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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Text

unforeseen circumstances [ 1 ]

pairing : porco galliard / fem reader

word count : 4.3k

tags : porn w plot, angsty lol, porn w feelings, doomed love

warnings : nsfw

summary : at first it had been necessary, a consequence of getting more and more information out of your target, but now you realize that the time spent with him had developed into a bond that was undeniably something more.

— originally posted 12 / 29 / 20 on ao3 —

intercept, infiltrate, escape.

that was the mantra you'd been repeating over and over again in your head for days. your squad was counting on you—paradis was counting on you—to do your absolute best out on the field, behind enemy lines. and you would definitely say that you had been doing well. you'd picked out your target just fine, maintained your cover effortlessly, gathered a hefty amount of intel that would mark your mission as a success when you delivered everything the commander back home.

in the same vein, you could admit, there had been a few hiccups here and there; a couple slips of the tongue that would've spelt certain defeat if you weren't so good at lying through your teeth, accidentally doing things that weren't in character of a diplomat's daughter, mostly small mistakes, nothing that wasn't easily rectifiable.

but, what was happening right now had to be the biggest hiccup of them all.

your hands were tangled in the thick mess of blonde hair, mussing it out of its usual brushed back style, lips moving fervently over his as you arched off the bed to press your body closer to him. you'd found that kissing him always left you breathless, thrumming with warmth and only wanting more. it was no different this time around when he pulled away, your chest heaving like you'd just run a mile as he pressed a messy line of kisses down your cheek and jaw.

"do you really have to go home after tomorrow, princess?" he murmured between pecks, hands beginning to work on unbuttoning your shirt.

"i told you i'm a countess, not a princess." you giggled, tugging your arms free from the sleeves and replacing your hands in his hair, "there's a difference, you know?"

"countess, princess, whatever, royalty all the same." he mused, giving a soft nip to your shoulder, "can't you ask your father to leave you here with me just a little longer?"

your face flushed at that, feeling a flutter in your heart at his earnest words rather than his impatient hands. it was those little requests, playfully delivered but nonetheless inviting you to really stay in liberio even if for just a day more, that reminded you of the weight of your duty. a small pang cut through the fog of arousal, your fingers tightening their grasp the slightest bit, guilt bubbling up behind the light airiness in your chest.

"you know i would if i could, porco." you replied softly, "but i've got business back home. my family's counting me for a lot of things."

and you weren't lying when you said that. you did have business and family back home, there was so many things that had to be done, and the only chance you had to get back home with the rest of your squad was tomorrow night, leaving this as the final evening you'd probably ever get spend with him like this. you tried not to think about those complicated details, but he made it easy to focus on him as his hands squeezed your breasts, rolling his thumbs over your nipples through the padded fabric of your bra.

"then i'll just have to make sure you remember me, huh?" you could feel him smirking against your skin, "give you plenty of reasons to come back real soon."

you let out a heated sigh at the feeling of him sucking at the crook of your neck, thighs clenching unconsciously from the low pulse of arousal stirring between your legs. you could tell that there was going to be a bruise in the morning, already hearing connie's vehement protests and sasha's prying questions in your head. screwing the enemy once was already bad enough, but this was now the fourth day he'd managed to get you in his bed.

this first night could've been excusable, seeing as you were both quite drunk after a carefree tour of the city, courtesy of him and his overconfidence, despite you knowing every nook and cranny of liberio from your time spent tracking his comrades' schedules. but you couldn't help feeling drawn back to him, and under the flimsy excuse of being able to get more information by being in his dorm, you had ended up back in his room within the next few nights as well. you technically did get a bit of work done, rifling through his belongings when he ventured downstairs to get you both a cup of coffee, but there was nothing of substances to be found besides some explicit magazines under the bed and a picture of his older brother tucked away deep in the drawers of his desk.

you knew you shouldn't get attached to him, you knew that you should just write these evening ventures off as meaningless sex to drive away the homesickness that had begun to set in. but you'd started to find yourself wanting to be around him more and more even before that first night, missing his scent of faint cologne that you could only smell when he held you close to him, memorizing everything from the flustered smile that broke out across his face when you'd kiss his cheek to the fuck-drunk grin you saw from your side of his bed the first time you'd slept with him. sure, he was arrogant and standoffish on the surface, but under that exterior there was so much more, more than you could ever hope to discover in the last twenty-four hours you had left in your stay. so you decided to let him bring you back here again, not even feigning protest when you both fell back into the comfort of his messy sheets and made out like two teenagers after their first date.

you could feel his hands trying to work their way under you, prompting you to arch your back off the bed so he could unclasp your bra. you gave a soft whimper when his teeth grazed over the fresh bruise, letting your eyes fall shut as he lavished your neck and shoulder with teasing, half-pressured bites and firm kisses. his fingers rolled your nipples between them, clearly relishing in the tiny whines and moans of his name that each pinch earned him. he turned out to be much more generous in bed than you'd first anticipated, always giving and giving without any expectation for something in return, seemingly content with just watching you fall apart in his hands, something which he made so ridiculously easy to do.

the moon outside cast a silvery glow through the window, illuminated his figure above you and making the more blonde locks of his hair glow golden. you let your hips roll up to meet his, earning a low groan when they pressed flush against the tenting bulge in his trousers. the places where he left his mark ached in the best way as he made his way down to your chest, earning another stifled whimpered when sucked at the valley of your breasts, fingers not stopping their slow routine that sent heat arcing up your spine. you muffled another whine when he bit at the soft flesh, tongue laving out to soothe the sting.

"ah.. p-porco, that..!" he didn't let you finish before he repeated the action to the other breast, firmly enough to print his teeth into your skin but not nearly enough to be entirely painful.

you were sure he could feel the way you were trembling now, how your shaky hands were tugging meekly at his shirt in a futile attempt to get it off. he pulled away with a chuckle, yanking it off of himself in one fluid motion and tossing it aside, planting a brief kiss over your lips before returning to his previous actions. this time his mouth descended over your nipple, tongue flicking over the pert bud and drawing more small whimpers out of you.

you were only keeping quiet out of the thought that the other warriors were in the dorms, and that they might come knocking eventually to tell you to shut up, but porco seemed more than happy to force more heated pants and moans out of you with little care for their volume. you squirmed under the power of his tongue, already feeling yourself practically soaking through your underwear as he swapped his attention to your unattended breast, hands smoothing down your waist to work at getting your skirt off. he managed to wrestled the lacing free more quickly than you thought he would, touch immediately delving under the loosened waistline and into your underwear.

"fuck," he groaned, thumb rubbing over your clit and making you up buck into his hand, "so fucking wet."

"stop t-teasing me.." you protested, feeling him move to nip and suck more marks at the underside of your breasts. you hadn't thought the skin would be so tender, but you couldn't help the moan that slipped from your lips at the sensation.

"makes sense that you're used to calling the shots," he spoke in a low tone, giving an apologetic lick to one of the larger bruises he'd left behind before proceeding further down your body, "but just trust me, alright? i'll make sure you'll never forget tonight."

you felt your heart skip at his words. "as if i could ever forget you."

you caught his small smile your own words garnered in the dim light, an expression that was boyishly shy yet prideful all at once, another image of him that you wanted to burn into your memory forever. after tossing your underwear aside to join the rest of your forgotten clothes, he guided apart your legs, pressing a soft kiss over your thigh before taking some of the pliant flesh between his full lips, sucking at it with enough pressure to make you whimper.

you knew what he was doing, littering your skin with bruises that would darken by the time morning came, leaving reminders of himself that probably would stay etched into your skin for the next few days, but definitely not more than a week. you assumed that he saw it as better than nothing, considering that the first time he left a mark on you he would always smirk to himself when he caught a glimpse of it, thumbing over it and kissing it when he could— figures that the prideful soldier loved to mark his territory. he took his time with this area, squeezing at your thighs and giving the occasional bite just to watch you squirm and whine, hazel eyes drinking in your visage as he teased you with the prospect of being so close to where you needed him.

"god, you look so good." he muttered after leaving the final mark, deciding that he'd drawn out his torture long enough, "i wish i could keep you like this forever."

you flushed brilliantly at that, your sheepish look garnering another quiet laugh from him before he settled your thighs onto his shoulders, fingers sinking into your soft hips and gently pulling you against him. the first lick was deliberately slow, laving up the entirety of your dripping cunt and stopping just at your clit, taking it into his mouth to draw small circles over it with the tip of his tongue.

you pressed one hand firmly over the lower half of your face to catch to moan that you couldn't swallow back and muffle the sound of your quick breaths through your nose, the other finding his hair and urging him closer. his mouth was exceptional, knowing exactly which places to lick and kiss, applying just the right pressure over you to make your toes curl and your legs shake, each low groan and mutter sending the delightful vibrations of his voice echoing across your skin. you did your best to not clench your thighs too firmly around his head, but your already vain efforts fell apart completely at the feeling of his tongue working its way into you, lapping up at the wetness that was now most likely dripping down his chin and making a mess of the sheets beneath you.

for all his hotheaded hubris, his smart mouth was good for much more than just spouting out arguments to defend his pride and dropping mediocre pick-up lines that would've been terribly cringeworthy from anyone else but were somehow endearing when he said them. one hand moved to replace the stimulation over your clit in his mouth's absence, the other sliding under your writhing form to find the small of your back, offering more support to the way your body arched into his mouth. the heat ebbing out over every inch of your flushed skin was overwhelming, leaving you drowning in the feeling of his skillful tongue and fingers, moans pouring out into the palm of your hand as you tugged at his hair and rolled your hips up into his touch.

"f-fuck.. c-c-can't.. i th-think..!" you could barely form coherent words, but you were sure he knew exactly what you were trying to tell him based on the way he redoubled his efforts over you, drawing out one last muffled whine before you came against his mouth.

you had expected him to let you ride out your high like he always did, eventually guiding you down with a steadily slowing rhythm and soft kisses to your trembling body, but he did neither, not even faltering as urged you even closer to his unrelenting attention.

"p-porco..!" you mewled, having to pull the hand at your mouth away to gasp in sufficient breath, "please—f-fuck—l-let me rest for a m-minute!!"

you met his gaze from between your legs, barely steady enough to match the intensity, not able to see his mouth but knowing he was grinning from the way the corners of his eyes creased. when you tried to unclasp your thighs from around his head, his hands quickly grabbed them and held your legs apart just enough to accommodate his place between them, his low chuckle at your desperate expression sending another jolt of pleasure sparking up your spine.

you couldn't stop the incessant trembling of your body, every muscle wracked with an uncompromising heat that drove breathless, unrestrained whines out of you as his tongue drew you back to that familiar peak in under a minute. each shaky clench on your hand in his hair earned you more low groans into your overly-sensitive flesh, your head craning back as far as the pillow allowed it to and heels digging into the firm muscle of his back as your lids squeezed shut, entirely immersed into the all-consuming heat that was fervid enough to bring tears to your eyes. you felt more than overstimulated as he finally let up and allowed you to fall back down onto the bed in a panting heap, pressing soothing kisses across the skin of your bruised thighs.

"do you need a break?" he murmured, not at all hiding how he was admiring your debauched expression.

"just a little one." you barely whispered back, still struggling to catch your breath and slow your heart.

he took mercy on you, slipping your legs off of his shoulders and stepping off of the bed to wrestle off his pants and boxers, giving you until then to regain your bearings. you let your wandering eyes settle on his dimly lit figure, the shadowed contour of the muscles lining his chest and arms looking even more defined in the faint radiance the window provided.

you would miss feeling the way they would flex under his warm skin when you smoothed your hands over the expanse of his torso, how you could feel his heart thud steadily against your fingers or hear it when you rested your head on his naked chest. just the thought of your departure was sobering in it own right, but remembering what you would have to take part in just after you would give your final farewell made you feel a lump knotting its way into the center of your throat. you tried not to let that dismay show on your face as he took his place over you once again, letting you pull him down into a kiss that was softer, less lustful than all the others that had come before.

"c'mon, getting sappy on me already?" he teased playfully. you didn't even have to open your eyes to know that he was grinning. you huffed, earning a small laugh and another gentle peck.

"no! just.." you met his gaze, suppressing your own smile at the sight of his cocked eyebrow and lofty smile, "just thinking about the next time i'll be able to come back."

another lie, but he didn't know, face softening at the pleasant thought. "you'll hear about it at the play tomorrow, but lord tybur's inviting all of marley's new allies to join hands against that island. things are gonna get busy from now on, and who knows? maybe you might have to come back and make another visit."

"here's to hoping." the hands on his cheeks wandered away to lace under his arms, forearms resting on his solid back and fingers gingerly grasping his shoulders, "i wouldn't mind spending a few more nights like this.."

"no need to be shy, princess," he smirked, punctuating the phrase with a more heated kiss that made your heart pick up its pace once more, the taste of you still discernible on his tongue, "you can be more honest than that, i won't tell on you."

you didn't correct him on your false designation this time, starting to enjoy it as more of a pet name than an official title. you felt the heat of arousal that had been dampened by your foresight flicker back to life when he dipped his head down into your neck, nipping and kissing at the array of marks he'd left behind, shifting his position so he could line himself up with your drenched cunt. you didn't realize you'd been waiting with baited breath until he eased himself inside of you, your shaky exhale drawing out into a low moan, the desire to be quiet completely forgotten as he started out at a slow, deep pace.

"fuck, i'll never get tired of this." he muttered, each thrust driving little pants and whimpers from your parted lips.

he seemed to want to draw out your intimate exchange as long as he could, knowing that you wouldn't last all night but wanting to savor this time nonetheless. and you were grateful for that, just as you were grateful for how he paid such special attention to make sure he always left you satisfied, or how he'd always managed to slip in those stupidly sweet comments that made you feel alight with a carefree airiness you hadn't felt in so long before you met him.

so the evening drew on, a cycle of whispered words and messy kisses, his grunts and groans mixing with your own breathy whimpers and whines, limbs tangling together to hold your bodies close and hips rolling to meet the others'. you came apart in his hands more time than you cared to count, more focused in how he would moan against your mouth when your nails raked down his back hard enough to leave reddened scratches over his tanned skin or memorizing the hazy look in his eyes when he stared down at you with that fuck-drunk grin, clearly spent but not wanting to throw in the towel until he'd given it his all.

satisfaction only came after you'd both finally reached the point of complete exhaustion, sticky with sweat and greedily gulping in gasps of the room's hot air, somehow still finding enough energy to breathily giggle at your tired expressions when you turned in bed to face each other. you waited until your skin had cooled off before you moved over to him, humming contently at the feeling of his strong arms doing most of the work of pulling you closer.

"come to the festival with me tomorrow." he said, voice low as it reverberated in the ear that was pressed to his chest.

"was that not already the plan, soldier boy?" you hadn't expected for your murmur to sound so tired, eyes already too heavy to keep open, the hand that was carding through your hair not making it any easier to cling to your waning alertness.

he let out a small chuckle, whether it was at the snippy remark or the new moniker you couldn't tell. "just making sure, princess."

the silence that settled around you both was natural, almost comforting, allowing you to hear the way his breathing had begun to steady out, and the slow beat of his heart that had just been racing alongside yours minutes ago. despite all your physical fatigue, you found yourself unable to fall asleep with him, the weight of all your thoughts keeping you anchored to consciousness. it didn't feel like tomorrow was the end, you weren't ready for the finiteness of reality to settle in just yet.

you nestled your face closer to his warmth, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to keep in the tears that had begun to well within them. it wasn't right, it wasn't fair, you deserved better than to have this happiness ripped away from you just as fast as you'd found it, he deserved better than the deceit and never-ending series of lies than you'd been stringing him along with.

"porco," you breathed, so quietly that you could barely even hear yourself, "i lo.."

you stopped. you couldn't say that. you couldn't think that.

you felt the tear that had slipped down the side of your face drip onto his chest, your arms around him hugging him tighter as you drew in a few deep breaths to calm yourself. you eventually forced yourself to sleep, knowing that you'd need it for the long day ahead of you, and hoping you'd find an escape from the unforeseen circumstances of your guilty conscious in your dreams.

the next day came and went so quickly, filled with loud music and chattering crowds and so much laughter, a happiness that allowed you to lose yourself in the fun of it all as you and him ate and drank from as many stalls as you could find. there were foods and desserts that you'd never seen before in marley or in paradis, curious instruments and street performances that he obviously wasn't used to either based on the eager sparkle that gleamed in his eyes. your feet were sore by the time the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the entire city as you exited the avenue that had been bustling with life all afternoon now steadily emptying out as everyone readied themselves for the show that lord tybur would be hosting in the square.

you didn't let go of his hand as you both wandered down the city streets towards the square, worried that your palms would sweat or your fingers would tremble, giving away how much you were dreading reaching your final destination. you kept the smile that had been entirely genuine up until minutes ago plastered on your face, unable to come to terms with the inevitable end that was just a few meters and a side street away. and when the lines of wooden benches and large stage finally came into view, you felt that sinking feeling of your heart give way to an cold emptiness caving a hole in your chest, only able to follow him along as he guided you out of the walkway and onto an empty place on the sidewalk.

"i have to go sit with the rest of my unit, but i'll see you after the show, alright?" he told you without a second thought, entirely sure of the fact that he might have the chance to sneak you away for a few more indulgent moments before you had to return to your home country.

you swallowed down the lump in your throat, lips struggling to maintain their shaky smile as you answered. "definitely. we'll meet again here?"

he nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. you tried not to make the deep breath you took to steady yourself obvious, balancing up on your toes to press one last lingering kiss across his lips. it didn't last nearly long enough, only able to catch a hint of ginger and lime from the last drink you'd both shared before he released your hand and started on his trek to his seat, turning to give a wave and a smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the crowd.

as soon as he was out of your sight, you pushed down all the conflicting emotions that had been threatening to smother you, not allowing yourself to cry even as you ventured away from the stage. the show would be starting in less than five minutes, and it wouldn't probably take more than ten for eren to give his cue.

you couldn't get that last image of his face out of your head, eyes bright, smiling widely down at you, so entirely unaware of the chaos that would unfold just after the curtain call. buildings would be destroyed, people would die, people he most likely knew and spoke to longer than he was aware of your existence, and a portion of the fault fell on your shoulders. and even from a block away you could hear the vibrant cheers of the crowd as the curtain rose, your brisk pace turning into a near run as you tried to escape the sounds of the townspeople, tried to forget the impending doom hanging over you as the go-time for the operation to lay siege on marley drew nearer and nearer with every step.

#porco galliard x you #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard smut #m.nsfw

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sweetygirl90 · 4 years ago

Note

How did frisk realize they're enby?

It’s long to explain and I don’t have time right now for a comic :( So...

I made a One-Shot! I usually explain myself better by writing than drawing. I just want to clarify that this is Frisk’s personal experience, it doesn’t have to be the same as other people.

I’m a spanish speaker so... I did my best translating this! I hope it’s good. This is from Frisk POV (something like that) so I made use of “he/him” pronouns at beginning.

“Don’t belong”

It was still late afternoon, Frisk knew it because the big clock that hung on the living room wall. He was lucky to have it, because guessing the time just by looking through the hole he had fallen into was not very efficient. Many trees covered the sky from there and not having a wide view of the horizon hindered him more. In other words; looking at the sky wasn’t an option.

He had fallen underground a few days ago after what he hoped was his last reset. He knew perfectly what awaited him behind the enormous door of the ruins, he knew that sooner or later he would have to venture beyond that great portal to finish what he had started by falling into that world. He had promised that this would be the last time he would restart things if he got a good result and was not forced to go back to the beginning due to a failure, but until then he wanted to prolong this as long as possible. So sure everything would work out? Maybe, but if he ended up failing he would have a chance to repeat this again.

Yes, it wasn't very responsible to keep procrastinating like that, but could they blame him for it? From his first meeting with Toriel, something told him that next to him he would find his home, a place where he belonged, and it was difficult to detach himself from that new reality.

He didn't want to leave all of it just yet. Each moment with Toriel only became more enjoyable than the last. He was beginning to placidly get used to waking up feeling the soft fur of her muzzle brushing against him when she was going to wake him up with a warm hug and a kiss, he had memorized her characteristic aroma of caramel and cinnamon, unconsciously filing himself in those smells that comforted him. He wanted to continue that home routine a little more, he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could before he got into his work.

He wanted to be just an ordinary kid before he was the hero everyone expected him to be.

"And then the prince of water and the prince of fire got married and lived happily ever after... The end!"

Frisk smiled, raising another piece of cinnamon and butterscotch pie to his mouth as he watched comfortably curled up on Toriel's lap at the illustration of both characters from the storybook. If he was honest, he was at an age where he had lost interest in children's stories a bit, but he could never turn down the woman when she offered to read him one of them and she did it with such dedication and emotion. She even sometimes interpreted the voices of the characters changing the tone, although sometimes he lent her his help with that.

Most of the repertoire of stories didn’t stray from the typical fantasy trope with princesses, princes, knights, witches and wizards but... It was curious how monsters could interpret things in so many different ways. He swore that if he had taught this book to the adults in his orphanage they would have been shocked demanding to know who the degenerate was that would write such bestiality for the children to read.

The adults saw something frightening, he for the part of him only saw two princes in love in a nice simplistic illustration. He hadn't stopped to observe until now that monsters saw these things so naturally, as if it were something from day to day. Perhaps for them the plot twists of princesses escaping from their kingdoms to marry witches was already something of a cliché.

"Ah, what a beautiful story." The monster sighed, closing the book and setting it aside. "Did you like it, my child?"

Frisk nodded smiling, letting her gently stroke his hair. He almost always heard a derogatory comment from his ghostly companion in such cases, but they had been strangely quiet, listening intently to the narration all this time.

“I loved it.”

He lifted some of the pie back to his mouth, allowing himself to be comfortably pampered by Toriel's matted hands. Frisk still could not find a way to begin to describe how much he enjoyed her continuous displays of affection, how much he loved that woman who, even with a broken heart after so many losses, had love to give to the helpless children who fell into that underworld due to misfortune. There was no space for joy in his heart after having longed for since he was aware of the unconditional love of a relative, and that even after having lost all hope she had crossed his path.

He didn't care that she was a monster, he didn't care about anything anymore. He loved Toriel, she was his mother, and he wanted to stay with her.

Yes... He would, if he managed to free them all and no one would separate him from her side.

"Glad to hear it, my dear."

Frisk sensed her genuine happiness in her blue eyes and wished she could know just by looking at him how infinitely happy she made him just sitting there, looking at him as if his mere existence meant something to be grateful for. Toriel was like that with him, she made him feel valuable just by staring at him.

How was he able to coldly grip the knife against her? How did he have that stupid primal urge to harm her? Who did he think he was to see her as if she were nothing more than a dusty pothole that he stepped on as he left the ruins?

He regretted so much... He really regretted it. Even if she was ignorant of his sins, now Frisk wanted to show that he could be worthy of her, that he could make Toriel very happy. If she wanted a perfect and loving child that is what he would give her, although it was not very difficult to get it when he willingly wanted to follow her everywhere.

When his adventure came to an end he would strive to fulfill the fantasy of a happy family. He would be obedient, well behaved, loving... He would be the perfect child, he could not miss this opportunity.

Frisk had already been rejected by so many families... His heart would not bear another rejection, much less after he had tasted the true joy and warmth of home.

No matter the cost, even if it meant suppressing that part of him that he screamed for out in the open... He would do it to preserve this illusion.

He would be a good boy… Boy… Why did it still not sound good to say it like that?

"Oh dear… Look what time it is. It will be late for us to go grocery shopping and recalibrate the puzzles in the ruins.” Toriel watched the clock strike 4:30, patted his head once more, and got up after he got off her lap with help. "I'll find the bags to go out, while you can go change, my child."

Frisk nodded and went to his room. Something that had motivated him to stay with Toriel for a few days before inevitably moving on to Snowdin was his curiosity about what was outside the house. If he remembered something well from the books, it was that the ruins were much bigger than it appeared to the naked eye, after all the monsters used to all live there before moving further into the cave and finding the other cities that today they know as Snowdin, Waterfalls, Hotland and New Home.

He had watched from the balcony that the city of Old Home stretched beyond what he had ever thought or stopped to look at. There were few monsters that from time to time walked the streets doing their daily lives, but they were enough to keep the city inhabited and sustained. Too bad he didn't have a chance to visit it and see it up close... Until today.

He searched the closet for something to wear. He hadn't changed his pajamas since he had awakened, and although he was very comfortable he admitted that it was a bad habit as a result of not leaving the house every day.

His sweater had gotten dirty the day before after getting too close to an old fountain in the ruins and falling inside. How was he to know there was mud at the bottom of the pond? The water was crystal clear, but the darkness in the corner prevented him from seeing all the details. But he wasn't that clumsy, he was sure Flowey had pushed him! Damn impatient flower. He knew how boring it was to wait for the flower to finally deign to move things forward, but he'd already warned Flowey that he didn't want to be pressured. Frisk would decide when to do it, he would not stay in the ruins forever.

He was lucky that there was some clothing of his size that Toriel could lend him. Could it be that it belonged to Prince Asriel? That made him feel a bit guilty wearing the clothes of Toriel's dead son, but since there was nothing else… There wasn't much left to choose from.

Frisk took out some things and put them on his bed so he could choose better. He knew it was just a grocery shopping outlet, but he didn't want the monsters to think that Toriel was raising a lazy person either. Never! There were many things, generally striped shirts that almost always shared the same color range. Was it customary for children in the basement to wear stripes? Monster Kid mentioned it high above, but he wasn't sure. Perhaps this was a signal for him to begin to investigate a little more in depth about monster culture.

Going back to his clothes… Nothing convinced him at all. And that he was not demanding, he alone believed that yellow and green did not suit him very well.

He looked among the things that were hanging on the hangers, there were very warm coats, hats, scarves and... An elegant tuxedo with a tie and everything. That made him smile a bit. Even in this underground life did the royal family have events where they wore elegant clothes?

His gaze then hit something he hadn't noticed so far, an immaculately white sleeveless gown hung between two coats, hidden between the two. Frisk took it off the hook curiously and leaned it against his chest to check that it was for someone small like him and yes, it was.

Why would Prince Asriel have one of these? Maybe it was a mistake. The adults were very explicit with their instructions "boys don’t wear skirts."

He himself had learned the hard way, with punishment and humiliation that it was not appropriate, no matter how much it hurt.

"Those aren’t Asriel's clothes… But mine.”

Frisk left his thoughts for a moment to turn to his ghostly companion, who crossed their arms and with a skeptical look just floated beside him.

"Asriel's clothes stayed in New Home, I think... Mom took my things with her when she fled to the ruins."

"Oh… Then it's yours."

“Yes.” They confirmed it again, now floating on their back and with their arms crossed behind their neck, giving him a look of displeasure but at the same time disinterest. “I wasn't in my plans to donate my clothes to a brat like you, but since it's not very useful to me… You can have it.”

“Cool! Thanks, Chara.” He thanked them with a smile. Chara might be a bit surprised that he had these courtesy details, but despite the fact that the human repeated that their reason for being there was to make life a mess... He couldn't help but think that being close to them was pleasant. Chara wasn't such bad company, at least not when they was trying to make him feel bad.

Frisk was about to put the dress in the closet, but then he realized something else. If it was Chara's clothes… Why would they have a dress and a tuxedo?

He unhooked this one, too, and spread both sets on the bed, set apart from the rest of the folded clothing he'd pulled out to choose from.

Maybe… The monsters didn't find these things strange either. Could that be it? His hand went to the white dress, he took it, took it with him to the mirror in the room and placed it in front of his chest to have a visualization of how he would fit it. The last time he had used something like this was when he and his best friend Emma exchanged the school uniform secretly from others, it was when after her departure she gave him said uniform to remember her, when the director of the orphanage found him wearing it, when he lost the last gift from the first girl he had ever loved, when...

When he started wondering what was wrong with him. He never hurt anyone when he wore those clothes, did he? Was Emma thinking the same thing too?

"Are you ready, dear?"

Frisk turned, surprised to find Toriel inside the room, already dressed to leave it and staring him with a calm smile. He couldn't help but start to shake and gasp when the goat's eyes focused on the dress, reflexively hiding it behind his back. She was confused.

Frisk couldn't even look into her eyes, he was terrified to do it and find himself with a disappointed or disgusted expression. It was something he had gotten used to enough by now, it was always a reason for the foster homes to decide that he was not the type of child they wanted to adopt.

"E-Eh… I just… I was just looking at what to wear and…"

He stopped abruptly when Toriel crouched down next to him and bringing one of her hands to his chin made him lift his head. She didn't look upset, she had the same peaceful glow in her gaze and that warm smile that she had seen the first day.

"Do you want to wear that dress, honey?" Frisk didn't come out of his bewilderment, but he nodded softly as Toriel got up and went to the door. "Okay, I'll be back, I'll look at for something."

Without further ado, she left the room, Frisk managed to look at Chara, who for the first time seemed to see him with some compassion, perhaps because they understood what he was feeling in those moments.

"You heard mom, don't keep her waiting."

Silently and with some anxiety, Frisk made the change of clothes. His dress was of a very soft fabric and the skirt reached below the knees. Apparently Toriel glued washes to his clothes so it wouldn't get smelling of dust and damp, because now he could smell the fragrance of laundry soap on it.

The only problem he had with this was the zipper in the back, it was difficult to make it go up without it locking in the middle of his back.

"Oh, let me help you with that, dear."

Frisk hadn't noticed that Toriel had returned, but he said nothing and allowed her to help him by zipping up.

“Don't worry, the truth is that it has always caused problems, so most of the time I had to do it.”

He assumed that she was referring to Chara indirectly, and confirmed it just by seeing the half smile that the aforementioned was trying to hide. With the dress already on, Frisk stopped to observe himself at ease in front of the mirror. He didn't look bad at all, he liked it.

Toriel touched his shoulder and offered him something. It was a country hat with a white ribbon around it and some fake flowers of the same color adorning it. Did she go looking for that for him? He didn't ask questions, he just accepted it and settled it on his head. It seemed that both things were made to go together.

"There is no sun to watch out for, but I thought you'd like it.”

Frisk looked back at his reflection and felt fear leave him suddenly. A smile crossed his face and he moved to the side for a twist that made the skirt of the dress move in the air. Toriel gave a light laugh when she saw him wearing that garment so happily.

“I look good?” He asked, doing a couple of poses that would make his mother laugh because of how exaggerated they were, but that made him feel looser from the tension of a while ago. He didn't perceive that this was a forced reaction from Toriel, she looked genuinely pleased about it. It was as if the laws of the surface didn't matter to her… Because they were underground now.

"You look gorgeous, my dear. You're a very handsome boy!"

Frisk broadened his smile for Toriel and didn't fight the urge to hug her skirt with all his might, hoping that maybe she could feel his gratitude in that little gesture. She accepted him instantly, wrapping her warm arms around him lovingly. Frisk wish she didn't notice the pair of tears of relief that stained a tiny space of her garment and then wet her snout when she gave him a pair of kisses near his eyes.

“Thanks… Mom.”

Toriel tightened the hug a little more but without hurting Frisk. He melted her heart whenever he called her that way. "You’re welcome, my little boy. If you are ready we can go now.”

When they parted, they both left the room on their way to the city of Home.

"Or dear... There are many things missing at home and I had barely noticed today. I think we will also buy you school supplies so that you can start classes at home. Better hurry up or it will get very dark by the time we're done.”

“Okay, mom.”

"I have to get you notebooks… One for each subject. I don't want you to be disorganized!"

Frisk nodded as she continued speaking. For Toriel it was already a reflection of her holding his hand every time they went out together and it didn't bother him at all.

He tightened his grip on her hand to keep her in step. She was so big that on occasion he was forced to be faster or take longer steps, this was one of those times. His heart had stopped weighing him down, replacing that suffocating sensation with freedom, feeling light with the air moving his skirt and the end of the hat's bow brushing against his shoulder every time he took a step.

He was happy.

Although something was still bothering him.

. . .

The departure proceeded normally. Frisk and Toriel toured the city buying the groceries that were needed at home. It was not very different from the surface, there were supermarkets with electrical appliances, small shops, stalls to sell fast food, etc. They spent two hours shopping for everything on the list until they filled the bags, which Toriel could carry perfectly on her own and without any effort. Frisk wanted to help her by carrying one of hers, but this was already heavy enough that he could afford to carry one more.

They also went to buy supplies and notebooks as she said. In the old human school he could not afford to use many things because according to the director of the orphanage "it were unnecessary and a silly waste of money", which he understood perfectly, although he came to disappoint him a bit. He did not want to make Toriel spend a lot, however, he didn’t need to ask for anything, since she decided that she needed to buy him colors of all the materials available and to have (paint, watercolors, crayons, chalks, pencils, markers...) because she was afraid he would get bored at home and not have something to draw with.

They both had a good time. They talked about some things, Toriel bought him an ice cream, they decided what they would have for dinner at night, even some monsters greeted Toriel with respect —long ago he would not have understood why but now he knew it was because they remembered her as the former queen of the underground— and monster commented to her more than once that he was adorable. Toriel almost always replied "I know, isn't he a very cute boy?"

He didn't want to sound ungrateful at all, but… Something didn't feel right when he heard her say that. It was not for the compliment, throughout his life he was lucky if some adult remarked something positive about him, especially his appearance. Why now that someone did it, did he continue to feel dissatisfied? It wasn't for the compliment itself, of course not. There were times when Toriel said things like that, but... Something was left over, or maybe something was missing.

When they returned, he helped her organize the shopping and they continued with the routine. It was a bit late to leave so the rest of the duties were left to Toriel for the next day. She insisted that she go alone to recalibrate the puzzles in the ruins, but he wanted to accompany her.

It was no use being persistent because she was able to convince him to stay. She told him that she needed him to stay, as if he bathed in what she did her work then the two of them would have enough time to get ready to go out to dinner at night. It was too tempting an offer not to accept. When had he dined at a restaurant in Home? Never. Maybe at the Mettaton hotel, but he didn't count it as dinner. Sans hadn't even invited him anything!

Frisk accepted instantly, Toriel hadn't been long anyway because she was back in time to help him dry his hair. Apparently she wanted to help him get ready to go out.

For his part, it didn't bother him at all. Toriel had sat with him on the bed to brush his hair, and he was sure that she knew that it was not necessary for him to do it because he rarely ruffled, however Frisk didn’t complain, there was nothing to reproach her. Maybe she just wanted to cuddle him for a while and that's it. Would Frisk make a fuss just for that? Nah!

His mother hummed very softly as she continued her attentions. Her hands were gentle and soft, as if she were afraid to pull his hair by accident. That treatment in conjunction with her voice was the perfect recipe to relax him. If it weren't that dinner was still on the agenda, he would have already fallen asleep.

Frisk remembered again now how lucky he was to have Toriel close, but... Since yesterday he kept thinking about the same thing that had been bothering him forever, but that after yesterday became more evident. He reproached himself for letting such stupidity prevent him from enjoying his mother's affection to the fullest, but… Maybe it wasn't stupid after all.

It made him angry that he didn't understand what was tormenting him. For a boy it should be easy to rate feelings, only he was already pre-adolescent, he wasn't sure if he could continue to call himself a “boy” any longer.

What was this? Why did he feel as if something was missing? Why did he feel wrong? Every time someone made it clear that he was a boy, every time he think about himself with “he” something felt wrong. At first he thought it was due to those prohibitions that humans instilled in him just because of that, because he was a child, but even now that with Toriel he felt free of those restrictions... It was still the same.

"What’s the matter, my dear?"

His mother's voice snapped him out of his musings suddenly, but he struggled to sound like nothing was wrong. "Nothing, just... I was thinking."

“I see.” She said, always parsimonious about everything. “About what? It must be something important for you to be this overwhelmed.”

Frisk was surprised at how quickly Toriel came to that conclusion. It was his mistake to underestimate a mother's suspicion and now he was paying for it, feeling nervous that he didn't know how to explain himself.

"Nothing, it's... It's silly."

"Nothing that worries you is foolish, my dear boy. Your feelings will always be important, and sometimes to deal with it you have to know what causes that feeling.” She explained, putting the brush aside so she could better focus on it. "Talking about how you feel is sometimes helpful."

Frisk lowered his gaze not knowing what to answer her. If anything had remained in him from the adults who had cared for him, it was that those his age used to worry about nonsense, things that don’t deserve to be heard, something that would disappear under the rug. “You have no reason to feel like this. It's not important. People around the world are suffering more than you and you cry for a nonsense!” or “Boys don't cry. Stop being so girly! ” was a common sight around him. Why he would talk about what was bothering him then? Why he would bother trying to express himself? The world had taken it upon himself to let him know that it didn't matter at all, that by drowning in grief he would learn a thing or two that would serve him well in the future.

And now… It was shocking that Toriel told him that after all, if something distressed him, it wasn’t a foolish at all.

"I won't force you to tell me anything if you're not comfortable with it, Frisk. But I want you to know that if something bothers you… You can tell me, I will not judge you and I will listen to you.”

Frisk looked in front of him. In the midst of his hesitation to choose what to wear for dinner he had left the dress on the bed next to Chara's tuxedo he had found the day before. He knew that he had to choose one of the two, and not that he bothered to use one of them, but... Thinking about it too much gave him a different meaning to things.

He wanted to tell Toriel everything he was thinking, but his mind was a mess. He didn't know where to start, he didn't even understand what was happening to him! How was he going to put into words something he didn't know? It was so frustrating! Now that he was given the freedom to speak he didn't know what to say.

"I just… I don't know why sometimes… I don't know, I feel like there's something wrong with me."

Hearing his words, Toriel decided to move beside him to speak comfortably. She didn't say anything, she was still silent to give him permission to speak.

"It's like I don't belong anywhere, like I don't... Like I don't fit in. You know what I mean?"

"Uhm… I think so."

Frisk decided to continue, he knew that Toriel still did not understand where he wanted to go, even he did not know!

"It's just that... People always say you were born to be something, but... What if I don't like that something? Where I should go? Because they say that there are only two paths and nothing else, but... I don't want to choose any. I don't want the path I'm supposed to go and I don't want the second one either. They say "you are this or that" but... I think then I am nothing.”

They were both silent and he was beginning to regret having spoken. His mother surely didn’t understand what he was talking about. Frisk sighed in the midst of his frustration with a lump in his throat, he didn’t want to cry, however he could not continue with that tightness in his chest.

Frisk didn't know how far Toriel's tolerance went. What would happen if this completely exceeded it? He had to fix it but in that moment.

“I’m so sorry. I know you have treated me very well and I like it when you flatter me, but I...”

"You don't like it when I refer to you as a boy, do you?"

Frisk looked up at Toriel, still impressed at how easy it was for her to sink into his dilemma as if it were an everyday thing for her. It was just like when she found him admiring that beautiful dress, the way she looked at him hadn't changed at all.

He couldn't understand it. Why was this all right for Toriel? Why wasn't she like other human adults? Why wasn't anyone there that way? Is it that perhaps he had missed something? Why did he end up getting a caress every time he expected a slap? He couldn't find a way out of his own overwhelm and Toriel kept talking calmly, as if she had all the time in the world.

"Frisk, it's okay if you feel that way. Look, I notice how you react to everything and… I don't know how humans deal with these things, but if you think it seems strange or something bad… It doesn't.”

She paused, stroking his hair and then she got off the bed taking the dress and tuxedo. She looked at both garments for a moment and held them up in each hand.

“If you want to choose one that's fine, if you go for a different option that's fine too, if you choose both it's fine, and if you're not ready to choose something that's fine too. It's like when I want to choose cinnamon or butterscotch, I can't! So I create my own options.”

"B-But…" Frisk swallowed, hoping that would take away the lump in his throat and his confusion. "That's the problem. It's not that I'm choosing! It's not what I want, it's what I am What am I? I don't feel like I'm a girl either. So what am I? I don't have a third option.”

Toriel raised an eyebrow, perhaps as if surprised that he said that. "Uhm… Do you know what non-binary gender is, Frisk?"

He cocked his head not knowing what she was talking about, and knew that Toriel noticed because she smiled like when he was going to her with childish doubts.

“There are people who, like you, don’t see themselves as women or men, but as something different. They are not both and it is not that they are nothing, they are only on a third path among the others.” She explained patiently and put the clothes she had taken back on the bed. Frisk was watching her intently, still unable to process that there was an answer to his question. “There's nothing wrong with not being what others expect of you just because of how you look or how you are… Even for the way you were born.”

"But what about you?" He blurted out. That question had come to his mind a second ago and he felt that he would die if he didn't get an answer now. He felt very stupid saying it so suddenly, almost interrupting Toriel, but he couldn't help himself. “What do you think about it?”

"It doesn't matter what I want or think, Frisk. It is your happiness and your way of perceiving yourself. Nothing else matters than your own happiness. How you identify yourself or who you love you should know that everyone should respect it, and never apologize for being like that.”

She declared, and then moved to the basket of clean clothes she had brought with her when she came into the room. Frisk stifled a sigh when she returned to his hands the striped sweater that he had soiled days ago, and that he had missed even though he liked to change his style of dress.

"It doesn’t matter if you are a boy, a girl, or something else… You are still Frisk. That won’t change.”

An involuntary reflex made Frisk hug his sweater, and so he stayed, silent and lost in his own mind as he processed everything Toriel had said to him in his rhythm. So much information had left him somewhat perplexed, more than anything because he did not imagine that there was an option that would leave him satisfied.

"You don't have to know it now, you can keep thinking about it and take your time. I just want you to know that if it bothers you that I refer to you as a boy then I won't. And if you want me to call you by "they/them" instead of calling you by "he/him" like I did when we just met, I'll do it.”

Frisk muttered with his… No, their face still half buried in the sweater. They had a hard time letting the words come out.

“I… I think I like this third way and… “they” would be fine.”

Without having to say more, Toriel sat back on the bed with a satisfied smile. Frisk was still dizzy and dazed, not sure what to say or how to react, they could only respond to their own impulses when the woman touched their shoulder and immediately threw themself into her arms like a small child and began to cry. Toriel sighed, holding her child in a strong, protective hug, letting their crying stop on its own.

Frisk didn't know. Was they crying out of sadness because no one told them this before? Was the rage at this anguish that they carried with for years? Yes, it was all that, but it was also a cry of relief. Now they knew that they were not weird, that there was nothing wrong with them, that there were people just like them who knew how they was feeling including Chara themself.

Frisk knew then that they did have a place to belong.

They let all their tears release them from that stormy regret and let the goat's maternal affection slowly bring them back to reality, ending up warmly cradled in her embrace. They finally found the missing piece.

"I... Uh... Jeez.” They laughed through tears, still not letting go. “You must believe that so much drama just because of this gender stuff is silly.”

"I don't think gender identity discovery is silly. Maybe you don’t understand why it is so important to know it, but... I think it is difficult to judge when you don’t feel the pain in the hearts of others, much more when I know that you don’t come from this world.”

Frisk nodded with a sigh and finally pulled away from Toriel as she wiped their tears away.

"So… You know what you want to wear to dinner, my child?"

"I want to wear my sweater."

#ask #answer #together at last au #undertale #frisk #toriel #enby frisk #chara #enby chara #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #sweetgirl90

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kookxin · 4 years ago

Text

STRIPED; kth

°§°

Pair¬ Taehyung×you(though she has a korean nickname)

Genre¬ hybrid au! soulmate au! fluff, slightly mature, marking, cuteness overload

Synopsis¬ young adult Eunbin never knew the true meaning of hormones until her closest friend, a tiger hybrid taught her.

Words¬ 2.6k

°§°

You were 6 when a 12 years old black siberian tiger hybrid had arrived in your home one evening, hiding fearfully behind your dad. Your friendly nature helped overcome his fear for humans, and he became used to having them around. He became family, yours became his. Therefore, it's apt to say that he was your best friend since as long as you can remember. You can't imagine a life without him.

When he first arrived into your life, he was just a child, a mere teenager, yet he took care of the 6 year old you, as if you were related by blood. Even though you were not, you shared a bond stronger than any blood relations. You knew how the other one felt, what they wanted and when. It was sometimes overwhelming, when you felt emotions that weren't your own, but someone else's. But, as you grew older, that became a part of you, a habit, the same goes with your hybrid buddy. You knew when the other one felt down, and you knew exactly how to tend to it. You knew that everyone had a soulmate, that everyone was destined to be with a certain someone, for instance, take your parents. You knew such a couple would be able to feel each other's deepest emotions as if it were their own. And what you'd felt for your Taehyung since your younger days only confirmed it. It was clear, the fact that Kim Taehyung, a tiger hybrid, was your destined mate.

Weird right? A human, a prey, a mate for a tiger, a predator. But that never, ever, altered your love for each other, even though you both hadn't the idea what to name that love, 'cause of your young innocent selves.

But with time, you grew up, so did he. You started going to school, and he was home-schooled. You were 11 when you'd invited a friend of yours to your house for the first time. And that's when you discovered how jealous your striped hybrid could be. The fact that your friend was a boy didn't exactly lighten the situation either. It was a play date, approx 1 hour long, the aftermath of which was a sulking Taehyung, cheeks puffed with anger, ignoring your existence the entire day. Your 11 year old self tried so hard to talk, to ask, to find out the reason for his anger and ignorance, yet he didn't budge from his decision of neglecting you. Finally after numerous failed attempts to get him to talk to you, after dinner, you retired to bed. But habits were habits. It was in routine for you to walk him to his room, kiss him goodnight, before calling it a night.

So you did just that, as soon as he was done with the tuck-in, you immediately hopped to your feet after him, following him to his room. As he went to twist the knob to his bedroom, you caught his wrist with your much, much smaller fingers, and tugged him closer, to tiptoed to his height to place an affectionate kiss on his cheek, and finally backed away to return to your own room. But to your surprise, you were pulled into a tight backhug, with pointy large triangular striped ears tickling your own, and his face in your neck, cheek to cheek. That was also a day, where you'd come to know that, one of his greatest weaknesses, are your kisses.

Your sixteenth birthday was celebrated with double the avidity and zeal, as it was made official to the world that you had found your mate on the same day, and you had found him in a certain tiger hybrid, your Tae. You grew even closer since then. It was timorous at first between you two, as your whole relationship had changed, for you and for the world, but then because your love for each other was the same, and if not, even more, you both became each other's need.

You knew that at some point, you'd have to leave your home to make your own living, therefore, to get a taste of it, you started to work. It was a part-time job in a decent diner, which paid you enough to make you and your family proud of yourself. You were finally able to call something 'your hard earned income', and you were ecstatic. But work also comes with responsibility, therefore there were times you had to work longer than your shift, and came back home tired as ever. Nonetheless, you would flash the largest grin, when Tae would welcome you with open arms and a striped tail wagging behind him, at the entrance of the house. You both would cuddle with each other all night long, while sharing secrets, giggles, warmth, and your love. Those were the kind of nights where you'd go blind to everything but your soulmate.

There were times when the 22 year old tiger would lock himself away for hours on end in his room, leaving you confused and pondering over the reasons for this behavior. At those times, your parents would just exchange an unreadable look, which had become quite known to you, yet you couldn't know what that actually meant. Your parents would give vague answers when you'd ask, and brush you away, or deviate from the topic. Those were the only times your parents would be worried about a tiger being your soulmate.

At night, when you'd miss him, you'd quietly make your way and stand in front of the door which separated you, but never knock, and try to feel his emotions on the other side. You'd hear what seemed like whimpers and moans, but you'd never dare knock, as told to you by your parents.

There had been an instance, where as usual you'd made your way to his room, standing outside the door, like you usually did. But what had startled you were the deep sounds which were split between growls and moans, and the next thing you knew was the heavy scratching on the other side of the door, and you felt him. It was as if he wanted to be out, but at the same time he was refraining himself. And that very moment you felt his silent plead, for you to go away. With tears in your eyes, you had run for your room, where you stayed awake on your bed the entire night.

You had searched the entire net for information, as your parents were zip lipped on this, and had finally concluded, that when he would lock himself in his room for hours without seeing you, your mate would be facing his heat. It was an animalistic urge to mark and mate with your partner, which was almost impossible to control. Therefore, as you were underage and unprepared for such a commitment yet in your age, he would suffer through his thing alone.

You wanted to, with all your heart, but couldn't help him through his pain, unless you were an adult. So you'd support him morally, you'd sit in front of his room the entire night, covering your scent with lotions and perfumes, and share his pain through the separating doors.

As you crossed 18, and your mate, 24, you decided to move out of your childhood home, to make you own life. Your parents had an apartment on the other side of the city, well furnished with all you could need. So with your belongings and your mate's, you both moved into your new place, your new home.

Half a year through living comfortably in your apartment, here you are, on your black leather couch, scrolling through your Instagram, with a furry head on top of your lap. The television was blaring nonsense into the silence, not getting any attention from the members of the living space. The black siberian tiger hybrid had recently dyed his hair jet black, to match with his hair, the inspiration being his best friend, a cat hybrid, Yoongi, who had dyed his hair blonde.

You are enjoying a video of the cutest cat on Instagram, when a hand grabs your wrist, bringing it to his head. Knowing this gesture very well, you start playing with his hair, twirling a few strands around your fingers, and purr runs out his lips.

Wanting to add a comment on the recently posted picture of your friend, you take your hand back unconsciously to hold the device better. Tae huffs in annoyance, which you fail to hear. He tugs your wrist back to his head, and you mutter a 'sorry' absentmindedly, still very focused on your phone, and run your fingers through his hair lightly. He closes his eyes in peace.

A few minutes pass, and you withdraw your hand again unconsciously, to type a message, and Taehyung has had enough. He hastily sits up, snatches away your phone, and tosses it to land luckily on the single couch. He then glares at you with hooded dark eyes that takes your breath away, literally. He then comes back again to settle his head down on your lap, and you inhale shakily. There is something about that look he gave you, and you read the underlying message in it, which basically meant that he's the dominant one.

Without having to be said, you start running your fingers through his locks, a rouge on your cheeks and you gulp, as he stares up at you with the same hooded dark eyes as a few moments earlier.

Your fingers tense, as he leans up a little to run the tip of his nose on your wrist, his eyes still boring into yours. Your fingers pause on his scalp, when he inhales the scent on your skin, and a smirk curved the side of his lips.

"You smell like me. I like it."

He is octaves lower than his already deep voice, and that, you find incredibly sexy. Why, you don't know yet, but, your body says you want to. So you lean down and place your lips on his forehead, as if you don't own your body anymore, and keep the contact of your skins firm. A low growl leaves him, and your lips curve up against his skin, knowing that your kiss is working its magic like every other time.

You withdraw yourself millimetres back to stare into his eyes, which turn darker than ever in front of your own. You feel the air around you grow hotter by the second, and there's sparks around you, and in your eyes. Currents are felt where you're touching and have touched, and they flow straight to your hearts, which are beating louder than ever.

You slightly angle your head and move slightly to the left, which make your lips hover right above his. You feel his every breath against your lips, which makes you look at his, and wonder how can his every feature be so very perfect.

You brush your lips on his, and exhale softly, not being able to take it anymore.

"Do it, Eunbin-ah. Kiss me..." His voice is a mere whisper and you do as told, without making him do so twice.

You kiss him.

Your very first kiss.

His very first kiss.

It's a feeling like never before, for the both of you. It's just a mere contact of lips on each other at first, then a little movement adds to the feeling, making it slow and passionate, but then the greed to feel more drives the both of you to do it with extreme fervour, zeal, and ardour.

The air around you energizes with the heated and frenzied gestures to convey your love to each other. You are fully lost into it, and your head move to cup his chin and head. His tongue gently grazes your upper lip, which brings you back to the world. You release a low moan, and instantly feel heavily embarrassed, but he eases it with a chuckle which warms your entire chest.

You pull back a little, to dive into the windows to his soul with your own, and witness the desire in his eyes colour his entire orbs black, just like the fur on his ears. You bring your fingertips just behind his striped black and white triangular ears, and rub the fur gently, and his eyes are shut immediately, squeezing in what you read as pleasure. His eyes open again, and there's hunger in them, along with words only you could read in the entire universe. He wants to mark you.

Without a word spoken, you bring your head down again, this time angling it in such a way that your neck is directly in his reach. Your lips graze his cheekbone and his human ears are well in reach for you.

Your eyes close shut immediately, when he leaves a kiss on your neck. He then attaches his mouth to your skin, leaving open mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, to your collarbone, and back. He finds a spot on your neck, which instantly makes you shudder, and he immediately starts licking just there. Your body grows hotter, with heat rushing up your neck, to your cheeks, and down to your stomach. You feel your stomach coil as he opens his mouth over your skin and starts sucking the skin there. He starts marking you.

As he sucks, you can feel his tongue licking simultaneously there, easing out the stinging sensation. You gasp, when his teeth graze and nibble on your sensitive spot.

The television is long forgotten, and Taehyung can only hear your heavy breathing and soft, low moans. He feels his heart jumping in his chest, he fears at a point, that it would come out.

Your fingers find again, his sensitive ears, and you start caressing them. He hums against your neck, the vibration sending shivers throughout your body.

He slowly detaches his mouth from your skin, and licks it carefully. He finally kisses it, possessively, then draws you closer by grabbing your neck and kisses you on the forehead, and then on the lips. This one is slow yet possessive, lustful yet passionate. It is beautiful, the moment and the atmosphere, which has turned from something fervent and fierce, to impassioned and heartfelt.

The mark you have on the neck is fresh, turning a beautiful deep purple, indicating that someone owns your heart and you.

You both have a newer connection now, and you can feel it in your chains, and in your heart, which is now connected to his.

When you look into his eyes now, you see him differently, he is the same Tae you had met in your childhood, but you see him now, as a grown up, young hybrid.

You see him as your soulmate, your life.

You grin at him, when his eyes run from yours, yet returning a sheepish grin. You cup one of his cheeks, and while caressing it, lean in and place a kiss just below his Adam's Apple, and grin again, feeling him gulp and release a shaky sigh. You lean up again, to look into his eyes, which you find already on you.

He hurriedly stands up and pulls you up with him, dragging you across the living room and into the bedroom, defeating all those who questioned your unity, the unity of a hybrid and a human, a predator and a prey.

°§°

Black Siberian Tiger

Do not copy storyline.

¬ Hajin

#bts kim taehyung #kth x reader #oneshot #hybrid #bts kth

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summonerscenarios · 4 years ago

Note

Whoops, Looks like the protagonist has been doused with water. Enough that it's made their shirt basically see-through and the wet fabric is defining their physique. The Summoners guild members see this first-hand, what are their reactions? (Extra points if the protagonist is unconsciously making an appealing pose.)

Ah yes nothing like flustering our fav Summoners~ I know that these were supposed to be spicy but honestly I think they turned out more funny than anything lmao. Hope ya still like em hun~!

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Toji

It had been raining during classes - you’d noticed it starting up earlier on and had promptly distracted yourself from the rest of the class to focus on watching the raindrops race down the window. By the time class lets out it’s died down to a light drizzle which you can tell everyone is thankful for not having to head back in a downpour, though the pools of water that have collected along the gutter and pavements are deep enough that your shoes practically disappear into a puddle when you accidentally stepped into it on the way out. You’re so preoccupied trying in vain to shake as much water off of your now soaked socks as you can that you end up falling behind Toji, reaching the crossing by the time he had already crossed over to the other side. Making a move to step out into the street you barely even leave the pavement before a car comes racing past, ignoring the lights and just barely missing you as it all but sends a wave of water right into your face.

The force is enough that you stumble back, whirling around to cuss out the driver as you storm across the road and spit out what water had managed to get into your mouth when you screamed with growing disdain. You’re so pissed at your bad luck that you don’t even think to check the state of your poor uniform before you suddenly feel something draped across your shoulders the second your feet touch the pavement on the other side. It’s Toji’s coat, and when you turn to him you can see he’s trying his damn hardest to look anywhere but at you with a steadily reddening face. He warns you that the water has turned your shirt practically translucent, and to hold onto his jacket until you can find a better alternative, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he won’t even make eye contact with you after spotting your rain-sodden state.

You laugh and joke that it’s not the first time he’s seen under your shirt, watching his face turn and even prettier shade of red as he’s quick to correct you that patching you up is different, and to be more careful with what you say before others assume the wrong idea. Sure it’s a bit of a killjoy if you want to tease him about it further, but you’re grateful that he gave you his jacket nonetheless, burying your nose into the fabric and sighing at the welcome warmth it provides against the cold chill of your soaked clothes. It smells just like him and the cozy feeling of it makes you forget all about your anger at the driver as the two of you begin to head back to the dorm rooms, not noticing the soft look Toji gives you watching you snuggle into his uniform jacket.

Ryota

You don’t start regretting leaving your dorm room without an umbrella until you’re halfway to your meeting point with Ryota, where what was once a short drizzle becomes a full on downpour. You’re fortunate enough that it doesn’t last long, but by the time it finally lets up you already feel soggy and cold and ready to head right back, and you probably would if you hadn’t promised to meet up at the new dessert shop in town to try out as many prime baked goods as the two of you could carry. Plus it was his treat - and no amount of rain was going to stop you from being treated to free desserts! When you finally arrive at the meeting place you spot Ryota before he spots you, shaking off the last of the rain from his umbrella before he closes it up and you don’t think twice about approaching him.

When you greet him you watch as his expression lights up and he spins around to greet you, however whatever greeting he may have had for you instead comes out as a gasp and flustered rambling when he gets a good look at you. You’re confused, head tilted and hands on your hips as you try to make out what he’s saying, catching ‘shirt’ and ‘rain’ before you finally take a proper look at your state after running through a downpour. Your shirt took the brunt of the rainfall, the white fabric not faring well against the water and clinging to your skin, and while you don’t really care that it’s see through the fact you don’t have a dry pair on hand sucks. Frowning you pull at the fabric and grimace at the noise it makes as it unsticks from your skin, suddenly wishing that you’d really thought ahead and brought an umbrella.

You don’t think Ryota’s face can get much redder until you contemplate if it’s better to just take the shirt off, and he jumps in to stop you before you can actually pull it off to ask if you’d just like to borrow his school jacket instead. He worries that the cold weather mixed with your soaked clothes is going to lead to you catching a cold so he feels a lot better about giving it to you than to just stand around for who knows how long. That and he gets super flustered at the sight of your physique beneath your shirt - not that it’s bad or anything! If anything you look amazing! He can see how much work you’ve put into training because of how the shirt clings to your muscles, and your body shape is more pronounced like this and it honestly looks rather appealing. But that train of thought just leaves Ryota blushing even more and even more insistent that you take his coat so you don’t get cold, which you do after making him promise that you guys can still head in and grab some dessert before you have to worry about getting changed.

Kengo

It was an honest accident but Kengo’s 100% convinced that it's your fault. It isn’t uncommon for the Summoner’s to pull pranks on each other - hell you guys still liked having fun like any other students, and knowing each other’s weaknesses like you guys do means one of you always has the advantage when a prank war starts up. You’d roped Kengo into helping you balance a water bucket on top of the statehouse door, needing his help to give you the leverage to balance it so that it would fall as soon as the door opened. This was all in the name of revenge for some prank Hanuman has pulled on you last week, you didn’t go into details but hell if you need some help to get back at him Kengo’s totally game for it!

Sitting on Kengo’s shoulders you’d began inching the bucket against the rim of the doorframe, constantly testing to make sure that it wouldn’t fall if you were to let go the whole time - you were taking your sweet time, ignoring the hushed whispers to hurry up before. This had to be perfect. If Hanuman caught sight of it any time before it hit, you knew your prank would have been for nothing - you’d been putting thought into it for a while and you’d be damned if this wasn’t planned down to the T. Eventually you finished up, coaxing Kengo to take a step back so that you can admire your handiwork before waiting for the chaos to unfold...

But then the door slams open, smacking Kengo in the face and sending you falling ass over tit off of his shoulders and onto the floor. The force makes the bucket teeter, and for only a second you’re hopeful that it will fall away from you; but the clatter it makes as it proceeds to dumb it’s entire contents onto your head is quick to dash any of those hopes and you screech at the cold water that covers both you and the floor surrounding you. Groaning in disappointment you vaguely register the frenzied apologies of Ryota who was the one who opened the door but you’re more upset about being doused in water. Kengo’s still nursing the hit to his face when he hears you complaining about how the water’s soaked your clothes and doesn’t think anything of telling you to just take em off if they’re that wrecked until he turns back around and sees that you’ve taken his advice and tugged off your shirt to start trying to soak up the mess before Agyo spots it. It’s not like he hasn’t seen your muscles before, however that’s been during training and fights so he hasn’t actually gone out of his way to look at your physique. Seeing how you look now though Kengo can’t help but stare, watching as you huff and flop back on the floor in defeat. The moment’s only broken by Agyo’s distressed scream when he sees the state your ‘prank’ has left the poor safehouse in, the lion dog storming over to give the two of you an earful for making such a mess.

Shiro

Setting up weekly meetings at the safehouse had become part of the routine for the Summoners - it was a safe place where you could all meet up and not have to worry about app battles and focus on making plans, finishing schoolwork or just hanging out. Shiro’s always the first one to show up, being the one who usually calls for these meetings in the first place he enjoys the few moments of peace on his own before the other members begin filtering in after school hours. This time was no different, and after making sure everything was tidy enough he settled down in a chair with a book to pass the time. He’d gotten texts from Ryota and Hanuman that they’d be a bit late to the safehouse and of course Kengo just shows up without warning so there’s no word from him, so Shiro expected that he’d have a little more time to himself while he waited.

That is until the safehouse door slams open. He can already hear you cussing up a storm before you yell out to ask if anyone’s got some spare clothes; confused, Shiro gets out of his seat to see what’s happened right as you round the doorway and almost immediately he can feel a flush rising to his cheeks. You’ve already shucked off your shirt and shoes leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor and you’re halfway through hopping out of your socks when you almost run into him, apologizing for the mess. Shiro hadn’t even realized it was raining outside but you’re soaked through, trekking puddles in your wake and looking absolutely miffed about the whole situation; however he’s more painfully aware of the fact that you’re now stripping off said wet clothes as you move further into the safehouse.

You’re just about to reach for the next item of clothing when Shiro’s brain kicks back into gear and he spins around to catch up with you, hurriedly explaining to wait until he gets you something to dry off before you resort to pulling everything off, successfully convincing you to take a seat next to the heater to warm yourself up while he rushes around trying to find something to deal with the water. He comes back with some that’d been kept stashed in the back for cleanup - they only cover your shoulders but they’re warm enough to do the job and you take them from him with a nod of thanks. You can’t help but notice that Shiro’s pink up to the tips of his ears as he does so, trying to hide the fact that he’s looking with a cough before he retreats back to his chair, and it’s honestly impossible not to chuckle when you catch his eye and he nearly drops his book with how fast he tries to hide his face in it.

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littobin · 4 years ago

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[1:37AM] "thank you so much for saving me. honestly i can't think of what would be of me without you in my life." still a bit immersed in tries of steadying your breath from the previous runaway, you giggle happily in response and hit your best friend's shoulder playfully the moment you heard him talk sweetly, out of this endearing trail of beauty that was his smile you've always thought as better than the sight of the red roses at your house's garden.

without doubts it only took him the simple action of curving his extra thin lips up like he did now, so you'd always feel comfy, no matter the kind of times or hardships you'd be into. even so despite days like this, where you two just ran like crazy down a bunch of streets until you'd get both rescued at your house, to mislead the uptown gang's members whose once again tried to cage moonbin in his magical transformations.

honestly you couldn't believe at all how was it possible to actually exist such few silly people organized like that only to chase after any unusual beings for experiments, in the middle of a modern city. but if you really were to think neither would it be normal for you to have a man who could turn into a whole giant beast right by your side as well, meeting and staying from nights to nights under the moon living the greatest, most hilarious adventures together as long as both of your uni's allowed you two to.

you've known moonbin before as he's been one of your neighbors for years, specifically that kind and friendly type who always talked to everyone in the neighborhood, until he started changing to be more reclusive out of sudden. but since you've got to occasionally find out about his secret, at one night you saw him when you were going to do your laundry and he vehemently asked you to keep it forever or both his safety and search to end his enchantment would be risked, and you promised him to, both of your lives no longer could be the same.

it was just about naturally how you two ended up getting to be good friends and he grew to be one of the biggest source of joy you'd happen to get gifted with by the skies, as of you got to know more the beautiful human he also was. and where ever couldn't you gladly go with him when he'd text you to come in his sneakings to skip out the routine, although sometimes they could bring way too much adrenaline at once. for sure if it came to him, again it'd be worthy for you to do so, over and over. "ahh stop it's nothing, you know you can always count on my guts. and it's just so much fun to."

you state out as your hand goes to ruffle moonbin's dark hair softly, which felt so silky in your fingers, causing both of you to laugh loud in sync by remembering the early scenes. of how you two fooled around the stupid gangers like it was nothing after you've untied him, scared them and made everyone at the late hour on the streets confused to watch both of you running for dear life, all while holding each other's hand between thrilled loud laughs.

just so you kept watching the boy in front of you move a bit closer, you two still sitting on the floor as he started playing with some keychains and laces you had stuck on your long black coat, one habit of his you'd recognize of whenever he felt enthusiasm, his teeth showing off cutely through the way he kept chuckling with his eyes inclined into crescents. "yes it truly was- did you see their faces when i growled though? that was amazing!"

"oh my god bin don't even tell me, it was the best part. next time we really have to bring a camera to record and rewatch it all seriously-"

once again you and moonbin break down in pure amused laughter with your extra remarks, you not being able to help but hold his hand tightly in the process.

moments like these were all you needed to feel that nothing could change or ruin this fulfilling within your chest. out of your repetitive routine there was moonbin beside you, enlightening everything with his presence and standing as your number one supporter. even though all the things that came with his curse, such as his always hungry state specially for rice bowls, hyperactivity and very little sense of his own powerful strength, things as such that nevertheless the trouble they could give, you still liked a lot.

"next time i'll be more careful.. just know you don't have to go through situations you can't handle, i'm the one who's always here to protect you instead, ok?" he said out with clear worry poured over his expression, causing you to let out another tender smile and rub his almost ocean wide shoulders in a comforting way. "i know. but i do this because you're too important to me, that's why i wouldn't hesitate to do it all over again if so."

this time it was the taller one's turn to feel kind of affected by your words, through he strangely felt a beat skip out his heart's pace and a bit of flustering over his stomach, fondness being the only thing to fulfill his pupils with the more he stared at you.

moonbin actually didn't know what hit him to come to act up so weird because of you, nor to make up such a bunch of sensations and warmth all at once. if was it either because of your extremely affectionate eyes, the sweet smell off your hair or just the beyond wonderful feeling of you by whole, but you were immensely important to him too, since when he got the opportunity to be close to you after the night you saw him transforming, but you didn't treat him like the monster he himself knew he was. thanks to you with time he got back to be his normal self before the curse, always bright and talkative, and in some way, somehow he wanted to show you all of this.

"you really should get a reward one day y/n, for real.." he chuckled softly again, as you raised up one eyebrow, wondering what new goofy stuff your best friend would be planning.

"what kind of reward, sir bin?"

with this for some reason moonbin couldn't get his head together at all. lots of thoughts rushed to his mind about what he should better give to you as response, but no one seemed just as right besides what his heart kept incessantly moving him to. so slowly by the proximity you were into, without taking his sparkling eyes off yours he just let his body lean in along to his arms both at your sides through he crawled a bit to you closer and closer to end the gap, stopping when he could touch your nose on his as your lips were just millimeters apart, his hot and a little heavier breathing against yours.

you just stayed still unable to move out of shock, no choices left but to sense your eyes widening the closer he got and the material between your lungs racing like neither of your runaways would be capable to make you feel so. moonbin in the other hand chose to stay this way for a second, sighing while looking at you in such utter adoration, and you swore to dear lord you've never seen something so preciously gorgeous as every inch of his face at that moment, and the fair light blushing tone on it. not even the three am blue moon, compared to all the comets in his chocolatey irises.

"moon, bin.." nervousness took over you in a matter of second through your lids went shut, tugging on the hem of his white t-shirt you gave him last month, which he still liked to wear often. in the same way moonbin closed his eyes too and tightened a bit his strong arms that supported himself at your sides, starting to lovingly rub his gelid nose on yours.

"i want, to do that so bad.."

just when you gulped, flustered by how his soft boyish voice ringed so much more intimate in your ears like he never did near you, before a word could be said moonbin just pressed his lips against your own, the unbearable warmth radiating from him and his typical smell of cocoa shampoo surrounding everything around as well as causing your ears to go off like set on fire, for the first time in a while.

you felt kind of really wrong to do this, since he was one of your most special treasures, one of your most present and sincerest friends ever. yet there he was kissing you slowly, gently nibbling and moving his flushed thin lips that felt too warm, too soft on yours, in a way you'd never express, amidst quiet melting sounds and more attempts to get even closer to you although his much taller muscular figure and large back made you hardly to be seen.

nowhere into your mind you'd be able to imagine any of this happening. but after all it was still him, it still was moonbin, so in the less matter of minute you'd see it there you were already hugging his cuddly waist the way a few times you'd do, and simply letting him go the further he wished to. as through the first opening of his mouth asking for entrance, when you corresponded him it didn't take long so he'd be on top of you, with the heat of his tongue showing up within the kiss to deepen it still ever so gently, and now your hearts to rush loud in sync at the smallest touches, either by your left hand raising unconsciously to touch his chest but soon going back to hold on his waist, or him picking it for a moment to guide your fingers to the warm skin of his neck so he could feel you there.

still it all kind of felt like a dream, even more when after some more softer kisses moonbin pulled away and you were brought back to reality, but everything kept just so clouded of only him. the way he didn't stop staring at you with tenderness overflowing his manly features, the way reddish hues bloomed up his face as he tried to catch his breath, the way the hold of his hand was the same albeit the silence formed among you two. every single thing made the space marked for him grow more and more in your heart, no doubts you've never been so sure.

"you.. are a little sore, right there-" out of sudden you whisper quietly, leaving his hand to brush your thumb besides a little scratch on his cheek, the softest you could. moonbin only closes his eyes for a bit like the creature inside him would when being petted by you and lets out a small blissful smile, what kept your hand in place so you'd just take in the endearing sight.

"i hope you're not mad.."

he spoke a bit more serious although worry came back to his expression one more time, and you could say with your all it was just loving. how would you be ever mad at him, when absolutely nothing about your love for him could change, but increase.

moonbin always made the stars above the city of your world shine bright. and you just hoped more than ever you'd soon enough find how to give back his freedom and get to break his curse. however not having any clue you already did so.

- insp. beauty & beast!au.

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kittensjonsa · 4 years ago

Text

Final chapter. Fluffy smut. That's it, folks! Thanks for being here! Lol Xx

Summary: Sansa and Jon move forward with a step that would change their lives forever. Jon's especially. But he is more than willing, and ready. Now that Sansa had made her feelings known. Rated E.

Chapters 1 to 9

Otherwise, Engaged

I'm so sore,” Sansa whined, splashing water at Jon.

“Aww..I'm sorry baby. Don't hate me but..you were asking for it.” Jon smirked, wiping away the droplets with a washcloth.

“Hmm.. I did, didn't I?” Sansa recounted how she screamed for Jon to pound harder with each stroke he gave her.

Jon leaned forward and gave Sansa a deep kiss. One of many he had given her the night before. He regretted the bites however, now seeing the small dark marks turning up on Sansa's unblemished skin.

“Do you want some more warm water? Maybe it helps?”

Sansa shook her head and looked at the clock on the wall. She couldn't help but chuckle, it was already eleven and they had missed breakfast. No one had called for them, except for a text message that dinged, from Lisa to “keep it down in there” at two in the morning. Obviously, now everyone knew why they didn't turn up for breakfast. Sansa didn't think she could look them in the eye either, so just as well.

Her body ached a bit but nothing compared to the tenderness between her thighs. Maybe it was three years of unresolved, pent up attraction between them or just Jon having superhuman stamina, he had really given to her good. Too good, that Sansa couldn't remember much except screaming his name every half an hour. Just like her, the bed had been given a good pounding too, what with Jon driving her down the mattress and if the noises were any indication, it was probably time for a new frame.

They had only slept a few hours but empty stomachs after the sex marathon drove them out of bed. Thank god for texting.

Lisa, I'm sorry to ask but could you bring some breakfast up for Jon and I? We're really hungry but too tired.

Yeah and I know why. Goodness, what's gotten into you two? Thank god your parents and brothers are on the other side of this very large house. Lucky!

Hehe. I.. have nothing to say to that. You're the best, Lisa! Thanks!

LOL.. I'll put it outside your door. But you can't hide in the room forever. You said yes to a wedding remember?? You need a dress!

“Lisa's bringing the breakfast up. And Gramp's birthday party is this afternoon.” Sansa reminded as she got up to leave the bath.

“And..? You're forgetting something. Our wedding.”

“Damn it, you weren't supposed to remember that,” Sansa groaned, reaching for a towel and wrapping herself with it.

Jon smiled to himself, admiring the view before him as Sansa started her morning beauty routine. “It was unexpected, I'll give you that. But hey, what have we got to lose? We're already engaged.”

Sansa snorted, narrowing her eyes at Jon. “Yeah, a lot of 'unexpected' things popped up last night. I guess.. since we've already.. come this far. Imagine meeting the officer next week, huh?”

Jon winced. He almost forgot about the visa bit. But, he didn't need to pretend anymore. That was one thing off the list.

“We'll sort it out next week then.” It was time to get out the bath and check on his emails. He had been busy playing newlyweds that work hadn't cross his mind.

“Hey, Jon,” Sansa looked at him from the mirror. Jon responded with his arms wrapped around her from behind. “You do know, we have to talk.. about work? How this.. is going to change all that.”

Jon rested his chin on her shoulder and deliberated for a moment. He'd hate to lose her as an assistant but 'wife' was a much better gain. He had promised her Aliser's job once this was all over and maybe it would be frowned upon, but a deal's a deal. He would try at least. The plan was supposed to be easy. Go in, act a little and get out. He didn't count for things to turn out the way they did. Still, he couldn't imagine it any different. This was so much better. Whatever comes, Jon had Sansa, and, that was everything. He thought he had it all, but how foolish he was in thinking that. He'd give her everything, whatever she wanted.

“We will. But for now, we need to get out of this room. And air it… god, it smells of sex.” Jon gave a giggling Sansa a hard peck on the cheek as they both got ready for the day.

It was nice, having breakfast by the fireplace, with Sansa lounging on him reading a manuscript and him, with his arm around her and trying to read work emails. Admittedly, it was hard, his cock especially, seeing how amazing she looked in his arms. This scenario would look good at his house as well. Also, the office with no one around.

The Starks had left them both alone, thanks to Lisa who told everyone they needed to prep for the wedding, when actually it was really Sansa who needed time to recuperate a little. Lisa understood perfectly, after what Jon presumed was a short girl talk by the door when their breakfast tray was dropped off.

“So, I have to try on a wedding dress in a bit so you can't see me in it. And I think Dad will take you out for a fitting as well, I think.”

“Sounds like fun. Though I don't like the not seeing you bit.” Jon shifted his arm nearer to the waistband of her shorts.

Sansa peeked from the booklet, seeing what Jon's wayward hand was up to. She had to admit, how Jon expressing his insatiable need for her turned her on just as much as him touching her.

“Well, it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride and all that.”

“What time are you meeting Lisa then?” Jon whispered, stealing a glance at his watch and adjusting his growing cock at the same time.

“After lunch. Two, I think. Why?”

Jon pushed away his laptop and grabbed Sansa's waist. There was no time to lose. Sansa gave a playful shriek as she came face to face with him.

“That means.. we have time.. to do this.” Jon pressed his lips onto Sansa's neck as his hands frantically undid the buttons of her denim shorts. Sansa sighed as she reciprocated, her hands unbuttoning his Levi's and squealed when she realised he wasn't wearing any underwear. The soft, rock hard flesh spilled out into her waiting hands.

“Ohh.. I do love it when you do that,” Jon groaned as Sansa gave his cock a firm squeeze. She was full from her share of scrambled eggs and toast, but she'd never refuse Jon's cock in her mouth at anytime.

Jon let out a soft moan as Sansa's lips pecked at his erection. The warmth of her mouth as Sansa swallowed him whole - was enough to render him unconscious.

“I have created a monster,” Jon hissed, his lips curling into a smile, gazing at how deftly Sansa moved her tongue around his girth. Jon threw his head back, shuddering from pleasure.

I'm a lucky bastard, Jon kept repeating in his head, reaching round to grab her round bottom. Peeling off her already moist underwear, Jon slid a finger into her wet and waiting cunt. As always, primed and ready for the taking. Sansa hummed her approval and the vibration on his cock was enough to do the job. He had to have her.

“Go slow this time.. Jon, please,” Sansa pleaded playfully as Jon crawled onto his knees and had his fiancée spread eagled before him. Jon did notice a slightly angrier shade of pink greeting him, more so than before but the glistening folds were just as welcoming.

“As my Lady commands,” Jon obliged as his mouth clamped down on her folds. Sansa groaned at the contact, sucking in a breath. She loved his mouth and the talent he had with it. He could do this all day every day, screw the wedding. How she was still up for another round was a question she hoped she didn't have an answer for.

Another finger slid in and Jon wiggled his thumb on her clit. Sansa bit down so hard on her lip she could almost taste her own blood.

“Gods... You are beautiful,” Jon cooed, watching Sansa thrash and quiver, releasing herself to the blissful wave. Skin flushed pink and plump, her hooded beautiful blue eyes and her naked body clothed with mind blowing eroticism - Sansa was a painting. He didn't mind watching her like this all the time. In his apartment, at her place.. in his office. His couch was big enough. It had more space than the one they were on.

“Come fuck me then,” Sansa whimpered, pulling him to her, trembling as Jon's cock took over.

“Oh..wow.”

Sansa's heat was electrifying. Jon took great care as he made his way in, tingling all over as the view proved enough to send him over the edge again. Mesmerised by her folds that clung onto him and Sansa's breathy whimpers - a heady combination that inched him closer and closer to releasing himself in her again. Sansa's ragged breathing and the growing tightness around his length had him barely holding on, as they both inched closer to the edge. Jon grabbed at Sansa's sides, from under her, her legs grazing his cheeks as he pushed on, knowing he'd reach the edge sooner than he wished.

“Fuck gentle.. I want you,” Sansa seized the top of his thighs and shoved him further inside. He howled, as his swollen tip pressed against a hot wall, and the slightest friction was all it took.

This time, it was silent, save for a breath or two. A great height they both had soared to, where no howl or scream could match.

It was magnificent. How he melted into Sansa, emptying every bit of himself in her, in that moment right into the deepest parts of her, where all of time had stopped - and everything was perfect, just as it should be. It was a moment that marked Jon for life.

Panting and gasping for air, he laid down on her feverish body, her breaths matching his own. Perfection. Absolute perfection.

“I.. love you too.” Sansa finally answered back, as she kissed the top of his head, her hands tenderly brushing his sweaty curls away. He didn't need her to say it back, he didn't think she even heard him say those words - oh, but how they made his heart leap in unspeakable joy.

Jon looked up at Sansa as he rested his chin on her chest. This is it. The thing that people try to write about but never quite succeeded. Or perhaps, he never really understood. Till now. With her, he could conquer anything. A master of his own universe, with her by his side. They could conquer anything, whatever life brings.

The One. She is.

“Well.. Let's get married then.”

---

The End.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #fluffy smut #i am done with this au #feels good to have it completed #i feel so accomplished now lol #sorry and thanks for reading #modern jonsa au

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savannahsdrabbles · 4 years ago

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Ocean Song - Part Four

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Special thanks to @cloakedrabbitand @starfiretheninja for beta-reading! ALSO the first three chapters of this fic were basically written back in 2016 when I started the fic. So this chapter officially marks new content! :D

He awakens, head spinning and shaking with disorientation for what feels like the hundredth time in the past 24 hours.

Had it only been only a day? It felt like much longer. Without being able to check the sun, he wasn’t sure how much time was actually passing between bouts of unconsciousness; all he knew was that he had done this several times before. The dead weight of his limbs, the sloshing feeling in his stomach, and the way that the ground spun beneath him had started to feel almost routine.

Blinking heavily, he shook his head and then immediately clapped a palm to his mouth as his stomach rolled in protest. No – he couldn’t be sick here; the thin layer of sand underneath him was not nearly deep enough to bury waste, and he didn’t think he could mentally handle the addition of another strong smell in this already overwhelming environment. Better to wait it out.

The turtle sighed, pressing his forehead into the sand and keeping a palm clamped to his mouth as he slowly took stock. He was laying on his side in the corner of the clear prison, shell to the rest of the room and limbs curled as close to his chest as possible. The metal-cold-hard-rope was still clamped onto one of his legs, forcing him to twist his hips awkwardly so as to remain in this position. The taste of blood lingered in his mouth, making him wonder if he had bitten his tongue the last time he had been dragged into unconsciousness. Or perhaps They had done something to him? All he knew was that everything hurt to varying degree, the worst of which being his head. It felt as if someone had pried open his skull and molded his brain between their palms.

Once he felt certain that the meager contents of his stomach would remain in place, the turtle slowly eased into a sitting position with one side of his body pressed against the clear wall. The surface felt cool and slick on his skin, causing him to shiver as he cast weary eyes around the room.

His prison was still dimly lit this time, which was a blessing in some ways. He vaguely remembered waking up one of the first times, when the room had been flooded with harsh lighting that hurt his eyes and made him want to bury his head in the sand. The sensations were confusing – the sand was unnaturally coarse on his skin, the light above him did not give off any warmth, and everything was just wrong wrong wrong wrong.

There had been Humans in the room at that point – tall ones in white pelts that stared at him and used Spoken Human Words that he wasn’t conscious enough to understand. They’d kept their distance at first, slowly moving back and forth through his hazy vision while every cell in his body screamed at him to run. He had been so tired and confused at that point that he just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but then several of the Humans suddenly stepped forward and opened the wall nearest to him.

His mind had jolted fully awake at that point, though his body remained motionless on the ground. He remembered wanting to back away, chest heaving with panicked desperation as he begged his limbs to move beneath him. The Humans moved quickly and spoke in low voices, almost as if trying to soothe him before one reached out and pressed his head into the sand. He remembered trying to scream as they turned his face away from them, but the only sound he could manage was a high-pitched whine. He gasped in pain as several sharp objects were shoved into his shoulder and thigh, but within seconds the Humans drew back clutching containers of red liquid – his blood.

They returned and repeated the process several other times after that – sometimes when he was awake but too delirious to do much but lean away and whimper. Other times, they waited until another round of gas stole him from consciousness and then crept in. He only knew that something had happened based on the dull ache that ran up and down both arms and the foul scent of Human clinging to his skin.

After the fourth or fifth time – or maybe it had been more? – he began to question whether this was it. Father had always warned him and Brothers to fear Humans, saying that they would likely be killed on sight if caught. Was that what was going to happen next? Was this how he was going to spend whatever was left of his life? Trapped in a small, cold box and being repeatedly gassed and poked and prodded by the creatures he had been raised to fear? And what of Small Brother – was he trapped elsewhere in this prison, undergoing the same fate?

The last thought made his stomach violently roll again.

A small, whining keel had clawed its way up his throat as he wrapped sore arms around himself and started to rock, the metal-cold-hard-rope digging at the skin of his ankle with each movement. Small Brother gone. Brave Brother and Strong Brother gone. Water gone. Gone gone gone alone gone.

“He needs to be back in the ocean!” Red Girl’s voice suddenly floated through his cloudy mind. Yes, that was it.

He’d been angry at first, when he awoke to find her staring back at him. He’d gone against instinct and years of teaching when he had first spotted her, clearly in distress and tangling with a squid that seemed intent to make her his meal. Even Small Brother, with his always-happy-to-help attitude hesitated at the sight of a Human in what they’d always considered to be a safe place. But she was so small and scared, and it only took a moment before they leapt into action.

Had she returned to gloat at his capture? Or to finish him off?

Either way, the fear and anger became too much and he had panicked. He remembered crying out in Family Tongue as he beat on the wall, crying in pain, crying for his brothers, crying for anything that could get him out of this wretched place.

What he hadn’t expected was the equally scared and concerned reaction he received. Rather than reach in and take more of his blood or gawk like the other Humans, Red Girl’s face had creased in worry and she had backed up with palms in the air. Fear scent radiated from her, and he found himself stunned into momentary silence. She had had the same expression when tangling in the squid’s limbs, being trapped and slowly suffocated. She saw him as a threat.

And so he’d taken a chance – a last ditch effort to communicate that this time he was the one in need of rescuing.

She and Boy Human had seemed to understand, talking excitedly between each other in rapid tones that he had to concentrate to decipher. But then the sleeping gas had come again, and when he next woke, the room was empty.

The turtle rubbed at his eyes and inhaled slowly, forcing his body to relax. How long ago had that been? There was no sun or moon here, so he wasn’t even sure how long he had been asleep this time. But they had said that they would help him get home, right? So they had to be coming back eventually.

At least now he knew that Small Brother was safe. The simple knowledge of this lifted weight off of his shoulders and made it easier to breathe. If he couldn’t find a way home, at least his family wouldn’t be losing two Brothers – they’d already had to deal with the loss of Father many moons before.

Voices from outside of his prison suddenly wove their way into his thoughts, and the turtle perked up. Was that them? Had Girl and Boy come back for him?

“Here here! You come back!” he clicked, excitement too great to bother translating into Spoken Human Words. Forcing himself to ignore the dizziness that still clouded his mind, he pulled himself to his knees and beat on the wall eagerly. Across the room, the door handle jiggled and he heard a beep. “You come back help Clever Brother help go back to ocean Home-”

Then the door swung open, and in stepped a red-furred human… but not Red Girl.

***

“It’s bigger than I thought.”

Dr. O’Neil nodded nervously, his eyes focusing first on the turtle and then back at the two solidly built men standing behind him. Between them and the wild animal in the room, he couldn’t help but feel more comfortable with the animal. Muscular arms peeked out from under t-shirts bearing “Oroku Inc.” nametags, signifying the men as “Anton” and “Ivan”. Across the room, the creature barked nervously, dropping to its rear end and scuttling to the far end of the glass containment. “Actually, that’s another interesting detail! Based on the blood tests that we ran, the specimen appears to have DNA most similar to that of a loggerhead turtle, which typically grow to be approximately three feet in length and between 250-300 pounds. Upon arrival, we measured him as being four foot ten inches and 219 pounds – which is significantly longer than most loggerheads, but not proportionally heavier. I would love to be there for the study and dissection – I’m assuming his bones are thinner in order to compensate for his length and allow easier navigation –”

The taller of the men – a lanky black character apparently named Anton - raised a hand to cut Kirby off as he began to speak. He spoke in cool, lilted English with a slight Japanese accent hiding behind his words. “Yes, I’m sure Dr. Stockman and the boss will be grateful to know that he was in such great hands. As I’m sure you can tell by our early arrival, they’re eagerly awaiting him back at the lab.”

Kirby nodded, blushing lightly. “Of course, my apologies. It’s just not every day you see a creature such as this – I’m sure that you understand. Our team has been buzzing since we discovered him out in the bay.”

“I’m sure,” Anton nodded again, though his half-lidded eyes betrayed a genuine lack of interest. Across the room, the turtle let out a shuddering breath. “Speaking of which, I assume that you recorded the coordinates where he was located?”

“Yes, of course.” The redheaded scientist turned a page on his clipboard and tapped it in affirmation. “All of our findings and details about the retrieval were transmitted earlier today, so Dr. Stockman should be able to access everything we know.”

“Excellent.” The laboratory assistants turned to each other, speaking in Japanese for a moment while Kirby awkwardly toyed at the edges of his paperwork and cursed his lacking language skills. When they turned back around, the shorter man spoke up in a thick Russian accent.

“Should he not be sedated? The boss said that there could be a risk of violence, and that he didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Yes, well, um,” Kirby glanced back down at his notes nervously. “We’ve attempted to keep him sedated throughout the day by administering doses of sevoflurane, but his body has been burning through the medication at an unprecedented rate. Until more is known about his biology, I’m extremely hesitant to consider administering such heavy doses – they could have adverse effects on liver function, cause neurotoxicity –”

“Relax, Dr. O’Neil,” Anton interrupted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “The good doctor sent us with a back up, just in case we ran into any issues. Care to illustrate, Ivan?”

Ivan grunted as he reached into his uniform pocket and withdrew a small, circular device that made Kirby gasp.

“Wait – is that a shock collar? I – well, I really don’t think that’s a good idea -”

“It is… similar,” Ivan interjected. He was more hesitant as he spoke, taking several seconds to weigh his words before speaking them. With careful hands, he lifted a latch on the side of the collar and pressed to adjust its size. Once he seemed satisfied that the circumference was about as big around as the turtle’s neck, the man reached back into his pocket and retrieved a small egg-shaped remote, then simultaneously pressed a button on each piece. Several high-pitched beeps echoed through the room, followed by a low buzzing sound. “The boss had Dr. Stockman create this in order to induce temporary paralysis on larger creatures. As long as the device is activated, the wearer will remain conscious, but unable to move. It makes transportation much easier, as well as helps with certain studies. I shall show you.”

The two lab assistants stepped towards the cage in unison, eliciting another bark of fear from the turtle, and pulled open the door. The creature yelped as the men closed in, throwing out his arms in protest and letting out a warning snarl that sent chills down Kirby’s spine. Before he had a chance to advise them to retreat, both men stepped into the cage and then leapt back, Ivan shaking his hand and cursing in Japanese. “You little monster – he bit me!”

Anton surged forward, using one leg to brace himself and the other to deliver a swift kick to the center of the turtle’s plastron. The creature gasped, falling heavily back onto his carapace and stirring up a cloud of sand as Anton continued to firmly press into his chest. The turtle snarled in frustration, arms desperately alternating between tearing at the thick fabric of Anton’s pants and trying to keep Ivan’s reaching arms at bay. “Come on now, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Gentlemen –!”

Before the turtle could do any serious damage, Ivan lunged forward and snapped the collar around their prey’s neck. The turtle let out a panicked yelp and bit down again, this time sinking gapped teeth into the nearest hand and locking his jaw.

“Yeaugh!” the Russian man bellowed and shook the injured arm in pain, causing the turtle’s head to whip violently back and forth but refusing to release his hold. “Anton – get it off of me!”

“Give me that –” the black man lunged forward and snatched the remote from his partner’s flailing hands. With one push of a button, the turtle suddenly went slack and dropped limply to the ground beneath them. His eyes remained wide open, darting around in confusion.

“Stupid beast,” Ivan growled and kicked at the turtle’s side, eliciting a yelp but nothing else. His hand was already oozing blood, which steadily dripped down onto the turtle’s motionless form. “I’ll make sure that they don’t give you anesthesia, just for that. Or maybe I can just take care of you myself on the way over – how do you like the taste of lead?”

“I doubt he has any idea what you’re saying,” Anton rolled his eyes, then turned to Kirby. “Where’s the loading cart that you brought him in with?”

“Now wait – hold on just one second,” the scientist shook his head, brows furrowed as took a step towards the men. “This is all wrong – I understand that you gentlemen have a job to do and I’m sure you’re lovely people, but as a biologist it is my responsibility to ensure that each and every creature we work with is treated with the utmost dignity and respect. As such, I can’t just let the two of you waltz in here and –”

Kirby suddenly felt something press against his chest and stopped short, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I don’t think you understand, Old Man,” Anton pressed the barrel of his gun forcefully into Kirby’s chest and growled. “Our boss wants this creature more than life itself and has already paid you more than you are worth for it, so we will continue to do with it exactly as we please. Now,” he jerked his head and Ivan roughly grabbed the paralyzed creature under its arms. “Are you going to help us get it into the van, or what?”

Next Chapter!

#rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #nickelodeon #savannah drabbles #sea turtles au

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theluckyyyoneee · 5 years ago

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The Rainy Season

wrote this on a rainy night and am really missing my baby so

when you’re terrified of thunderstorms and your roommate suggests cuddles for comfort

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6+k

not my gif^

Another crack of lightning followed by horrendously loud sounds of thunder erupted in the sky, the pouring rain viciously hitting your window doing nothing to ease your poor, shivering self currently hiding underneath the covers.

You hated when it rained, especially thunderstorms.

You figured you must have drowned in your past or something that would somehow explain your intense hatred for the harsh pellets of water droplets hitting your window with enough force you feared it might break the thick glass.

It filled you with such helplessness that even you didn't understand, so it wasn't a surprise when your roommate was also confused by your irrational fear.

"Wow, I didn't know it was this bad." Kyungsoo's deep voice spoke from the direction of your bedroom door you remembered closing before going to bed.

Your distress momentarily forgotten thanks to the unexpected visitor, you sat up quickly and unwrapped yourself from your little makeshift blanket burrito to look at your said roommate who was already dressed in his nightwear, his wide eyes gazing at you with sympathy.

"I didn't know you were home," your voice was soft and pathetic even to you and you couldn't help the tremor that passed through you as an especially loud crack of thunder sounded. You tried to discreetly fix your tangled mess of hair from rolling around in bed.

"Are you going to be okay? It doesn't seem like the storm is going to be letting up anytime soon…" he ignored your statement and looked even more concerned than before.

Wrapping yourself a bit tighter in your loosened blanket you made an unconvincing hum signaling that you would be fine, when you both knew it was an obvious lie.

Kyungsoo continued to stand there awkwardly for a few more moments before slowly running hand through his short hair as he slowly got out, "Did you want to, maybe, sleep with me tonight?"

Heart hammering in your chest that you were sure wasn't completely because of the terrifying storm, you let his words sink in, hearing him rush to say panicked, "No funny business, I swear. I meant literally to sleep. I just remembered you saying something about how you hate being alone during thunderstorms, and you have work tomorrow…"

Glancing at him, you accepted his words. That much was true and you trusted him to know he would never do anything to hurt you-a major why you two became roommates in the first place.

The only thing you were worried about was if it would become too awkward, too weird, in the aftermath.

The two of you were awfully close, but there wasn't much physical contact between the two of you, each of you preferring your personal space, something the two of you had in common.

But as another strike of lightning and the sound of the rain hitting your window grew louder and harsher, you found yourself nodding vigorously at him as you clutched your pillow tight to your chest, your earlier worries forgotten to the bigger fear of being left alone with this damned storm.

There was awkward silence following your accepting his offer until he asked, "Uh, I'll just go grab my pillow and blanket and then I'll be right back." With that, he sped to his room the fastest you've ever seen and you scooted your pillow closer to the wall to make room for him, nerves forming doubt about sharing a bed with each other.

But then he was back, tentatively entering your bedroom as a flash of lightning lit your room and you realized that you really did not want to be alone right now.

The two of you weren't touching, both under your own set on blankets and you couldn't help the whimper that came out of your mouth as the thunder shook the whole building, body caving in on itself until you were in a little ball.

You felt movement on the bed next to you and some rustling of the blankets and you felt warm, strong hands gently pulling you from your position until you were pressed against him in an embrace, tucking your head under his chin with one of his hands running softly through your hair and the other draped over your shoulders, further encasing you in his warmth, doing a much better job than any blanket could ever do.

It was a bit uncomfortable at first, the two of you stiff as could be with the close proximity, and you could hear his own heart racing under his shirt, but the warmth and silent company was comforting you and you found yourself relaxing further in his embrace, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with sleep as time passed.

Tensing all over again as another sound of thunder sounded, Kyungsoo tightened his hold on you, his hand that was just lying idly began rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispers of you’re fine leaving his mouth.

His heart is really racing, you couldn't help thinking to yourself, your currently position making it so your ear was pressed against his chest.

Maybe he was scared of thunderstorms, too…

With that thought in mind, you shimmied even closer and brought your arm around his midsection, softly gripping the fabric of his loose shirt, hoping to comfort him as well.

His own body tensed like yours did just moments ago, hearing the thump thump thump of his heart, but soon relaxed and brought you even closer to him once more and began to hum ever so softly, fixing the blankets around your shoulders to make sure you were comfortable.

With his hums to focus on rather than the sounds happening outside, you couldn't help the small smile that refused to leave your lips as you slowly found yourself falling into unconsciousness.

After that, it just... kind of became a routine.

At first, you thought it was just going to be a one time thing, but when another thunderstorm fell upon the city, you felt more alone than usual and had a near heart attack at the knock that came to your door.

And there was Kyungsoo with his pillow and blanket in his arms, an adorable yet seemingly shy smile on his face. “Do you mind?”

You didn’t mind at all.

He would hold you close like the first night, switching between humming to telling you about his day. To which soon turned into a time in the day where the two of you talked about anything that came to your minds.

And soon he stopped bringing his own blanket, the two of you deciding that your blanket would be big enough for the both of you, which made your cuddling a bit more intimate. There was no blanket separating your bodies, and you were able to snuggle more comfortably into the crook his neck, feeling him squirm a bit when your breath hit the sensitive skin.

And he slowly became more affectionate towards you. When you were on the couch, he would usually leave a whole cushion in between you but now, he would plop himself right next to you, your shoulders and thighs almost touching with how close he was to you.

You felt his eyes on you a lot more often now, looking up from your book to roam your eyes around the room to find his eyes already situated on your form, heat creeping up on your face as he would blink rapidly and clear his throat, eyes suddenly on anything and everything but you.

You two watched television until you could barely keep your eyes open, slowly dragging yourself off your comfortable position on the couch before you actually fell asleep to tiredly stretch your limbs. “Okay, I’m going to go to sleep now.” You yawned, waving lazily at his own sleepy figure on the couch.

The sky was clear without a cloud in sight, something that made you sigh in relief that you would get a good night’s sleep, fixing your blanket and went to turn out the lights when a half asleep Kyungsoo sauntered in and threw himself down on your bed, tugging the covers out from underneath him to settle them over him.

“Um...” you got out, a little confused at his sudden appearance in your bed, but also wanting nothing more than to jump in bed with him and cuddle him forever. You wouldn’t admit it, but when he wasn’t there to hold you, it took you forever to fall asleep.

“What if it starts to rain sometime in the night,” he mumbled, holding out a hand, looking so squishy and so inviting that you couldn’t help but laugh a little and join him after you turned the lights off.

He immediately pulled you to him, his arm draped over your shoulders, his fingers gently fixing your hair that had fallen in your face. “Y/N,” he softly called your name, your heart racing with how your name sounded leaving his mouth with such gentleness.

Already under sleep’s spell, you grunted a response and snuggled deeper, breathing in his calming smell of his detergent.

“Is it okay if I sleep here even if it isn’t raining?”

That woke you up a bit and you stiffened at his words, hearing the thump thump thump of his racing heart, inhaling a slightly shaky breath as he continued with your silence.

“And is it okay if I... take you on a date tomorrow?”

You choked out a tired laugh as you gripped him tighter as you nodded against his chest.

The tension eased out of both of your bodies as he tightened his hold on you, tilting his head down a bit to land a kiss on your forehead, his heart shaped lips as warm and as soft as you imagined they would be.

You guess the rainy season wasn’t as bad as you thought.

#exo #exo au #exo fic #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #exo do kyungsoo #exo drabble #exo do #do kyungsoo #kyungsoo #exo kyungsoo #exo scenarios

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maybeishouldwritesomething · 5 years ago

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Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley Word Count: 1787 Warnings: Nightmares, vague mentions of PTSD, other than that, this is super soft, my dudes.

Hell wasn’t at all how Crowley had imagined it to be. It was dark and dirty, with a lingering smell of ash and something even more unpleasant underneath. He’d expected pits of fire, what he’d found instead was a dingy basement with no windows and a lot of cramped, miserable people.

So he did what he had to do. He worked hard, made connections, anything to gain trust and prove that he’d be of more use on Earth. Anything to get out of there as quickly as possible. He knew he’d never be able to redeem himself in Her eyes, never be able to go home. This was his home now. But if he could just get on the right side of the Hellish powers that be, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

He felt cold without his wings.

He still didn’t understand how it had happened. He hadn’t done anything wrong, at least, not really. He just couldn’t keep taking orders without question anymore, not when some of those orders were something more akin to Hell’s standards than Heaven’s.

“I don’t understand why She spent all that time creating them just to test them to destruction,” he had said one day to Gabriel.

He knew that he should never have opened his mouth about this, least of all to Gabriel, but he couldn’t hold his tongue on the subject any longer. The archangel was fond of bragging on about how things were moving along on Earth so quickly, as if he had much, if anything, to do with it, and everything he said just got further and further under Crowley’s skin. He was a smug, self-righteous bastard, and it took every ounce of Crowley’s strength not to say as much right to his face.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel had replied.

Crowley gestured vaguely. “Well, the tree. She gave them curiosity, of course they’re gonna go for it.”

“They wouldn’t,” Gabriel said, and he sounded so self-assured that Crowley felt his fist instinctively clench.

“Oh, yeah? Just watch. Sooner or later, that curiosity’s gonna get the better of them. And then what? What point does that prove? That they weren’t loyal enough? They didn’t believe hard enough? But they were made that way.”

Gabriel tilted his head, looking down the length of his nose at Crowley. Something he was very fond of doing.

“I’d be careful if I were you. The walls have ears, you know.”

Crowley was letting his temper get the better of him, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m right, and you know I’m right,” he insisted. “They’re barely more than children. Why do this to them?”

“If it’s what She wills, then so be it,” Gabriel responded, in a tone that clearly said ‘this conversation is over’.

He had to go. It didn’t take long before he began to gather a following. Others were being to question. An uprising would be next, and the hierarchy couldn’t have that. Cut out the sickness and the body has a chance to heal itself. No, Crowley had to go.

Even after all this time, visions of what had happened still came to him without beckoning. Clawed at him in unconsciousness, until he woke up in a cold sweat, alone and terrified.

Hands on him, pushing and pulling, on his wings, fire tearing them apart. He knew he was screaming – he had to be, it was agony - but no sound came from his mouth. And then the whole of Heaven was pulled out from underneath him.

He was falling. No wings to protect him anymore, Heaven far above, and Hell far below.

He’d been cast out. Branded an outsider. A traitor.

No longer wanted or loved by God.

By anyone.

Destined to fester in Hell for Eternity, or until he was torn limb from limb by the bloodthirsty demons that awaited him.

Before he woke up, he’d always see a face. The same one that had been haunting his nightmares since the very Beginning.

Crowley.

A voice. Soft and calm. An oasis from the burning pain.

Crowley!

Crowley woke up with a start. A very distressed-looking Aziraphale was standing in front of him.

“How on Earth did you get here in one piece?” he asked, voice fraught with worry.

Then Crowley realised where he was. He was standing on the doorstep of Aziraphale’s bookshop. It was dark, and the usually bustling street was empty. He’d been sleepwalking.

“’Ziraphale? What…?” Crowley croaked, disorientated.

Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his shoulders, ushering him inside gently.

“Let’s get you inside, dear,” he said, his grip on Crowley just tight enough to guide him.

Crowley went without a fight, still trying to figure out how in Someone’s name he’d even ended up there.

Aziraphale brought him up to his flat, which sat above the shop. It was neat and old-fashioned, much like its tenant. Not that ethereal beings needed to eat or sleep, but Aziraphale had become a creature of comfort during his time on Earth. He liked to have somewhere private to eat and rest, and he had become fond of collecting things over the years. Not just books, but paintings and ornaments, among a great deal of other things. Tat, Crowley affectionately called it, and Aziraphale would just roll his eyes with a smile. He could never understand how Aziraphale never got lost amongst it all.

“There we go,” Aziraphale murmured, helping Crowley onto the sofa.

He carefully draped a blanket over Crowley’s shoulders, and it was only then that Crowley even realised that he was shaking. Aziraphale sat next to him, his face still full of concern. He stayed quiet, waiting for Crowley to find his voice.

“Been having nightmares,” he said eventually, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Nightmares? About what?”

“The Fall,” Crowley said shortly.

Aziraphale shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Ah,” was all he said.

“It never changes, it’s always…Always just before it…”

Crowley swallowed thickly, trying to gather the courage to continue.

“Before it happened. They’re all glaring at me like they don’t even know me anymore. And there’s Gabriel.”

The fact that Gabriel was all but spat didn’t go unnoticed.

“He’s looking at me like he’s been wanting this for years. Probably had, the bastard. I never did fit into his perfect regime. And then…”

Crowley trailed off, voice faltering. Aziraphale gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

“And then?” he prompted softly.

“And then I see you,” Crowley said, turning to look at Aziraphale. “And the way you look at me, it’s…I’ve never seen you look so disgusted. I’m losing my balance, and you’re the one to give me the final push.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s always you.”

Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s face, gently, so as not to frighten him any further.

“Crowley,” he murmured, “Crowley, look at me. Please.”

Crowley forced himself to open his eyes.

“I would never-” He faltered, stopped, then tried to start again. “You know that I would never- You mean far too much to me.”

“And what if that’s what it all comes down to, hm?” Crowley asked. “When they find out about us. About everything we’ve done. You’re gonna have to choose. They’re gonna make you choose.”

Crowley let out a shaky laugh, but there wasn’t a trace of humour in it.

“It’s me or them. Are you really gonna choose to fall?”

“Crowley-”

“The whole of Heaven, gone. Your whole life here, gone. For a demon? You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

“I would.”

Aziraphale’s voice was so small, and so full of fear. He looked at Crowley, tears forming in his eyes.

“I would,” he said again, insistently.

“Aziraphale-”

“No, you listen to me. My entire existence, all I’ve been told is what to do. What to say. Who to heal. Who to let die. And then you came along. You didn’t tell me what to do. You listened. You let me decide things for myself. You cared about what I had to say. I was created as a vessel for Her Will, but you…You let me become my own being.”

Aziraphale blinked, trying to hold back his tears, but it was no good. They were already rolling down his cheeks.

“If, in the end, it comes down to all of Heaven and Earth, and you, I’ll choose you. I’ll always choose you.”

Crowley opened his mouth to try and argue again, and Aziraphale shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Crowley carefully placed his hands over Aziraphale’s, taking them in his own and holding them tightly. As if someone was about to try and take him away at that very moment.

“They’ll cast you out too,” he said quietly.

“Then so be it,” Aziraphale replied resolutely, squeezing Crowley’s hands in turn. “Better to know who I am than to stand idly by in the name of so-called virtue. I can’t be that person anymore. I won’t.”

Every word coming from Aziraphale’s mouth sounded insane, but Crowley knew by the look on his face that he meant every one of them. It was overwhelming. Never, in all of his years of existence, had anyone ever cared so much for him. Not even when he was still an angel. And knowing that Aziraphale would sacrifice everything, just for him…

It so rarely happened, but Crowley found himself at a loss for words. He settled for leaning in to rest his forehead against Aziraphale’s. Judging by the angel’s little sigh, it said more than words ever could.

They stayed like that for a while, the pain and worry in each of them forced aside, if only to allow them a moment of peace. Together.

It was Aziraphale who finally broke the silence.

“Let’s get you to bed, dear,” he said. “I know how accustomed to sleep you are, and I’d hate to break you of your routine. Come on.”

He stood up, holding out a hand to help Crowley to his feet. Crowley didn’t argue, just let himself be led to bed.

“Will you…stay with me?” he asked, and he hated how much he sounded like a lost child.

How much he felt like one.

Aziraphale smiled.

“Of course I will,” he replied softly.

Crowley had barely laid his head on the pillow when Aziraphale was gently pulling him into his arms. He didn’t put up a fight, just let himself be wrapped up in that warmth, let Aziraphale murmur small words of comfort into his ear. As he felt himself begin to drift off, he imagined soft, white wings enveloping them both.

He was safe here, with Aziraphale.

He always had been.

(I sincerely hope the ‘Read More’ is working in the tags now, I’d hate for people to have scroll past all of this. If you did read it, thank you so much, and if you liked it, I’d really appreciate if you could leave a kudos here. Thank you again!)

#please let the read more work #aziraphale/crowley #crowley/aziraphale #aziracrow #otp: ineffable #ineffable husbands #good omens #tanja's fic

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jwminssi · 5 years ago

Text

it’s blue (the feeling i got) | jikook

devils roll the dice angels roll their eyes and park jimin can’t seem to be able to stay away from bad boy jeon jeongguk and his gaze full of stars

inspired by taylor swift’s ‘cruel summer’ | 7K - m - sad ending (read on ao3)

the light shining in through the window is just starting to turn orange when jimin’s phone alerts him of a new message.

lazily sprawled on his bed, he sighs as he reads it on the notification bar, thumb hovering over it as he ponders whether or not to open it - he’s only trying to fool himself, though; those messages never go ignored.

jimin taps on the message icon when the notification disappears and rereads what he had already seen.

come meet me

nothing more, nothing less. but he shouldn’t expect any different than the subtly imperative tone that he’s learned to read even through text, not with the way things work between him and the person on the other side.

jimin sighs and gets up, quickly changing from his crumpled clothes into clear jeans, a tight-fitting t-shirt and a jacket, sitting back down and lacing up his blue allstars that have somehow turned into his signature item; he checks his hair in the mirror, running his fingers through it a few times, and only bothers with some lip balm before he’s carefully opening his bedroom door and looking around the hallway.

the house is quiet, but he still needs to be cautious of any noise he might make - he can’t have his father or brother finding out he’s about to go out with someone they both hate. the garden gate makes a sound of protest as jimin pulls it open and he stands there alert, watching the windows in search for any movement coming from inside; nothing happens, so he continues until he has successfully sneaked out and his shoes are touching the pavement on the street.

the black tesla roadster is parked at the same corner jimin usually finds it when they meet - a block away from where he lives, in front of a house with a pretty garden and a swing for the kids. it looks powerful and imposing, and jimin supposes it’s only a reflection of its owner.

he opens the door and gets inside without thinking too much about it, aware that by now he’s way past the hesitation stage with how many times he’s been sneaking out like this. the rush never dies, his heart always seems to want to jump out of his chest whenever he meets the galaxy eyes of the other boy, but jimin has gotten used to their routine.

“hey.” comes the greeting from the driver’s seat, his voice slightly hoarse from the cigarette that makes him still smell like smoke. another thing that jimin has grown accustomed to, the scent that sometimes lingers on his clothes and his hair after their encounters; he doesn’t hate it, but he would much rather have his soft perfume sticking to his skin instead.

“thought i wasn’t gonna hear from you today.” jimin says and he tries not to sound bitter about the fact that he’s only an option when jeongguk wants a warm body in the quiet of the night. he understands that they’re a dirty secret to be kept from both their families, not willing to risk everything for a summer love - if it can even be called that; jimin is sure it’s more of a summer meaningless fling, at least on the other side of their story.

“you know i always come back for you, babe.” it’s the petname that does it, and jimin scoffs, crossing his arms and looking out the window. they’re still parked and the swings are moving with the wind now, the silhouettes of two kids running around the house making themselves seen behind the curtains. jimin wishes he could be a carefree little boy again. “hey, what happened?”

jimin sighs. he knows he’s being stupid, that he can’t ask more from jeongguk than what he already gets and that he shouldn’t let out his frustrations on him when he’s the only one that can help ease them. but he can’t help it when he wants so much and is not given even half of what his heart aches for.

“nothing, don’t worry about it.” when he faces jeongguk, he already has his entire upper body facing him in the best way he can while sitting down. he’s studying jimin with his typical unreadable expression, the way he does often, like he can figure out his entire life just by looking at him; jeongguk is attentive and he always seems to catch on everything jimin wants to keep hidden.

it’s a blessing at the same time it’s a nightmare.

“i hate this, too. you know that.” jeongguk almost whispers, one hand coming up to caress jimin’s cheek. but jimin doesn’t know, not really, because despite the sincerity in jeongguk’s voice, he still can’t find anything in his eyes, no matter how deeply he searches.

jimin doesn’t answer but he doesn’t pull away from the touch either, choosing to keep their gazes connected until jeongguk’s slips to his mouth. he leans in, placing a soft kiss on the corner of jimin’s lips, lingering there for a second before he pulls back.

and it doesn’t matter that they’ve been doing this for almost three months now, jimin’s heart still skips a beat whenever jeongguk comes close like this. there are still butterflies in his stomach when they touch and goosebumps on his skin when they kiss, and jimin hates it. but he hates even more the fact that he can’t hate it enough to put a stop to it.

“have i ever told you that you’re beautiful?” jeongguk asks, eyes wandering all over jimin’s face, pleased when a light blush heats up his cheeks, the type of unconscious reaction jimin can’t control.

“only about a thousand times.”

“a thousand and one, then.” jeongguk says, their lips brushing with each word pronounced. “you’re beautiful, park jimin.”

and jimin is weak because he can’t stop himself from melting at the words and against jeongguk’s lips moving over his. they kiss slowly, like they have all the time in the world and there isn’t a clock ticking above their heads ready to scream that their time is up. jeongguk’s tongue is skilled as it traces the roof of his mouth and jimin shivers, sighing into the kiss and forgetting all about how he was supposed to be mad at himself for letting this go so far.

when jeongguk pulls away, his eyes are radiating their usual shine, hundreds of stars living in them and making him so alluring. jimin knows they’re the ones to blame for his fall.

”where are we going?” jimin asks after jeongguk pecks his lips one last time and turns the engine on, the soft purr of it sounding almost like home to him by now.

”to watch the sunset.”

that’s the last thing jeongguk says for the entire ride, though one of his hands rest on the inside of jimin’s thigh until they reach their destination. jimin would think he’s claiming him, but there’s no one to see it and the warmth of the touch is only physical, just like their relationship.

but jimin knew from the start jeongguk was a bad idea.

it was his first day back to his hometown after almost five years of living in another country and he was being dragged out late at night by one of his childhood friends who managed to keep in touch.

(jimin didn’t really want to go, but no one has a choice when it’s kim taehyung calling the shots.)

they drove for thirty minutes to a more secluded part of the city that made jimin question if he could still trust taehyung or if he was taking him to a murder site. he frowned when cheers and music could he heard even though he was sure they weren’t there yet but his friend refused to clear up any of his doubts.

jimin was sure he was in a movie scene when taehyung finally stopped his car beside all the other expensive-looking vehicles that were parked around the road. the place wasn’t crowded but there were definitely enough people to make it loud, all gathered into small groups and drinking, smoking and celebrating whatever occasion this was. ahead of them, away from the other cars and people, jimin spotted two shiny cars, one black and one red, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized he knew who the second one belonged to.

you didn’t tell me my brother was going to be here!, he said to taehyung, close to panicking at running into jiwoo at a place like this.

oh, taehyung frowned, i didn’t know he was racing tonight.

jimin sighed, biting his lip as he looked for jiwoo to show up so he could avoid him. his father would kill both of them if he found out where his sons were and jimin would rather not risk it by ending up getting caught by his brother and causing a scene so- wait, what did taehyung say?

racing?, jimin asks just to be sure he heard it right. taehyung always had a habit of dragging him to the weirdest places.

taehyung grinned that devilish grin of his, the one that always screamed trouble, we’re here to watch a street race, jiminie!

isn’t that illegal?, jimin’s heart stopped. he was going to die and his father would be the one to do it.

but taehyung only laughed at him, so?

what the fuck do you mean, so? and what the fuck is my brother doing here?, jimin tried to keep his voice low so that only taehyung could hear him but it was getting harder the more his nerves got the best of him.

oh my god, you worry too much!, taehyung rolled his eyes, the police turns a blind eye to it because most racers have pretty influential families, so relax. and your brother is here because he’s one of them. he’s pretty good, there’s only one guy he can’t beat.

jimin wasn’t completely convinced that he wouldn’t end up in jail for watching the race so he crossed his arms and frowned. a big explosion of laughter near the two main cars caught his attention and he noticed the owner of the black tesla roadster was now leaning against it as he chatted with who jimin presumed were his friends. he looked a bit familiar, though, so jimin dug up inside his brain until he was struck with the probable answer.

is that..., he trailed off, not wanting to sound stupid in case he was wrong.

the jeon kid, yup, taehyung grins, grew up nicely, huh?

understatement, jimin mutters as he watches him.

jeon jeongguk looked drastically different from what jimin remembered. when he left, he was still awkwardly making his way through puberty at sixteen years of age, a scrawny kid with a haircut chosen by his mother and all the characteristics of an antisocial mess. the jeongguk that jimin saw in front of him was someone entirely: his hair was longer, falling over his eyes in a way that was deliberately messy, one of his arms was covered in tattoos that his t-shirt did nothing to hide, he was taller, broader, and the way he held the cup in his hands made jimin wonder just how strong he had gotten.

jimin closed his mouth when he realized he had been almost drooling over him and watched as his brother approached the group, said something that made jeongguk snort and marched to his car. a whistle was blown and everyone started moving, sitting on the hoods of their cars and gathering with their friends for what's coming next. jimin looked over at taehyung as if asking what he was supposed to do next and found him already seated on top of his own audi, tapping the space next to him so that jimin can join.

by the time the crowd settled down, the two racers already had their engines running, their soft hums filling in the night and mixing with the encouraging cheers of everyone watching. jimin felt his blood pump with adrenaline and he wasn't even the one racing; he had never been the type to take part in anything that led him out of his comfort zone, so it didn't take much for his heart to get a different rush than what he was used to. it was a weird feeling, but he found that he wouldn't mind living it more often.

the race lasted barely fifteen minutes, but jimin was on edge the entire duration of it. taehyung teased him, asking if he wasn't glad he dragged him out, noticing how invested jimin seemed to be into the whole thing. it was as much of a surprise to him as it was to jimin himself, who had never thought he could enjoy something like this so much, especially knowing that it was illegal. the screams increased in volume and jimin perked up, pleased when he saw that jeongguk's car was the one coming in first - he never had the best relationship with his brother, it's not that much of a stretch to say he wasn't rooting for him all along. the crowd went crazy when jeongguk came out to greet them, eyes glistening with something dangerous as he waved at everyone watching, clearly not shocked that he was the first to cross the finish line.

jiwoo's car parked next to his not even a minute later and the racer glared at jeongguk as if the gesture could make him faster or as if he could kill him with just his eyes. jeongguk winked at him, laughing in his amused state when jiwoo cursed at him before turning around and leaving so that jimin hopefully wouldn't see his face again. jeongguk looked radiant, just the right amount of cocky to make him even more attractive and to have him stand out in the middle of the sea of people patting his back for his victory.

taehyung jumped from the hood of his car and grabbed jimin's wrist, pulling him right into the road until they were standing beside jeongguk's car with the boy's attention fully on them. his eyes really did shine like galaxies and jimin found himself awestruck at how mature and absolutely gorgeous he looked now.

tae, hey, jeongguk smiled at them, pushing his hair away from his face with his tattoed fingers. jimin couldn't stop his staring.

i'd congratulate you but it's not even a surprise, taehyung rolled his eyes playfully and jeongguk laughed.

you should have bet on me, the racer said, eyes finally falling over jimin with curiosity, who's your friend?

taehyung snickered, take a closer look, i'm sure you'll remember him.

jeongguk raised an eyebrow at jimin, shamelessly checking him out with the excuse that he was trying to figure out where he remembered him from. jimin felt small under his gaze, but he couldn't for the life of him pull himself away from it, trapped in the intensity of jeongguk's eyes and everything he was made of. the racer came closer then, tilting his head to the side, and jimin saw realization wash over his features before it was replaced by surprise.

no way... jiwoo's little brother?, he smiled, absolutely thrilled that he had someone so close to his biggest rival right in front of him like that, jimin, right? you look... different, he smirked as if he knew something jimin didn't and it sent a shiver down the other boy's spine. he was starting to find out jeongguk was a force of nature to be dealt with.

you're one to talk, jimin answered in the same tone and jeongguk seemed pleased.

does your brother know you're here?, he let his body rest against the hood of his car and crossed his arms. jimin took the time to admire his body and the way his clothes hugged his muscles in all the right places. he wasn't subtle about it and, even though the blush on his cheeks told him to stand down, he kept his chin up when jeongguk noticed.

you're not gonna tell him, are you?

i'm very good at keeping secrets.

jimin was about to find out just how much that statement was true.

jimin comes back from his thoughts when jeongguk stops the car.

looking out the window, he can see they're at their usual spot: a hill by the beach where the horizon is perfectly laid out for them to enjoy and just far enough away from any prying eyes that might ruin their private times together. jimin loves it there, it's a place where he's free to be himself with jeongguk, without the need to hold back on his thoughts, words and actions; jeongguk, too, looks and feels better when they're out on their own like this, away from the pressure of their CEO fathers and just being able to enjoy each other's touches.

the sun is halfway to sharing a kiss with the sea when jimin steps out of the car, the entire sky a bright shade of orange that's about to give place to a hot summer night. he’s been up there enough times to lose count but the view still leaves him breathless the same way it did on the first night he sneaked out with jeongguk.

he hugs his body to try protecting himself from the wind and sits on the hood of jeongguk’s car, caressing the black metal under his fingertips as he asks himself if he really got attached to a car - as if just the owner wasn’t enough. waves crash in the distance and jimin can’t help but to close his eyes and lose himself in the atmosphere, choosing to forget about everything that’s killing him inside at least for the time being.

there’s movement beside him and the car moves a bit so jimin opens his eyes. jeongguk is there, sitting on top of the hood as well, thigh touching jimin’s and body radiating warmth.

”you’re quiet today.” he says, watching the view even though he’s aware jimin is looking at him.

”just thinking.”

jeongguk finally turns to him, eyes so deep and inviting that jimin could compare them to the sea ahead of them if he hadn’t already settled on linking them to the sky above. “don’t think too much.” he mutters, raising an open bottle of wine that jimin didn’t even realize he was holding.

jimin’s answer is a scoff as he takes it, brings it to his lips and takes large sips, not even grimacing at the slight bitterness of the alcohol down his throat. the wine is smooth on his tongue, almost sweet and it’s no surprise that jeongguk knows exactly how he likes it - the same way he knows how jimin likes everything else, how he eats his food, how he buys his clothes, and just the right way to fuck him.

the alcohol hits his empty stomach harshly and jimin gets dizzy for a quick second but ignores it in favor of drinking one more time. jeongguk is watching him closely, studying him in that way he always does, like jimin isn’t already an open book for his eyes to read.

”are you trying to get drunk?” jeongguk asks as he pushes himself away from the car and into jimin’s space, standing in between his open legs while his fingers trace invisible patterns on his knees.

”always.” jimin answers and drinks again before the bottle is taken from him mid-sip, making a drop of wine run down his chin and stain its path. “you have to stop giving me things only to take them away when i start enjoying them.”

he’s not talking about wine anymore but he didn’t mean for the words to come out - maybe he is getting drunk already, despite his often high tolerance; he did spend the day without eating anything only to chug down half a bottle at once, after all. jeongguk sighs as he collects the drop of wine that escaped jimin’s mouth with his thumb and takes it to his own lips. he knows what jimin is saying, he always understands even his most indirect comments; again, a blessing and a nightmare, because jimin can’t even be petty in peace.

”what’s gotten into you today?” jeongguk asks quietly as he inches closer, his hands travelling from jimin’s knees to his thighs where he squeezes lightly before running the tip of his nose over jimin’s neck. “is it because summer is about to end?” he whispers against the sensitive skin and jimin can feel his smile just before he bites down at his pulse point making him whine. “are you going to miss me?”

”are you going to miss me?” jimin shoots the question back at him, holding him close by his jacket.

”obviously.” jeongguk answers without thinking while he kisses jimin's neck. jimin hates how he loves that jeongguk didn't even hesitate before saying it.

”but are you going to miss me?" he asks, pulling away so that he can look into jeongguk's eyes, their noses barely touching. "or just my body?”

”both." jeongguk frowns. "you know that, jimin." he holds jimin's face in his hands and tries to kiss him on the lips but jimin turns away from him. "baby, what’s wrong?” he questions carefully, brushing the hair away from jimin's eyes where the wind messed it up.

jimin sighs heavily and puts some space between them, leaning back on his hands. jeongguk lets his own hands fall back to rest on jimin's thighs. ”nothing, just ignore me. i’m tired and a little tipsy, that’s all.” he tries to smile but he can tell it doesn't work when jeongguk's frown deepens and he pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue, a habit he has when he's not quite convinced of something.

”did your brother say something to you again?” jeongguk guesses, knowing how jiwoo can be with his words and having heard from jimin himself the absurd things the older said to him numerous times. he doesn't despise jiwoo simply because they're rivals on the streets, where he tries to take his number one place every single time, but because their ideals clash and he can't stand people like him. he doesn't blame jimin for moving to the other side of the world to get away from his family, he would do the same if he didn't have someone else to look after.

but jimin doesn't answer. instead he wraps his legs around jeongguk's waist and acomodates him better, though he still keeps the rest of his body at a safe distance. jeongguk looks down to where they're touching, running his hands over the expanse of jimin's legs, always pleased to be in between them, thinking about how he's going to miss him when summer ends and they have to act like none of this ever happened - even though they already kind of do. he doesn't force jimin to say anything, knows that when he's in a mood like this nothing can get him to talk about what's bothering him and that the only way to help him feel better is by pretending everything is fine like he tries so hard to do; jeongguk wishes he didn't feel obligated to act tough all the time.

”do you ever think about running away?” jimin changes the topic of conversation, though jeongguk can tell his mind is still focused on it.

”all the time.” he answers honestly, eyes trained on jimin’s reaction. jeongguk has always been great at reading people, but somehow with jimin it’s even easier; it’s almost like their souls communicate on their own.

”not with me, though.” jimin mutters but he’s not looking at jeongguk anymore. he lifted one of his hands to start tracing patterns over his arms and his gaze is now following the movement; there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice even though he tried not to let it show.

jeongguk sighs and takes the hand from his arm to hold in between his. ”thinking about something and doing it are two completely different things. just because i can’t do it, doesn’t mean i don’t want to.”

”would you?” jimin whispers and it sounds like he’s afraid of the answer. “run away with me?”

jeongguk hums and smiles, eyes sparkling. ”we’d go somewhere no one knows us.” he kisses jimin’s knuckles softly. “where we can be happy together.”

that sounds like a dream to jimin. growing up in a homophobic family, he could never be himself until the day he decided to leave and go study in a foreign country - the biggest reason for him to take such a long time to visit. his brother is the only one who knows about his sexuality - a slip on jimin’s part - and as much as he’s an idiot through and through about it, he never told their parents; to this day, jimin has no idea why. living abroad has helped him break out of the character his family built for him, but it’s still hard for jimin to open up to more intimate and deep relationships, and as much as he never expected to fall so deeply for jeongguk so fast, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to live that love the way he wants to.

but jimin is not the only with a complicated background. jeongguk’s parents - well, his father and stepmother - fall on the same side of the scale as jimin’s family and there’s never an easy day for him, having to bow down to his father’s rules and live under the same roof as the man who threatens to take everything from him if he so much as slips simply because he likes men. and by everything, he doesn’t mean his money, his car or his fancy clothes, but all that jeongguk really cares about: his little sister. ever since their mother died, jeongguk has taken it upon himself to pass to little jisoo everything the woman taught him, knowing that their father couldn’t care less about raising a child the proper way.

she’s the only reason jeongguk doesn’t even ponder on the idea of dropping everything and running away, and jimin is not selfish to the point of asking him to do that because he doesn’t want to deal with a broken heart.

”i’d like that.” jimin whispers once again before throwing his arms around jeongguk’s neck, realizing he’s only wasting precious time acting like this instead of enjoying what they have left.

jimin is completely wrapped around jeongguk now but he doesn't seem to care; in fact, he brings jimin even closer by hugging his waist until he has successfully glued their bodies together. it's something neither will ever get tired of, being close like this and feeding off each other's warmth, pretending that the world is only made up of the two of them even if just for a few hours.

it's jimin who first moves it for a kiss but that doesn't matter when they always meet in the middle. since the first time their lips touched - in the dark corner of a tiny kitchen at a celebratory party after one of jeongguk's races - they've been in perfect sync, bodies matching in rhythm the same way their hearts do; jimin swears no other kiss he ever experienced can make him feel whole like jeongguk's does.

though their lips move slowly against each other, jimin feels like the sea he hears with his eyes closed: agitated, heavy and alive. the emotions inside of him are boiling and threatening to spill over, have become so big and intense that he can barely keep them in secret, and jimin doesn't know what to do with himself when he feels like this, when jeongguk touches him like he's the most precious thing he has ever encountered, something to be cared for, loved and treated with care. all he knows is that he wishes he could live in this moment forever, away from his family and his worries, just trapped in jeongguk's arms.

they kiss for what feels like an eternity, souls mingling together at the same time their tongues slide against each other, lips locking and unlocking with wet noises that make goosebumps rise on jimin's skin. he's whimpering against jeongguk's mouth, fingers making a mess of his hair as he tries to deepen their connection even more, hoping that if he works hard enough, he'll be able to meld their bodies into one.

jeongguk is holding on to him just as tightly, as if he’s scared jimin will disappear if he as much as thinks about letting go. he has gotten progressively more passionate over the months - a voice in jimin’s mind tells him it’s because he’s just as desperate to not let this end as he is - and jimin loves the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by his touch. his mouth travels down to jimin’s neck, licking and biting at his most sensitive spots that he already knows by heart and getting breathy moans to spill from his lips as he does so.

”could stay like this with you forever.” he mutters against jimin’s skin, inhaling his sweet scent and groaning when jimin tightens his legs around him.

the way jeongguk moves his lips against his makes jimin go dizzy with want. he’s thorough and intense in everything he does and kissing is no exception; jeongguk’s tongue explores jimin’s mouth skilfully, wrapping itself around jimin’s before pulling away to give space for his teeth to nip and pull at his bottom lip, transforming it into an ever prettier shade of red.

jeongguk’s hands are restless as they roam over his body, pulling and squeezing in his need to feel him better. he toys with the button on jimin’s jeans before popping it open, allowing him to slip his fingers inside and grab his ass without any layer of clothes in the way. jimin moans loudly against his mouth when their hips meet, friction making their semi-hard cocks twitch, and his own hands that were under jeongguk’s shirt curl to leave faint scratches behind as he grinds against him once more.

jimin loves the way he loses himself in jeongguk when they’re together, like nothing else matters but them.

"shit, is that jiwoo's brother?" the voice cuts through the night and makes jimin jump away from jeongguk like he’s been struck by lightning; he licks his lips as if that can make them less swollen and hurries to button his pants again.

"mind your own business, siwon.” jeongguk’s tone is sharp as a knife and he keeps a protective hand on jimin’s thigh though he’s taken a step away from him.

"oh man, he's gonna love hearing about this.” siwon claps his hands and only then do they realize he’s not alone; jimin can recognize the other boy as one of jiwoo’s close friends, jisung, the one that’s always oddly quiet and up to cause trouble. “hey jimin, what do you think he's going to do when he finds out you're fucking his biggest rival?"

jeongguk takes his hand from jimin’s thigh and turns to the two newcomers completely, brows furrowed and absolute fury in his eyes. jimin’s heart skips a beat in the worst way: he’s seen jeongguk angry before, it has never been pretty.

"gguk...” he calls, holding him by the wrist more as a way to remind jeongguk he’s there, a way to ground him because he knows he can’t actually stop him using force.

"and you, jeon, do you think he's gonna be happy you're keeping jimin as your own personal slut?" siwon and jisung both snicker like they just heart the world’s funniest joke. jimin’s grip on jeongguk tightens.

"don't you fucking dare talk about him like that." jeongguk spits at them, low and dangerous, but siwon doesn’t seem affected by it and comes closer.

"what, did you catch feelings already?” he mocks. “is he that good at sucking cock?” jeongguk looks back at jimin, then, as if apologizing before he pulls himself free while siwon keeps on talking. “i mean, with that mouth i bet he's fucking incre-“

the first punch hits siwon right on the chin, forcing him to close his mouth and effectively shutting him up. he spits his own blood on the ground before charging at jeongguk full force, fists closed and ready to be used.

jimin jumps from the hood of the car and tries to come up with a way to make them stop without getting hurt himself. he’s seen jeongguk fight like this before and it’s obvious that he can handle it - even though jisung has decided to join and he’s at disadvantage now - but he’s not about to let him get beaten up and show up at his house covered in bruises later, not that this is any news to his parents.

as much as they’re fighting unfairly, siwon and jisung are still looking worse than jeongguk, with blood running down their faces until there’s angry red drops staining their clothes and the beginnings of black eyes on both of them. when jisung manages to hold jeongguk down and siwon delivers a knee to his stomach, jimin decides he’s had enough.

his wine bottle is still by the car where jeongguk had left it earlier and he picks it up, feeling the liquid move inside and hating that it’s going to waste like this. there isn’t even a moment of hesitation in jimin before he hits the back of siwon’s head with the bottle hard enough for it to break and for him to fall down.

he takes advantage of siwon’s disoriented state and sits on top of him, holding a piece of the broken bottle to his throat to stop him from moving. “if you ever breathe a word about this to anyone, you better be ready to see me again. and i swear to you, siwon, i won’t be this nice.”

jimin gets up and grabs jeongguk - who was still punching jisung - by the arm, dragging him to his car and leaving the other two there along with the glass and the spilled wine, forever staining their secret place. he’s back to being angry and jeongguk chooses not to say anything, only nodding when jimin tells him to go to the pharmacy near his house.

it’s a bad type of a quiet in the car as they drive further back into the city.

jimin is drumming his fingers against his jeans, frustrated as he relives the past ten minutes inside his head and wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve not being able to be free as himself.

it seems ironic that the person who reminds him of the cage he lives in is the same who makes him feel like he can fly.

with jeongguk, jimin always feels like he’s living in another reality, when they’re alone and happy, doing whatever they want as long as they’re together. but with jeongguk, when they’re parting ways after sneaking out, jimin also feels stupid for falling for a lie that can take him higher than the sky but drops him from that same height and breaks all his hopes.

there’s no winning with jeongguk, and jimin thought he was ready for the fall.

when they stop, jimin risks a look at jeongguk but he refuses to meet his gaze, so he sighs and opens the door, crossing the parking lot to get to the pharmacy’s front door where he rubs at his eyes under the fluorescent lights. he picks up everything he needs to deal with bruises like that and heads over to the counter, where the cashier gives him a hard look, eyeing the things he’s buying and adding them to his messy hair and his wine-stained shirt.

when jimin comes out, jeongguk is waiting for him outside the car, leaning against the hood, and he doesn’t waste time before stopping in front of him and getting to work.

“this has to stop.” jimin finally breaks the silence as he tends for a cut on jeongguk’s cheekbone.

”i can’t just sit and hear people talk shit like that, you know me.” he does his best to stay still through his frustration at hearing jimin’s words and the sting of the antiseptic.

jimin sighs, heart in pieces for what he’s about to say. ”i don’t mean the fights.”

it takes a moment for jeongguk to process what jimin meant but it’s obvious when he does, because he pulls away abruptly, eyes filled with something akin to betrayal.

”you’re talking about us.” he concludes and his voice doesn’t even waver, but remains sharp as ever. jimin swears he feels it cut him.

”summer is almost over anyways.” jimin pulls him back to finish what he’s doing and jeongguk lets him but scoffs, clearly not pleased.

”and you’re just deciding that by yourself?” he raises his voice slightly and it hurts because jimin never had jeongguk angry at him; he’s finding out just how much of a horrible feeling it is.

”you know i’m right, jeongguk.” jimin whispers, doing his best to hold himself together.

jeongguk doesn’t argue but he pushes jimin’s hand away from him harshly before he can deal with all of his bruises and gets back to his car. jimin swallows down the lump in his throat and puts everything back inside the bag to join him, knowing that he won’t leave him there to walk home no matter how pissed off he is.

inside the car, jimin tosses the pharmacy supplies on the back seat in hopes that jeongguk will use them later - even though he’s sure he won’t.

it’s a short ride to jimin’s house but the heavy atmosphere and the deafening silence make it feel like hours. jimin can only look out the window and watch the city go by them, realization dawning on him that these are his last minutes with jeongguk and they’re spending them in bad terms.

“so it’s a goodbye, then.” jeongguk says, turning the car off. he doesn’t turn to look at jimin like he usually does when he drops them off.

“it has to be.” jimin wills the words to come out, not really wanting to utter them.

”no, it doesn’t.” jeongguk finally faces him and he’s frowning again. “not yet.” if jimin didn’t know him, he would say jeongguk is about to start begging.

”look at your face!” jimin hears how broken he sounds in his own voice. he hates it. “i always hated that we had to do things like this but it just got worse. i don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you, jeongguk, not when it puts us in danger.”

"so you're just giving up like that?" and of course jeongguk would throw that on him like this, so used to doing things his way that he doesn’t know how to act when he can’t get them according to his own wishes.

"oh, like you're willing to fight for us?” jimin doesn’t mean to play that card but it’s what he has right now. either way, it works because jeongguk averts his gaze and clenches his jaw. “we never had a chance, jeongguk. we were over before we even started." that last part comes as a whisper, a truth that they always knew was there but never had the courage to say out loud.

there isn’t anything else to be said but jimin still sits there waiting dor an answer, simply because he’s dreading the moment he will step out of that car and ver talk to jeongguk again. his heart beats violently in his chest as if protesting about having to leave a piece of it behind when he leaves.

jeongguk takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. "okay." he says, not like a permission but to show that he accepted their fate, and jimin knows that’s the hardest thing for him to do.

"don't hate me, gguk.” jimin pleads, hoping he can hold back the tears already pooling in his eyes until he’s safely hiding in his bedroom.

jeongguk reaches out to cup jimin’s face, looking broken himself. "i could never." he assures and jimin believes him because he wouldn’t be touching him so tenderly if he did.

their lips meet again and jimin tries his hardest but he still can’t stop the tears that run down his cheeks and turn their last kiss salty.

"i love you." jimin whispers against jeongguk's lips when he pulls back and for the first time in almost three months he manages to catch him off guard, his galaxy eyes sparkling with a vulnerability he had never seen before. "ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?" and then he's out of the car, walking home without looking back.

jimin doesn't hear from jeongguk during the last week of summer; taehyung stops mentioning him and jimin doesn't attend any of his races scheduled for that period. when jiwoo is driving him to the airport, though, jimin spots the black tesla roadster in the same corner it was always parked waiting for him.

#jikook #kookmin #jikook fic #jikook angst #kookmin fic #jimin #jungkook #nat writes

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jarryprompts · 6 years ago

Text

Filled Jarry Prompt :)

Prompt: “Harry waiting for James under the Christmas tree wearing nothing but a big red bow please…!” Author’s note: I wasn’t sure whether or not Nonny intended their prompt as a reunion fic so I kind of put my own spin on things. I hope that’s okay :)… This was also only supposed to be a 1000 word (or below) oneshot but I kind of got carried away… oops. This fic features a fair amount of Romeo and seeing as I started writing this before the most recent episodes exploring his and James’s relationship aired, certain details may not be perfectly in line with particular events on the show (although I did attempt to tweak most of them to the best of my ability).

Words: 10k

Rated: M

Trigger warnings: Nothing overly graphic but a few references to James’s past regarding Mac’s abuse and Donna-Marie.

Mod’s notes: massive thanks to @jarryxox for submitting!!

xxx

Feeling overwhelmed by the surrounding sea of emptiness that marked the approaching night, James stumbled his way desolately through the ill-lighted village with only the distant flickering of Christmas lights to accompany him on his path back home. He wasn’t sure whether it was to do with the day’s overhanging sense of unity and spirit and the way in which this conflicted with his own foul mood but today, walking alone with the image of his father sat across the table from his son at Christmas dinner etched mockingly in the back of his mind, well he felt especially defeated. It seemed that both the misery and alcohol had done a good job of numbing his senses. It’s not that James couldn’t smell the trimmings and potatoes laced in goose fat or hear the distant muffled blare of Christmas music, he just wasn’t fully aware of it. Pulling the freshly-purchased bottle of red wine that he’d been cradling protectively underneath his jacket in further, he noted shamefully how on days such as these, when there was little else to preoccupy his mind, the day would always end for him in exactly the same way in which it had started. How in both the early hours of the morning and the late hours of the night, he’d make a brief trip to Price Slice to purchase another bottle of wine, face always burrowed deeply into his scarf in an attempt to cloak his misery from the many prying faces that often pervaded the streets of Chester. He wasn’t quite sure at which point in his life he’d came to care so much about what the local ex-druggy, Ken Doll or a McQueen thought about him but shielding his face in his scarf’s soft blanket of warmth and security had become common practice for him in recent weeks.

And it always had to be the same scarf too. He convinced himself that the simple reasoning behind this was because it was the warmest, most expensive scarf that he owned but of course this was not the entire truth. This particular scarf was very special to him for two good additional reasons. Not only had it been personally picked out for him by his beloved grandmother Tabby, but he’d lent this particular scarf to Harry on more than one occasion. Often they’d even found themselves having playful disputes regarding the true identity of its colour. “It’s white.” “It’s grey. “I can assure you, as both its purchaser and proud flaunter for ten or so plus years, the scarf is white.” “You must have just gotten it grubby then.”

Sometimes on his loneliest days, he’d pull the scarf in tighter, close his eyes and allow himself to picture himself enveloped in Harry’s embrace. Of course cashmere could never quite replace the tenderness and delicacy of a human touch and Harry’s was more than just any touch. It was soft, deft, solacing, friendly, understanding, warm… but two glasses in and it was almost easy to pretend; almost. James often tried fooling himself that it was never really about the alcohol, never because he really wanted nor needed it. That it was merely an excuse for him to leave his flat on unbearable days such as today, a brief pause in the routine of solitary and sadness that he had allowed himself to slip into. If nothing else, it offered him the opportunity for a chance encounter with Romeo or his mother (even though admittedly they hadn’t exactly been on the best of speaking terms as of late), without having to go to the grand gesture of knocking on doors. But it wasn’t just that. Besides work and his slowly but surely blossoming relationship with his son, his customary rounds to the local mini-market followed by a thorough search down every turning and alley for a particular face, Harry’s face, felt like his only current motivation in life. Sometimes, in his dreams he’d find Harry dozing away in the folly, his face its same perfect, gentle sculpture, sleepy and content, oblivious to the anxiety and disturbance that he’d caused to James and his life. On other nights he’d have a slight variation of this very same dream and find Harry waiting for him outside his flat still dressed in his same sodden wedding clothes, face and body laced with bruises but somehow still smiling that same sprightly, infectious smile. Unfortunately however, when it came to real life, he never once did strike lucky. Some days he hated Harry for doing this to him. Others he simply hated himself for being so grossly lovesick and allowing himself to be demeaned in such a way. His surroundings being so dark and him being so intoxicated, James took extra care to make sure to keep a sharp eye out for any potential obstructions littering his path (which turned out to be everything in his drunken state; even his own feet). Ten steps in however and this particular train of thought was forgotten, abandoned by the realisation that he’d if not both rather unconsciously and selfishly taken the short route back home rather than his usual thorough loop around the village in search for Harry. Turning back and making his way over towards the folly, he could hear the distant rowdiness of a pair of mutual drunks, singing their own special rendition of Jingle Bells. Nice to hear something human, James thought, although the comforting sensation of Harry’s light breathing against his chest was the only sound that truly mattered to him right now. Finding nothing but a discarded newspaper on one of the benches although reassured nonetheless to find no latest headline of “young rent boy found dead in a ditch”, James was left disheartened to find that his unsteady slog towards the folly had been in vain. The passing image of Harry lying somewhere dead, of the lifelessness in his blue eyes caused a figmental headache to develop in the side of his head, so he allowed himself a moment to try and encourage the image away with a massaging hand. Once again however, his efforts proved futile. Willing to adopt any passing thought in order to drive away the dreadful images playing repeatedly in his mind’s eye, James tried inviting a different stream of inessential thought but his efforts somehow always ended up leading him straight back to Harry. Scratching frustratedly at his beard with his free hand, he tried a different approach of focusing his attention on a different kind of pain, leaving him to consider which one hurt him more: his moments spent wandering drunkenly alone in an empty street or drinking alone in an empty flat. At least, he told himself, when things still moved outside life went on. At least that way when he lay passed out on the sofa by half-eight every evening after his third or so bottle, he could trick his brain into believing that, even if only by the off chance, one of the many set of footsteps that he heard trudging by his flat at night belonged to Harry. He tried playing a similar enough game now, straining his ears that had been furiously tinged red by the cold as they scanned briefly towards the direction of each surrounding household. Each one of them an invisible speck in the universe. The Lomax’s. The McQueen’s. The Hutchinson’s. The Hutchinsons. He was sure that if he dared to listen closely enough, he would hear them now, all so harmoniously ignorant, continuing on with their lives without Harry with such careless ease. He tried distinguishing between each voice, tried pairing each one with a face but it was never the face he wanted to see; never Harry’s. In fact, it didn’t take much to make him think of Harry. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling but it was like the constant dull panging of a toothache. If only, James thought, sleep could alleviate this particular kind of pain. He needed a distraction from it. He did consider, perhaps for the fraction of a millisecond the possibility of paying a quick visit to his son over at 4 Oakdale Drive, his father’s current place of residence. That would certainly help to divert his thoughts away from Harry. His father had after all made it his life’s work to make every waking moment of James’s life a misery ever since the moment he’d been born. It would be difficult for him having to face them all at once: Mac, his mother, Alfie, Donne-Marie… but he knew that it would mean a lot to Romeo and at least that way he could show him that he was trying, really was trying… Deep down however, a part of him knew that this was a terrible idea and he wasn’t entirely confident that in his current drunken state he could resist the urge to turf his father’s smug, complacent ass straight out of his chair. Certainly not upon witnessing him attempting to poison his son against him whilst all the while, everyone else around him remained fooled by his newly reformed, frail old man act. Nor did he wish to contribute towards any kind of happy family pretence that they might have had going. Besides… he didn’t wish to give the wrong impression that he had only dared to show his face there for the company. It wasn’t exactly a particular desire of his to look that overtly desperate in front of an audience…

So instead, James resorted to doing what he had always done on his darkest days in youth, scanning over and counting the cracks in the pavement, tiptoeing between them as if they were snare traps as he made his way back home from school as a frightened, bitter teenage boy. He realised how stupid this might have sounded to any outside party but it gave him a distraction from the truth. Took his mind away from counting down the steps until he made it back home to that monster; to his father and whatever beating he might have had planned out next for him. But at least this way, as he invested himself in scrutinizing the concrete for any of its flaws, he could fool himself into believing that it wasn’t really his life, that it was the path to somebody else’s home. Mimicking those same youthful steps now, tracing the ground with those same vulnerable eyes, he even allowed himself to echo one same juvenile thought. It was a silent plea mostly, that if he had to have this life, if Mac had to be his father, if he couldn’t have Harry then he prayed that the sound of his footsteps mattered to at least one person. In the distance there was this disruptive clompling sound as a figure started to approach about to cross paths with him. So heavily absorbed however, in dodging cracks and the sound of his own drunken steps, James barely noticed it. It was only the blunt impact of human flesh, multiple shopping bags and the consequent driving of the sheltering wine bottle into his ribs that tore him away from his current trance and James’s head was left feeling all the more woozy from the sudden startlement.

“Harr-” “Oi! Watch where you’re going!” chided a scornful voice. Still caught off guard from the collision and needing a moment for his eyes to readjust, James opted not to rise to this particular scolding, instead continuing to hold his gaze towards the floor whilst he worked on recovering both his breath and balance. Then, shaking his head in a further attempt to will the fuzziness away, he tried to make out the sight of the figure stood before him. Heels, he could see a pair of heels. Hideous ones at that if you asked him. And a rather odd choice of shoes for this kind of weather, he added disapprovingly as an internal afterthought.

Once he felt fully braced enough to come face to face with the irked figure that remained towering over him, James allowed his eyes to disengage from the inadequately clothed feet and sweep upwards to find a much less than amused McQueen scowling fiercely back at him. “Ughh, Nightingale! Trust it to be you!” The figure fired a disapproving glance at James before thrusting her arms forward in as best an attempt as she could manage at shoving him, despite the number of bags and gifts she was carrying, causing him to re-lose hold of his footing.

Unprepared for this second blow to the ribs, James grabbed instinctively onto his assailant’s sleeve in an attempt to steady himself. “Ahh, Mercedes,” James unthreatened, began smugly. “So there is life on Mars after all. Glad to see we’re not all that far drunk on eggnog, false jollity and uncharacteristical kindness to the extent of being delusional.” “And there were me thinking that people of your kind spent the day with their faces buried up to their neck in paperwork rather than Christmas dinner.” "Actually,” James said, adopting an informative tone “that’s precisely what I’m doing.” “Oh, so who’s that for then?” Mercedes enquired nosily, eyeballing the bottle of wine that was now swaying loosely from James’s grasp. “That really is none of your business,” James responded bluntly, attempting to brush his way past her. “Go on!” Mercedes encouraged, further blocking James’s exit. “I won’t tell anyone. Who’s the lucky fella?” James stood staring menacingly at her for a while before relenting when it soon became clear that she had no intention of moving. “Okay, fine. It’s for me, if you must know. Do you know, it’s not until you walk the vacant streets of Chester alone on a dark December night that you realise how insignificant you really are in the grand scheme of things.“

“Bit of a morbid take on life that, don’t you think love?” “Maybe,” James replied unleashing a sad, ironic smile.“Only slightly.“ “Well if that’s what a mountain of paperwork does to your head, I sure am glad I didn’t choose to become a lawyer.” "Dad! There you are!” a voice intruded in an overly spirited tone. “And suddenly they all come at once,” James observed, hoping that the enthusiasm carried in his voice would help to conceal the uneasiness he felt at his son’s sudden appearance. In fact, rather ashamedly in that moment, he tried to picture Harry. Just the thought of Harry helped to calm his nerves. Not that he blamed Romeo for any of it but he longed for a day where he could look at his son without seeing her; Donna-Marie and that dreadful night. “Dad?!“ Mercedes was scanning Romeo’s face intently with an amused sparkle in her eyes before allowing her glance to slide back to James as if assessing both of their faces for any kind of resemblance. “You kept that one quiet. Full of surprises you are!” She exclaimed now satisfied, hitting James playfully several times on the upper arm.“Anyway, I’ll leave you boys to it. Besides, I’d best be getting off anyway. Mum’s just about to dish up the turkey kebabs!” James simply nodded in acknowledgement at her goodbye, before drifting his foggy gaze back to Romeo. “Romeo… Look, I know what I said about the possibility of the two of us getting to spend some more time together but now really isn’t a good time.” “And I suppose that’s your third bottle so far today is it?” he replied critically, noticing James’s unsteady stance and gesturing towards the wine bottle. “Well don’t look so judgemental. It’s to accompany me and my ever-growing bundle of paperwork if you must know. You know, James Nightingale, hot shot lawyer. It’s kind of part of the job I’m afraid.“ “Paperwork? But it’s Christmas…” “Please, don’t remind me. And tell me, what exactly am I supposed to be doing anyway? Sing carols? Gorge myself on overcooked turkey? Sit around playing Pie Face with my homophobic dad and my treachorous excuse of a mother? That’s the kind of thing normal people do at this time of year isn’t it?” James was playfully spacing his words as if to add impact to his careless derision. Romeo sensing that his father’s confidence was somewhat forced, allowed his voice to soften. “Well, surely that’s got to be better than—“ James cut him off abruptly. “Please, spare me th—“ “And I thought Christmas day without a father was bad enough growing up.”

“Oh come on, what exactly is that supposed to mean?!” “You really can’t see it can you? All of this, you’re just punishing yourself. You’ve got months of pent up hatred and anger kindling inside of you. You sit around alone in your flat, drowning yourself in drink, putting on a brave face, pretending that you don’t care and then there’s Harry.” “Do not mention his name!” James snapped, defensively taking a step back from Romeo and crossing his arms protectively across his chest. Romeo far from discouraged by this took another step forward back towards his father, securing a hand around one of his noticeably trembling wrists as a gesture of comfort before continuing on "You sit there telling yourself that you’re over him, yet you’re still blaming yourself. And the only person that’s suffering for it is you.” “That’s it, end of conversation!” Face both reddened from the cold and flushed from the outburst, James snatched his arm coldly away from Romeo’s grasp before turning to walk away. “That’s it walk away from me. I’m not the one that’s alone on Christmas day!” “I can’t believe I’m hearing this…” James began incredulously, before turning back to face Romeo. “Who would ever have thought that a woman with standards as low as…” he paused for a moment considering what would be a fitting enough jibe “Ste Hay’s IQ could raise a child to become such a critic!” “Hey, look back off! I’m just trying to help! I know you’ve both got your differences but I’d appreciate you not talking about my mum like that. I didn’t have to come here you know.“ “And why did you come here exactly?” James demanded, inching forward slightly. “Because if it’s presents you’re after, I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed. Besides what is it that kids your age are even into these days anyway apart from shoes and cheap-smelling aftershave? Love Island? Those ughhh… those spinny things.” “What, fidget spinners? No, they went out of trend ages ago.“ “Ahhh… the ever-changing, vacillating nature of the youth. Anyway, I’ve got to sort out my taxes and you’ve got a family to get back to. Say hi, to Juliet for me.” “Da- James wait!.” Romeo called out desperately after him as James made to turn away. “Surely you could make an exception.” James stopped in his tracks, scoffing briefly before turning back to face Romeo. “What is it with kids these days and never quite being able to get the point?” Romeo watched uneasily as James began fiddling with the contents of his right coat pocket. Then, pulling out a series of fifty pound notes and attempting to force a handful into Romeo’s clenched grasp he added “Look, take this and I will make it up to you at a later stage, okay? “What, no! You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want your money! I heard from Gran how you turned down her offer to come and join us all for lunch today.” "Oh that,” began James, pausing to give a harsh, derisive laugh. “How was it anyway, your nice little family get together? Cosy and snug, was it?” “Yeah, it was nice. Look, I didn’t realise things were really that bad between you two; between you and granddad.” Unable to bring himself to face Romeo whilst discussing Mac, James refocused his attention back to the floor, carelessly unsettling the frost that had began bonding itself to the pavement. “Yes, well… that is a conversation for another day.“ “You know the day’s not quite over yet. You could still come over. Play some games with us.” “I’m already playing a game my dear boy. It’s called harbouring a broken heart and trying to function on less than three hours of sleep. Besides I’d rather die—” “Look, would you please just stop with the sarcastic remarks. Gran said that you were likely going to end up spending the day alone and I don’t know… I thought that maybe you could do with some company but if you’d rather live up to the whole lonely, empty future prophecy that you appear to have claimed for yourself then be my guest!” “Romeo, wait!” James called after him, gesturing towards the direction of his flat. “I’d like that. Some company I mean.” Romeo simply nodded and smiled as James detected a suspicious, furtive look in his eyes before turning back as if to walk in the opposite direction to the one that James had pointed out. “Wait, where are you going? The flat’s this way.” “Price Slice to get some beer.” “Uhh, I think champagne should suffice nicely enough for you young man,” James said, leading Romeo away by the sleeve. xxx

Romeo flinched as James slammed his fist weakly into his front door, eyes narrowed in frustration at his continued futile attempts to cram a little silver key into the lock. “For crying out loud!” James groused before clumsily dropping the metallic cluster into a teeny arch shaped crevice on the cracked floor. “It’s okay”, Romeo said calmly, ducking gallantly to the ground to retrieve the fallen bunch of keys. “I’ve got it.” Flushed with frustration, James began removing his scarf. The cool air nipped at his previously sheltered skin and he shivered slightly. The thought that the cooling touch of night mist brushing against his cheek and now fully exposed neck would likely be as close to any form of physical contact (at least of the human, intimate kind) he would feel tonight made his stomach lurch with longing. Meanwhile, Romeo undoubtedly sober had succeeded in smoothly working the key into the lock on his first attempt and now stood smugly staring at James. This moment of triumph he felt however, was only a temporary pride as he soon found himself left with his own inanimate rival to contend with when the door refused to budge. James watched in unconcerned amusement as Romeo remained there fighting against it for a moment before opting to kindly put the boy out of his misery. “Home dripping with money,“ he began, emitting the sweet jangling sound of metal as he extracted the keys from Romeo grasp. "Victim to multiple break-ins. Streets bestrewn with innumerable criminals and thugs. Do you really think I’d risk leaving my home unattended to without double locking it first?” Romeo blushed as James fiddled around with various sets of keys before holding an individual key up towards the unlit sky, scrutinising it closely with heavy eyes. Satisfied he presented it to Romeo. The door opened offering a welcoming creak. Once both men had crossed the threshold, Romeo made sure to swiftly force it shut in a bid to keep out the uninvited cold. Moments afterwards Romeo turned to find James stood stock-still a few metres away from him. “What is it?” There was a solicitous tone to the boy’s voice. “I didn’t leave the lights on. Somebody’s been here…” “Are you sure? I mean the TV’s still on. Maybe you just forgot.” Leaving the TV switched on whilst the flat remained unaccompanied had only been a recent habit of James’s. Television could never be a true replacement for conversation but it meant not having to go back to a silent flat without Harry there to drain his hot water and leave biscuit crumbs all over his couch. He tried listening now, drowning out the unrelenting pounding in his ears with the familiar senseless sound of a festive family movie playing in the background. Background noise was after all the best company when there was nobody else. He knew that all too well from his solitary days and nights spent inside prison. James laughed bitterly at the thought that his earlier casual mention of intruders had indeed summoned one. “Yes, I’m sure! I’m just the fraction of the slightest bit tipsy, not senile.” He was positioning his fingers in front of him as if pinching the air in order to illustrate the accurate extent of his drunkenness.“I mean, seriously? What is it with people and breaking into my flat?! In fact, who even needs keys when you can just break into your own home? Everybody else seems to have no problem letting themselves in…” Romeo solely shrugged in response, reflecting with regret his own recent commission of this exact crime.

James relieved himself of his jacket, sauntering briefly over towards the kitchen area in order to reunite himself with his deserted, quarter-full wine glass before stroking the side of his nose as if considering something.

Romeo watched uneasily as James reached clumsily over the sink in search of some form of protection before settling his grasp contentedly on the handle of a well-sharpened kitchen knife with a twinkling blade.

“Wow, okay I don’t think that’s entirely necessary,” Romeo discouraged, teasing the knife from James’s loosened grip. “I mean does it appear as if anything has been taken? Seems like a bit of an odd time and place for someone to opt to choreograph a break-in after all.”

“No but that’s not the point,” James said alleviating the wine bottle of its seal before relenting “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I did leave them on and I’m just being paranoid.”

Emotionally drained, James allowed himself to collapse into the firm, plush security of his sofa, gesturing for Romeo to do the same. Now would be a good time for him to offer Romeo the opportunity to spill any details he thought worthy enough of mentioning about his day, which James would acknowledge with dishonest interest with a few stray nods and insincere smiles here and there. Silence on his part would, after all, offer him the chance to recuperate and regain internal strength after another emotionally demanding day; that and another few glasses of wine.

Romeo complied, noting with amusement his father’s apparent abhorrent lack of hosting skills in forgetting to offer him a drink despite pouring out himself one. He was in the middle of describing Marnie’s idea of a fitting Christmas gift for a long-lost grandson when they heard the interrupting muffled thud of a tumbling object. Despite the effect of James’s carpeted bedroom floor swallowing the thump in a swift and soundless brutality, the noise somehow still sounded maiming to James’s own ears.

Two sets of ears pricking up in alarm and both heads turning towards the sound in a brusque manner, James got up with caution, firing Romeo a brief scolding glare of trepidation.“I told you somebody was here!” Romeo simply offered him an apologetic glance in return.

“Stay here!“ James ordered, handing Romeo his glass and removing his shoes before skulking his way over towards the bedroom.

Romeo obeyed readily, unsure about how this next part was going to play out.

As one of his hands latched shakily onto the bedroom door handle, James allowed himself a moment to inspect the scarce, suspicious glow falling in below the door. Then, watchfully turning the handle, he steeled himself to meet his latest in a stream of intruders.

A millisecond’s death glance at his trespasser and James felt as if all breathing had ceased. It was as if he had taken a bullet straight to the heart. His body remained taut in the doorway, face as white as bones in the snow regarding the intruder intently whilst fighting desperately to avoid his pleading gaze. He was standing right in front of the Christmas tree that Romeo (at the boy’s own insistence) had assisted him in putting up just two weeks earlier. Scanning straight past the near concealed hunger in the indescribably captivating blueness of his eyes, James allowed his gaze to fixate briefly on the hideous sight of a perfectly positioned, giant red bow tied a little bit too immaculately around the lad’s neck. Shamefully saddened to find that the bow’s perfectly-even trimmed ends were concealing a fair section of his naked chest, the images of them in bed together soon surfaced in James’s mind. Harry quietly observed as James’s eyes covered the entire length of his unclothed body, furtively withholding the urge to gather James in his arms as James remained unnervingly impassive. His jaw, a perfectly sketched outline, left unshaven. No bruises like he had dreamt. Abs still as perfectly formed and unyielding as the last time he’d traced them with delicate fingertips. Down further still, no further trace of clothing right down to his feet.

Harry feeling increasingly exposed at James’s hardening gaze and its accompanying silence desperately willed for the moment to pass. Soon enough, as if satisfied, James allowed his eyes to fall briskly towards the floor.

"James?” Harry took several tentative steps forward towards James. An extensive involuntary smile tugged at Harry’s lips. For a blissful moment, Harry allowed himself to replay his desired imagining of their reunion, of James falling bonelessly into his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck in order to re-familiarise himself with the consoling cloud of Harry’s boyish scent. But James could barely bring himself to look at him. This was not how it was supposed to go. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting exactly. Not that he could exactly blame James for opting to mask the conflicting emotion of pain and yearning with a hard-hearted silence but his rather dispassionate response stung Harry in a way that he couldn’t quite grasp; at least rage would have been something.

For the first time in months, James allowed himself to lock eyes with Harry to which Harry’s own automatically began to sparkle. James’s face was set hard like concrete, with not a single twitch of resentment or longing to betray him.

“Harry? Wha—”

“Dad, is everything okay?” Romeo froze in wordless terror. The boy was left in an apparent paralysed state of perturbation, all apart from his eyes which had darted with overstated eagerness away from Harry and now remained plastered on the ceiling.

Feeling thoroughly humiliated at Romeo’s unexpected arrival, Harry was certain that he’d never blushed this immensely in his entire life. Hands instinctively slipping in a downwards direction to cover himself, Harry repressed the urge to dive straight out of the window and leap onto the next departing plane to Australia, first forsaking his pride before abandoning his disaster of a life and its many chapters to the mercy of the many intrusive villagers (or cockroaches as James would say) that resided in the streets of Chester.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” James reproached trying his best to sound nonchalant, which was rather a struggle given the circumstances.

Numbly his feet carried him towards a small heap of discarded clothes forming a sodden mound carelessly by the foot of the bed closest to James’s side of the room. A jumper, a vest, a pair of jeans, socks, all dripping wet; odd seeing as it wasn’t raining outside. James released a weary sigh, infinitely grateful to find that Harry’s boxers were not in the same saturated condition as its sopping counterparts. He took a moment to quell the lurching pulse he felt at the base of his throat before turning back to readdress Harry, tossing the only slightly dampened pair of boxers aimfully in his direction. Harry smiled ruefully both in acknowledgement and shame.

Out of respect to Harry, James ensured to turn away whilst Harry made to dress himself. When James finally dared to speak again his voice was very low but still full of indecipherable emotion. “Harry, what are you doing here?” he directed to the floor.

“I…” Harry fell silent, his lips forming a soundless shuddering plea: James, I love you. Just take me in your arms and hold me, please. He was shivering.

James could feel the muscles in his hands twitching, still trying to process the sight of his half-naked lover. Whilst his head desperately told him to flee before his guard had a chance to slip and leave his heart defenceless once more, he couldn’t deny the inner compulsion he felt to just hold him. James’s mouth twitched as if intending to say something but said nothing. Instead he began edging his way across the room but only to retrieve an inadequately-sized fleece blanket from a pile of folded linen to wrap Harry up in. A groan escaped from Harry as James secured the blanket around his pale, trembling shoulders. He was slightly thinner than James had remembered which only made the temptation to submit himself to desire and secure him into a fixed embrace all the more difficult to withstand but somehow he managed. As much as he ached from resisting, James could not quite stifle a feeble, defeated moan from escaping his own lips. Harry’s leaping heart now just a hairbreadth away from his own, he was sure he could feel it reaching for him through the cold air, beating hard against him like a little drum. He tried his best to ignore it before leading Harry unresistingly away from the cold surroundings of the bedroom to the living room.

Romeo long departed from the bedroom by this time, was sitting hunched on the edge of the sofa, apparently so far engrossed in ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’ that it wasn’t until he heard the click and consequent loud steaming of a kettle that he realised Harry sat awkwardly beside him. The blanket enveloping Harry was large enough to just about cover his shoulders but not enough to prevent several abs from peeping through. Romeo was almost certain this had been a deliberate move on James’s part.

Retrieving the hideous, red Christmas jumper that Harry had borrowed from him the previous year (and fucked him in, although he urged this particular thought to fall from his mind), James removed the bow from Harry’s neck before assisting him in shouldering his shivering form into the scratchy, insatiable embrace of the jumper. The jumper was a baggy fit and Harry allowed his hands to disappear into the cuffs. Draping the blanket over Harry’s uncovered legs, James wandered back towards the kitchen to work on making a coffee for Harry in a bid to warm him up further as well as pouring out a glass of champagne for Romeo; as earlier promised.

The dull smack of a porcelain mug on the coffee table signalled James preparing to get down to business, derailing Harry from paranoid thoughts about the possibility of losing James for good in failure of winning around his affections.

Meanwhile, eyes focused and unmoving and ears concentrating desperately on the sounds of the television in a strenuous effort to distract himself from the tense atmosphere, Romeo also started at the sound. When he heard the sound of his own drink smack against the table, followed by the brief scratching of glass against glass as James pushed it close enough towards him for it to be within his reach, he did not waste the energy to lift his head, assuming that his father’s acquired taste in alcoholic beverages would differ vastly from his own. Freeing his hands from the jumper, Harry wrapped them securely around the steamy mug and inhaled deeply, instantly feeling more awakened from breathing in the caffeine as well as alert from the transient sighting of James’s sullen glare.

Both Harry’s modesty and warmth restored, James prepared himself mentally for the gentle method of interrogation he had lined up for Harry, not entirely certain that he wished to know the answers. Restless and unable to bring himself to sit, he began pacing listlessly around the sitting area before planting his feet behind the coffee table, obscuring Romeo’s view of the television. Wine bottle and glass back within reach, he took the opportunity to pour himself out another glass and God he was going to need it. Shuffling as far to the end of the sofa as he could without losing sight of the TV or having to crane his neck to block James out of his field of vision, Romeo remained locked in an awkward position as rigid as a statue until a twinge in his neck forced him to reposition. The sofa’s thick layer of cushions meant that he was already perched awkwardly towards its end, making his position uncomfortable enough already. This as well as knowledge about the probable confrontation that was about to come between the two stubborn lovers did nothing to ease his discomfort. Sighing and surrendering himself to the unwelcome demands of discomfort, Romeo leaned back in his seat. Looking back up at his father, he detected an indication of vexation in his eyes. Maybe the champagne was a good idea after all.

Watching James take a long sip of his drink, Romeo was encouraged to reach for his own glass. Having uttered nothing since his unexpected encounter with a stark naked Harry, the soothing, bitter trickle of bubbles down his throat made Romeo suddenly aware of its niggling dryness. Likening the taste of the champagne to bile in his mind, Romeo forced down the second gulp pulling a discreet expression of repugnance so as not to offend his father.

Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from James, towering unstably above the two of them as if about to perform a one-person show. Witnessing Harry staring at him as if his eyes were the window into the soul, as if they held the answers of how exactly to earn back the heart of a resentful, emotionally stunted lawyer, James was encouraged to speak.

“What do you want Harry?”James asked firmly, setting his jaw tightly to keep from losing his composure in front of Romeo.

His tone was still surprisingly calm. Usually Harry loved that particular uncertainness about James, like how he could never quite decide whether his eyes were hazel or green but this current unruffled demeanour of his was causing him anxiety.

“What do I want?” Harry echoed softly, pushing the blanket aside before rising warily up from the sofa. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come back to you James.“ James swallowed deeply, only this time it wasn’t enough to quell his anger. “You’ve came back to me? Am I hearing this right?” James disbelieving, began shaking his head slightly as if to clear the buzzing of Harry’s words from his ears. Slowly, the rush in his ears that came with the echo of Harry’s declaration subsided. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these past few months? Anything could have happened to you! For all I knew, you could have been lying dead somewhere in a ditch!”

A shiver coursed through Harry’s spine, the jumper, blanket and hot tea combination offering only an insufficient barrier against the lancing coldness of James’s tone. Harry all but stammered in response. “I know, look I’m sorry… I should have told you where I was… I just… I needed some time alone to just get my head straight. So much had happened and… I thought…”

James lacking both the patience and will to allow Harry to break into his usual long recitation of excuses cut him short. “You thought what? What exactly did you think was going to happen Harry? You thought you’d come waltzing back into my life wearing nothing but a tacky bow and I’d just be standing here with my arms wide open like the fool I am willing to put my entire life on hold for you at the flaccid snap of your fingertips? As I said you’re a child Harry and I’m not about to let my heart be stomped on all over again by a pathetic schoolboy who can scarcely manage to decide what he wants for dinner let alone who or what he wants from life. People move on. Maybe I’ll give you a little moment to try and get your puerile head around that.” He turned as if to walk away but his feet remained planted in the same position by the coffee table.

Harry allowed his head to fall in grudging defeat.

Witnessing this, Romeo repressed the urge to remind James of the little red bow he’d added as a personal touch to the box of shoes he’d purchased for him just a month ago in a desperate bid to win him over; that and the fact that deciding what was for dinner was in no way an easy affair. Bowing his head to conceal the involuntarily curling of his mouth at the memory, he tried contemplating what would be a more delicate approach to assisting Harry in making his father see sense before settling with “Apart from you haven’t really moved on, have you?” “Oh what, so you’ve known me for five minutes and now suddenly you’re an expert on my love life and the inner workings of my mind.” James countered. “Hey! Don’t take it out on him. This is between us!” Harry interjected.

“Oh so what, you’re allies now are you? Friends? Well at least something good has come out of this rather unsolicited reunion.”

Harry felt a hand plant itself unconfidently on the side of his neck. “He doesn’t mean that,” Romeo affirmed, allowing his hand to slide down towards Harry’s shoulder before squeezing reassuringly.

“Oh, don’t I? Won you over like that did he?” James snapped his fingers. “And all it took was a flash of abs and five seconds exposure to his boyish charm.”

“Well he certainly did a better job of a first impression than you did.”Romeo retorted coldly, watching warily as James began eyeing him closely, subjecting each side of his neck and face to a scrutinizing gaze before turning to address Harry despite Romeo being the chosen victim of his incoming remark.

“Well, would you look at that? It seems as though we have a malfunctioning off-switch and just when I was starting to see the appeal. Remind me to find the receipt and ask for an earlier dribbling replacement model. Sons are no fun once they start talking back to you.” Harry lowered his eyes as James began inching in towards him, lowering his stance until his mouth was at level with Harry’s right ear. “That’s if I haven’t already succeeded in throwing you out by then,” he uttered in a low voice with the balefulness he intended.

The taunting made an angry flush rise in Romeo’s cheeks.

Harry on the other hand did not care for James’s games. He was too far engrossed in thoughts of a future where nights with James were no longer something to be craved for, where they no longer had to act on spontaneity, that and the equal possibility of losing it all.

“Yeah, well you needn’t bother with the replacement. I was just leaving” Romeo spat, rising so hastily from his chair that he felt a sudden cramping in his stomach. Harry looked up at him, a desperate pleading in his eyes as if willing for the boy to stay but he’d already torn his eyes away from Harry’s direction to busy himself with locating his jacket. “No, you are not!” James snapped. “Just sit down and drink your champagne!”

“I’d sooner drink toilet water!” Romeo bristled, still feeling the presence of its vandalising taste on his tongue and lips. Ignoring Romeo, James went to grab Harry by the shoulder of his jumper, fighting to keep his hold of the fistful of wool as Harry struggled fiercely against him.

“Wait, what are you doing? James, wait no!”

Grabbing onto Harry’s arm to secure his hold, James began tugging him firmly towards the direction of the front door.

“James let go!” Feeling the pull strengthen, out of instinct Harry tried his best to resist, planting his feet firmly at first before leaning backwards to make the act of dragging him across the floor all the more arduous on James’s part.

When James’s efforts failed to seize, Harry tried twisting his body around in an attempt to wiggle his way out of the jumper, which only resulted in a tight readjustment of James’s clasp on his wrist convincing him that the use of words as ammunition was probably a better option in trying to reason with James.

“I’m not going to let you throw me out again! I’m not just going to give up on us!”

Harry felt James’s grip automatically loosen at his words. “Us? There is no-” James returned to eyeing the floor. As Harry filled in what James could not bring himself to finish, a whimper escaped from him.

“James, just listen to me!” Somewhere in the midst of all of this emotional outrage and pleading, tears had begun tainting the natural blue glow of Harry’s eyes. He reached for James, tugging defeatedly at his shirt cuff like a kid reluctant to go to school tugging away at their parent’s sleeve.

“Do not touch me!”

“You said before I left that the only reason I was here was because I had nowhere else to go and do you know what James? You were right. These past couple of months away made me realise, now more than ever, I don’t belong anywhere else or with anybody else. I belong with you! You did this! You made me fall in love with you James whether you intended to or not.” “Oh so now it’s my fault is it?”

“Yes!” Harry croaked with furtive defeat, mirroring with hurt the look of lancing accusation in James’s eyes.

For several minutes, nothing more was said. There was just the unrelenting pin drop silence whispering the truth hauntingly to James into the distance. As much as he wanted to deny it, he could not be without Harry and whilst so much had changed for him since the day Harry had left, the overbearing love he felt for the boy was certainly not one of them.

“You told me to go James! You told me it was over!” With a visible effort James returned to talking calmly. “Yes, and what I meant by that was… Look I was angry Harry, justifiably so. And yes, admittedly everything that I said that night might just have been said in the heat of the moment but that doesn’t change the fact that you married someone else-“ “Yes and marrying Ste was the worst mistake of my life!” James went on as though not hearing him. “Nor does it change the fact that you just upped and left without telling anyone, without telling me! Without any means of communication—” “I know but James, it wasn’t planned. Look, after you threw me out, I went to see my dad and he… he made me realise that… that—” James’s insides constricted at the thickness of vulnerability in Harry’s voice.“That what Harry?” He prodded gently.

“That I’m a disgusting person!” Harry choked out.

At that a lump formed in James’s throat which he tried to coax down unsuccessfully. “Okay wow, when you said you were after an emotional reunion this isn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Romeo drawled, just about done with the day’s events.

James forgetting that Romeo was there followed the direction of the voice, turning briefly to face his son who was now standing in his father’s abandoned spot by the coffee table.

“Emotional reunion? What are you talking about?” James uttered cluelessly.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Romeo shrugged off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Several doubts crossed James’s mind but it wasn’t long before concern for Harry took over, pushing away any thoughts he might have had about Romeo and the questionable innocence of his suspicious passing comment.

Switching his focus back to Harry, James reached for him, planting a hand on his back before moving his fingers soothingly along his arm. Harry who stood with his head in his hands, fingers furrowed deeply into his hair, stirred at the feel of James’s gentle touch. For him the slip in James’s mask betraying his habitual overprotective attitude was just the small piece of normalcy in these past few months of emotional turmoil that he needed.

“Listen Harry, you’re not a disgusting person.”

“Apart from I am!” Harry pulled away. “You’re not seriously going to make me go through the whole bright young lad talk again, are you?” “Look, I’m sorry I should never have come back here. I’m an idiot for thinking this was ever going to work.” “No you don’t.” James caught Harry’s wrist before his hand had a chance to reach the lock. “You’re not an idiot Harry. Arrogant, conceited however, that you certainly are. I mean this, really?” James said, briefly lifting up Harry’s jumper and gesturing the length of his partially exposed body. “You thought you could crush my heart from leaving and just win me over like that?” “Are you denying that you weren’t in the slightest part tempted?” Harry blushed. “I just wanted to surprise you.” “Oh, well you surprised me alright.” “In a good or bad way?” “Well put it this way, even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Harry asked resignedly, sounding disheartened. James lowered his voice thoughtfully in a bid to spare Romeo of any further awkwardness. “If you honestly think I want my son familiarising himself with my sex noises before he’s even had the chance to discover my middle name then you can think again.”

Despite still hearing everything, Romeo let his gaze wander appreciatively over towards his father, finally thankful for an opportunity to leave. “It’s okay, I was just heading off now anyway,” he said, feigning an appreciative smile. “Thanks for the champagne.”

“Oh, it’s nothing” said James, waving a hand in dismissal. “Any time.”

“Yeah, about that…” Romeo began, pulling up the collar of his jacket in preparation for his much apprehensively awaited reunion with the frosty night. “I may have to turn you down on that offer.” Then he turned to address Harry.

“I guess I should probably thank you too, for the…. rather unpleasant sight,” he said, making no attempt to mask the amusement he felt in his voice at the recollection of Harry’s predicament.

Harry looking away but sensing Romeo’s intense gaze boring into his back, shuddered. Hesitantly, he turned towards him nodding a momentary acknowledgment at his words of thanks before remembering something. “Wait Romeo, before you go… thanks for this by the way.” “No problem mate, any time.” James’s heart skipped a beat when he realised what was going on. “Wait a minute. Were you in on this?” “Mostly. Although he might have forgotten to mention the naked part…” Romeo responded rather matter of factly, with total disregard for Harry’s already harmed pride. "So that’s why you were so insistent on cluttering my bedroom up with a tree and cheap charity shop lights.” “I think that’s his way of saying thank you.” “Thank you Harry but I can speak for myself. Romeo… son… I just wanted to thank you…”

Romeo pretending to be underwhelmed at James’s words, screwed his face up as if awaiting more than just a simple thanks for his efforts.

“Wholeheartedly” James added readily if not willingly before opening his arms to offer his son a hug.

“All right that’ll do,” Romeo smirked. “Don’t push it. You’re most certainly welcome Dad.”

xxx

Hearing the door slam behind Romeo, James wasted no time in reaching for Harry in an unconscious act of indulgence. Grasping at the jumper’s woollen neckline he tugged Harry unceremoniously in towards him. At James’s touch, Harry’s composure began to crumble and he allowed his head to fall forward until it rested just below the soothing, incessant flutter of James’s quickened heartbeat. Harry closed his eyes tightly as James cradled his head lovingly against his chest, concentrating only on the sound of James’s breathing and how it calmed at the contact of his touch. It felt so good to finally hold him, to feel James’s warm breathe filter against his cheek, to smell him. Reaching up with his right hand, James brushed his cold fingertips along the fine layer of stubble on Harry’s jaw, around his earlobe and down his neck. Feeling his muscles stir under James’s touch, Harry grabbed a fistful of James’s shirt before reciprocating gentle strokes around the nape of James’s own neck, fingers brushing lightly over the fine mass of hairs there. James lowered his head and at as best an attempt as he could manage at trying to mould the quivering in his voice into something seductive, whispered into Harry’s ear "So, seeing as we’re now alone…” He was interrupted as Harry yanked at his tie, inadvertently tightening it in an attempt to pull James in closer. Harry’s fingers began working eagerly to free his lover’s neck of the long, restrictive piece of cloth but his hands shook so much with the cold and hunger for James’s body that he could not reloosen the knot, only succeeding in tightening it further. After several futile attempts of trying to release the knot, he allowed his hands to fall, inching back slightly as if to leave room for James’s incoming assistance. Smiling down at a defeated Harry, whose cheeks were glowing in frustration in a faded shade of cardinal, James began delicately picking apart the knot with his fingernails. Wearing a self-congratulatory expression, James allowed Harry to do the honours of removing the tie from his neck. Feeling James’s hand slip down towards his waist and cling tightly to him just above his hips, Harry was inspired to speak. “So, tell me… what is it you were going to suggest we do Mr Nightingale?“ he uttered in a low, suggestive voice brushing a thumb gently across his lover’s lips eliciting a broad, mischievous grin from James. "Hmmm, why don’t you go and take these off, put that red bow of yours back on and I’ll walk back in without my sixteen year old son and try to pretend to look just the slightest bit interested.” “I’m not so sure about that.” Harry teased, unlatching James’s fingers from his waist before turning his head mock sulkingly away from him. "After all, you did say that the bow was tacky?” James cleared his throat. “Well…” he began unperturbed. “You know what I said about how some things can be said in the heat of the moment and all.” Reaching for his face, James ran his fingers gradually along Harry’s neck and then down towards his chin, grabbing him firmly by the jaw and turning his face complaisantly back towards him. Looking down, James stared right into the lecherous gaze of Harry Thompson. The lawyer froze. “Screw the bow,” Harry said, heedlessly forcing James backwards into a fortunate soft landing of blanket and pillows. Harry sitting crouched over him, James assisted him in wrestling his way out of the Christmas jumper, relieving his soft skin of its unpleasant scratchy material. Skin exposed to the cold air and chest no longer encompassed in its safe pocket of warmth, Harry began to shiver, not that it at all longer mattered to him that he was cold. What mattered was that he felt an urgent need, one that could not be relieved without the sacrifice of his warmth. He wanted James’s hands and kisses all over him; his admiring touch brushing along every single one of his bones and joints, down every inch and crevice. Harry waited with bated breath as James began the arduous affair of unbuttoning his shirt, buttons escaping fitfully from his fingers at the sense of urgency for him to undress. Every now and then, following a stalled attempt at releasing a button, James would lean in to place a teasing wet kiss on Harry’s neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one undressing me?” James mused aloud. “Only if you want to be here all night.” Harry replied softly, beguiling the time it took for James to rid himself of his shirt by attempting to steady his hands, occupying them with gently threading his fingers through James’s hair. He paused occasionally to inhale its enticing scent. All attempts to rein his excitement were futile and he felt pleasurable shudders of eagerness course through him all the same. Reaching the final button, James brushed a hand over Harry’s sandy sweep of hair, running his fingers to the back of his head before coming to rest at the side of his neck. Forcefully stripping James of his shirt, Harry’s fingers curled instantly into the back of his neck, other hand stroking lightly back and forth across his chest causing the lawyer to swallow a moan. Returning Harry’s affections, James began trailing his thumb down the length of his spine, stroking from the base of his skull down to his tailbone, nosing occasionally behind his ear to plant firm, wet kisses on the edge of his neck. Sliding his hand teasingly around Harry’s back across to the graceful build of his abdomen, James began drawing along the soft indentations of Harry’s ribs before roaming downwards, hand stretching the elastic at the front of his boxers. The taunting touch made Harry arch involuntarily upwards. Nearly headbutting James in the chin, he choked down a relieved sharp breath. Then screwing his eyes shut, Harry exhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was to come. “James” Harry whined, cursing inwardly at the fulfilment he felt at the act of James easing the boxers past his waist, dropping at his knees. James developing quite some determination at the rate that things were moving, at how Harry near melted at his touch began guiding Harry’s fingers towards his belt buckle. James’s hands now clutching at his buttocks, Harry carried out the task of unbuckling the belt in a breathless silence, breathing labouredly through wide nostrils and an open mouth. With his fingers trembling as much as they were and incapable of shifting his position at James’s firm groping of his ass, Harry struggled with the buckle. Witnessing just how much Harry’s hands were shaking, James shifted to help, rising slightly to give a better view of the buckle. “Got it” Harry announced beaming, looking up for James’s approval. James began kissing him for a while in ravenous silence, preventing any need for a response. As Harry’s hands began wandering down towards his zip, a soft sigh escaped from James. Feeling the tug below his waist, James reached for Harry’s shoulder, clutching its supple broadness for support, grip tautening as Harry yanked a little harder at the zip. Feeling the eventual downward slide of his trousers closely succeeded by his underwear, James pressed his face into the side of Harry’s neck sucking lightly, gripping Harry tighter still by the shoulders as the lad began groaning aloud pleasurably. Unlatching James’s tongue from his neck Harry coaxed him back down, crouching over him to readopt their earlier position. James could feel Harry progressively hardening against his belly. Allowing Harry a moment to smother his body in tender kisses, James closed his eyes reaching up blindly to tickle the perfect curvature of his abs. Slowly, Harry lowered himself, pressing his face against James’s chest, caressing its fine hairs with rapture. Harry’s fingers reaching the edge of his hip, James laid his hand over Harry’s, stilling it. Taking a moment to appreciate the youthful softness of the hand, James began running his fingers pleasantly along the thin bones, closing his eyes in tender admiration for the simple promise of the incoming pleasure they offered.

Then unable to resist for much longer, James turned over, pulling himself from underneath Harry’s lithe form. Once again freeing his tongue from the confines of his mouth, James proceeded to cover Harry from head to toe in soppy kisses, silence broken only momentarily for Harry to utter “As if you’re starting with my feet?” “It’s called working my way up…. from the best bits.” As James continued working his way up Harry’s body, Harry tensed even more, clawing at a nearby cushion as he endured the pleasurable scraping of James’s beard against his naked thighs, of the warm trail of drool and breath he left behind. Then, feeling the firm parting of his cheeks, of James’s nose brushing against the base of his spine down towards his crack Harry cried out helplessly, eyes fluttering shut as James prepared to take him.

xxx

They lay cuddled up together on the sofa afterwards, James clutching onto Harry’s hand, unwilling to let go. James having found a larger blanket to accommodate the two of them had pulled it far up until it rested snugly beneath their chins. All resentment and tension in their air was gone and there was only tenderness between them. Naturally, Harry laid in front of James, pressed tightly against him as the smaller spoon, James stooping his face slightly every now and then to nuzzle his face into Harry’s hair. They fit best that way.

Tired out from the steady act of making love to his fit, young lover and relishing in the satisfying radiance of warmth that came as a result of their bodies being pressed compactly against each other, James had seen no reason to move. Harry on the other hand, was pained by the one small inconvenience that came with having his back to James, of not being able to admire his beautiful face.

Eventually resigning himself to desire and using cramp as an excuse to move, Harry gradually eased his way out of the embrace with an opposing James. James remained curled up in a worn out slump on the sofa, content and unmoving as Harry spent a long time looking down adoringly at his face, abrading his skin with his stunning blue eyes.

Pressing a kiss on his temple, Harry ran a finger gingerly across a small cut on James’s lip, not recalling the taste of blood during their rather intense and ruthless make-out session on the floor.

Looking up at Harry’s eyes examining his busted lip James laughed. “Don’t even consider taking credit for that. That was me trying to prevent myself from waking up the entire neighbourhood when you started… you know, sucking…”

Harry remaining silent, smiled proudly at the not-so-distant memory.

“So tell me, is this the best present you’ve ever had?” Harry asked eventually, voice still very much hoarse with lust. “Possibly a close fifth,” James smiled wryly. “Fifth? And what would that be after exactly.” “Hmm let’ see, first, a stolen childhood from my father. Second, a false murder allegation that nearly saw me get a lifetime inside. Third, nearly losing you to that drug addled, tracksuit sporting low life—” James began stating grimly before being cut off by a concerned Harry. “Yeah well you’ll get none of those things from me. I’m never leaving you again.” “Lucky me.” James murmured playfully to himself. “Oi! I heard that. So come on then what was the forth?” “Well, I was going to say a child spawned by none other than the prostitute that my worthless excuse of a father forced me to sleep with but seeing as this particular child in question was partially responsible for this most welcomed reunion with my living, breathing bed warmer—” James stopped briefly as Harry shot him a lurid death glance.

The snarky remarks slipped so easily off James’s tongue. Harry had worked him so hard he was surprised he still had the energy to come up with such things. “And might just be starting to grow on me,” he continued. “I guess we could settle for you leaving me to believe that you were quite possibly dead in a ditch somewhere. "Oh come on James, I’ve already apologised for that.” Harry said defensively. “So…” James added quickly, desperately willing for a subject change. “Tell me, how exactly did your clothes end up soaking wet?” “Well I may have run them underneath the shower in cause things didn’t go accordingly to plan.” “Ahhhh…” James quirked an eyebrow. “You know so that you’d think against throwing me out before I had a chance to explain things to you.” "And you weren’t, you know… living on the streets?” James approached this particular subject softly. “No,” Harry smiled assuringly. “I was staying with Mum." "I see.” James sighed relievedly. Harry was gratified at the warm smile James bestowed on him in response. “Well, I guess now it’s time for your present.” “And what would that be?” Harry winked suggestively at him. “Round two?” “Not quite, although that could certainly be arranged…” To himself only, James questioned whether he would last a second round considering how much his muscles ached. “Although…” James began abstractedly. “Although?" "Although, it might be your turn to-” James trailed off, blushing and Harry rewarded him with a grin laced with promise and determination.

“Anyway, your present…” James rose from his cosy nest on the sofa, pausing both to clear his throat and to retrieve something from his jacket pocket. Then, taking hold of one of Harry’s hands and positioning it so that his palm remained widespread, he planted two small, cold shining silver objects into its surface before placing his own hand firmly on top.

“Here’s your… keys back.”

#jarry #filledjarryprompt #au harry returns #tw past abuse #christmas #submission

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