anyway”. Let’s see:

"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go." The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. "As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?" He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. "You do want to know what's on the other side, don't you?"

"It's nothing special," Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder's wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. "The rangers say it's just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

I mean... COME ON! This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.” Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.

Do I have to say more???

Actually, yes, I have.

Jon Snow does really want a lady. Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden. Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her. Here some evidence:

Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”

Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight. The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king's mistress”.

Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: "Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower." "That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”.

Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor's sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.

Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.

Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. [...] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. [...] Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”.

Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.

Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas.

Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing.

It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:

"I have heard you singing to him."

"I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?" A faint smile brushed her lips. "It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster."

"Monster?"

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Once outside and well away from the queen's men, Val gave vent to her wroth. "You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …"

"Greyscale."

"The grey death is what we call it."

"It is not always mortal in children."

"North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago."

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. "Princess Shireen is the queen's only child."

"I pity both of them. The child is not clean."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???

Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from??? It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa

“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard

I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn

He thought [...] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. —Jon

And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val:

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.

A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???

Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden.

Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.

Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa.

Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue. Again the grey/blue eyes pattern...

Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.

So?

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. [...] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself.

Think about it!

Alys

You may have heard about how Alys Karstark reminds Jon of Arya. She was the girl of Melissandre’s vision, right? No? Melissandre was wrong? Really?Anyway, this is another subject, for another time. The thing is that Jon was really hoping that the “Grey Girl” was Arya. He was desperate to have Arya safe and away from the Boltons. And once again, look at Alys Karstark’s description:

Alys is a tall, like Sansa, but skinny, like Arya.

Alys has brown hair, like Arya, but wears it into a braid, so she cares about her hair, like Sansa.

Alys has a long face, but blue-grey eyes. Blue like Sansa, and Grey like Arya. This pattern again? George, I need some explanations. What are you doing?

And also all these connections with Sansa:

Alys is a lady, a maiden, and she asked Jon his protection: “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father's name, I beg you. Protect me”. She sounds like a willowy creature in need to be rescue by some knight, right?

Alys remembered dancing with a sullen Jon Snow when she visited Winterfell in the past. Alys invited Jon Snow to dance again during her wedding.

Alys’ wedding happened in a very similar way to Sansa’s dream wedding: ”It was not supposed to be this way. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp”. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa III & “The Magnar all but ripped the maiden’s cloak from Alys’s shoulders, but when he fastened her bride’s cloak about her he was almost tender. As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, their breath mingled”. —A Dance with Dragons - Jon X.

A northern maid and a wildling warrior, bound together by the Lord of Light. A northern maid like Sansa: “The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter”. A wildling warrior like Jon: “I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling.”

There is much more to say about Women & Jon Snow, but I will stop here. There are more topics to explore for this answer.

This is too long already, so I need to make a cut.

Parallels & Contrasts:

As I said this post is already too long, so I will summarize with the help of my friends. Let’s see:

Some great findings by my friend @shieldofrohan in this post: JON X SANSA BOOK HINTS- IN ORDER:

Sansa is the blue flower that bloomed from the North

Ygritte tells about the song of Bael the Bard and the Winterfell’s Rose in ACOK; Jon VI

In the story the blue roses of Winterfell just bloom and they represent a love between King Beyond the Wall and Winterfell’s maiden heir

Next chapter is Sansa (ACOK; Sansa IV) and she flowers for the first time, next chapter is Jon again. (Jon-Sansa-Jon)

Bael the Bard and Winterfell’s Blue Rose

He meets with Ygritte

So after the introduction of his future love interest comes a Sansa chapter.

She tells him the story of a song about the love between King Beyond the Wall and Winterfell’s maiden lady heir.

Jon-Ygritte meeting // Sandor-Sansa last scene

Jon meets with Ygritte in ACOK; Jon VI

Sansa sees Sandor for the last time in ACOK; Sansa VII

Jon has grey eyes // Sandor has grey eyes

Ygritte has red hair // Sansa has red hair

Jon // Sandor puts a knife to her throat

Ygritte tells him a song // Sansa sings for him

Jon-Ygritte last scene // Sandor-Sansa last scene

Sansa-Sandor last scene ACOK; Sansa VII // Jon-Ygritte last scene ASOS; Jon VII

Ygritte cups Jon’s cheek // Sansa cups Sandor’s cheek

Ygritte // Sandor says her/his catchphrase:

You know nothing, Jon Snow // Littlebird one last time and dies // leaves.

The men didn’t touch redhead girls but girls say they did

Jon didn’t touch Ygritte but Ygritte lies that he did and Sansa believes that Sandor kissed her in ACOK; Sansa VII. But he didn’t

Sansa remembers UNKISS after a Jon chapter.

Jon-Ygritte // Tyrion-Sansa

Jon beds Ygritte and it kind of means they are married in Wildlings’ sense. Because they believe in stealing + bedding = marriage philosphy.

Meanwhile Sansa really marries Tyrion.

Two hearts that beat as one. Mance Rayder’s mocking words rang bitter in his head. [ASOS; Jon III] The septon raised his crystal high, so the rainbow light fell down upon them. “Here in the sight of gods and men,” he said, “I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.” [ASOS; Sansa III]

Jon has sex with Ygritte because he needs to prove that he is loyal. But he feels guilty because he takes pleasure. So he stole her and bed her. They are basically married. He didn’t want to but he was forced to.

Sansa had to do it because she is surrounded by the enemy. And Tyrion believes he has to consummate the marriage because his father commanded him. He desires Sansa even though she is a child and he feels a slight shame because of it. But unlike Jon, Tyrion doesn’t bed Sansa.

Bed your sister

Ygritte asks some interesting questions… while someone was about to bed Jon’s sister. She punched him. “That’s vile. Would you bed your sister?” [ASOS; Jon III]

I didn’t steal you… I’m no thief

Ygritte says that Jon stole her like Bael the Bar and talks about the star called Thief. But Jon says he didn’t steal her.

In TWOW; Alayne I, Ser Roland also calls Sansa a thief for stealing his heart. But she says she is no thief.

Ygritte is a girl with Tully look with her red hair and blue-grey eyes whereas Ser Roland has Stark look with his brown hair and long face. Sansa even says he is horse faced, and Arya is called Horsaface too and she looks like Jon.

Ygritte // Sansa

Ygritte is a northern girl with Tully hair and she says she is a “half fish”

Sansa is a half Tully aka fish, redhead and northern… Ygritte punched his arm. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. I’m half a fish, I’ll have you know.” [ASOS; Jon V]

More from this post by my friend on reddit: Jon and Sansa's parallel journey/imagery/settings in Jon and Sansa CHAPTERS PLACED NEXT TO EACH OTHER

ACOK Chapters 51, 52 and 53 - Steal the girl Chapter 51 - Jon, Chapter 52 - Sansa and Chapter 53 - Jon

Jon meets Ygritte who bares her throat for him and Jon puts his Longsword at it, intending to kill her but frees her:

She pushed her hair aside to bare her neck, and knelt before him. “Strike hard and true, crow, or I’ll come back and haunt you.”

“Now,” he said, “before my wits return. Go.”

She went.

The Hound puts his longsword against Sansa's neck but also frees her:

He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.

Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”

Wordless, she fled

Before this, Ygritte tells Jon the tale of Bael the bard and how he stole the "Fairest flower in Winterfell"

‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.’”

Next, we have Sansa recieve her first moonblood described as having "Flowered"

You’ve had your first flowering, no more.

Chapter ends with Cersei asking Sansa if she wants to be loved and have it followed by a Jon chapter.

Do you want to be loved, Sansa?”

“Everyone wants to be loved.”

“I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. "Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

Next chapter : Jon

ASOS Chapter 15, 16

These two chapters are a bit icky and deals with sexual maturity. Feels like a parallel journey.

The Jon chapter consists of Tormund talking about his sex life, Jon claiming he's too young for sex and Ygritte basically throwing herself at him.

The Sansa chapter consists of men staring at Sansa's body sexually, maids remarking about her matured bosom, Margaery playing kissing games with her cousins etc.

First love’s Resemblance:

And Sansa fell wildly in love with Ser Waymar, and Jon fell in love with a wildling girl kissed by fire:

Indeed, Sansa’s first crush was a brother of the Night’s Watch:

“Bronze Yohn knows me,” she reminded him. “He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black.” She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. “And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw … he saw Sansa Stark again at King’s Landing, during the Hand’s tourney.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

And Waymar Royce looked like a Stark. Waymar Royce was Jon’s lookalike. More about it here.

And Jon’s first love was Ygritte, a redhead, with blue-grey eyes, and to make the Tully look even more evident, Ygritte called herself half a fish:

“Ygritte punched his arm. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know.”

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Sansa’s first crush having the Stark Look and Jon’s first lover having the Tully look, reminds me of Catelyn being first betrothed with Brandon Stark but marrying Eddard Stark instead. Brandon, died like Waymar. Ned said Jon’s is a younger version of himself. Ned never imagined marrying Catelyn, he had a young infatuation with Ashara Dayne, but he never acted on his feelings for her, and she died. Ned also killed Ashara’s brother Arthur.

Sansa fell wildly in love with Waymar, but she won’t marry him, he died. She will probably fall in love with Jon in a more mature and calmly way. Jon Snow, after a non-con beginning, ended loving Ygritte, not a lady, that offered him a “comfort level of femininity”, but he won’t marry her, she died. Jon will probably fell in love with Sansa, freely and willingly.

I think there is more to say and I could expand what was already said, but I think I covered the basics.

And to finish this post I will leave you with this picture. A friend helped me to colored the rose blue, the original was yellow. I call this picture: “Sansa with messy hair”. And I think this picture is the perfect way to end this long answer.

Good night.

#Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #Sansa x Jon #Jon x Sansa #jonsa #Ygritte #jon and ygritte #jon and arya #jon and val #jon and alys

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