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et-cant-phone-home-no-signal · 4 months ago

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The Last of Us HBO - Episode 3 thoughts

Warning: Pure yapping ahead again! You know the drill, it's my thoughts, things I've noticed and things I've enjoyed watching the show. It's not that serious, and I don't invite arguments (fellow yappers however are heartily welcome)

(and we're back with another episode analysis! this is a fucking long one folks, they seem to keep getting more and more. i had a lot of feelings watching this episode, especially as a young queer person, it's very special to me and i'm very pleased with the way it was written and performed. A* performance all around imo. as usual, spoilers below the cut)

Could write a whole ass essay on Joel's hands but I'll keep it simple - hands that break bone and kill men are also capable of softness and grief, capable of destruction as well as creation. This opening moment is so poignant and beautiful, god bless - Tess deserves more than a cairn but that's all Joel can do, so he does it - this is Joel saying "I'm sorry, you should still be here and it's my fault"

The gentle music

I've noticed that Joel is very snatchy, he snatches and grabs things often (throwback to me noticing he's a twitchy man in the episode 2 thoughts)

Ellie having Joel's jacket over her legs to keep her warm :')

The way he grabs one tiny bit of jerky, then throws the rest to Ellie, fuck

Ooooh Ellie confrontating Joel with the "look this wasn't my fault", I like it tbh, she's right and he had to hear that cause he's the kind of person to hold a grudge and also blame himself at the same time

First mention of Joel's head scar let's go, planting the question that won't be answered properly for some time ("Someone shot at me and missed." ... "No, I missed too." 🤌🙌)

"You ask a lot of goddamned questions." "Yes, I do 🌸✨"

The return of - "Is there anything bad in here?" "Just you." "Ah. Getting funnier."

Joel's quiet "fuck" cause he can't remember where he stashed his shit is so real, he's so me

Love the little moment of her excitement at finding a pack of unopened tampons - teenage girls in the apocalypse gotta do what they gotta do

I so wonder what's going on in her head during this scene

Totally awesome makeup and prosthetics

Ellie, my darling, you're channeling child psychopath right now (but also I too feel curious as fuck and seeing the fucking growth under the skin being purely cordyceps is so gross and awesome)

Can now come up with a few ideas of what was going on in her head when she stabs it

The concern in Joel's voice, the nonchalant way she saunters out with the tampons 🤌

Also love the constant theme of Ellie suggesting/asking/pushing for a gun and Joel always saying no

Ellie's fascination for things that we take for granted - flying in a plane

"I thought you went to school." "FEDRA school. They don't teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic." REAL SO REAL

Info dump love it let's gooo

Joel's little pause on pancake mix...

I really love that even though Joel still sees her as a burden and nothing more than cargo, he still wants to protect her from the nasty shit, he doesn't want a child to see whatever is up there - and Ellie's "well now I have to see" is so fucking childish, she suffers the consequences of that decision but it's a beautiful storytelling mechanism

It's such a terrible visual, all of these old dry bones, 2 decades old, none of them died of infection, no, they died by human hands

The transition 😭😭😭😭 the fabrics cutting to the people IN the fabrics - a fucking mother and her tiny baby I am in TEARS

Great introduction to Bill and great first line, "not today you new world order jackboot fucks" 💅👏

The details of the following shots - the gun wall, guns & ammo magazine, big bottles of sulfuric acid, ammo, the sub basement in a general shot and small things to notice (taxidermied animal in the left bottom corner, everything meticulously ordered on the shelves, the screen setup)

Genuinely think it's hilarious that the sub basement is hidden under a TRUNK and Bill steps out with a gasmask on and hunting rifle cocked, he's such a funny sight and Nick Offerman does a fantastic job just in this first part already - it's so video game coded tbh

The music swell into a montage (let's be honest) of him doing his little doomsday prep shit is fantastic - the mix of totally fucking apeshit stuff (setting boobytraps and fences) added with super domestic stuff (growing his own veggies and rearing chickens) is so amusing

The remote controls 😭 I remember, we had a TV like that when I was a kid

The 'dont tread on me' flag is an interesting and noteworthy thing to mention - I know some about it but I had to Google for more information on it, and it makes sense that Bill would have a flag like that in his home

"Are you armed?" ".... No." "Why did you take that long to answer?" "I don't know, I thought about lying for some reason, but a reason didn't come." Amazing introduction

The fact that Frank bears his neck just a little to let Bill test him, even though he's clearly nervous

Cheeky man shooting his shot with the "I'm really hungry" line, he could tell immediately he could try this with Bill

The whole Arby's line followed by the Arby's was never free 😂💀

I think this is the moment Frank truly began to clock that he and Bill are cut from the same cloth, it's such a nothing but everything moment

I think it's so amusing that Bill has such a lovely house and has been living there successfully for 4 years in the outbreak so far, but there's dust fucking all over the dressers and shit 😂😭 man doesn't have cleaning on his priority list and I can see Frank thinking "damn he needs someone else here huh"

God they're so awkward 😩💕

Frank's SMILE, the way he looks at Bill like he just gave him the world - Murray Bartlett god bless you

The way Frank doesn't even wait one second, he fucking digs in immediately, yeah I believe u haven't eaten in 2 days hun

But look how delicate he holds the cutlery, he's someone who probably used to enjoy living decently and enjoyed good food before it all went to shit - he clearly loves the food (yeah he's hungry but that's the kind of "damn this is restaurant level" reaction you'd expect on something like masterchef), and his excitement at the wine is fucking adorable

"A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais." "I know I don't seem like the type." " No, you do." HELP

Frank stop bullying the poor man's music sheet collection lmao

So I didn't know Linda Ronstadt before this at all, so I googled her and listened to some of her music - it's very nice, though not something I could really stick myself into, it's more like nice music to just have playing in the background whilst I'm working personally - but I do just so love that the characters can have a connection over it. That's one of the great joys of music

Bill standing in the back, wringing his hands because damn Frank, you're kinda butchering it lmao

Oh this song means something so much more

"There is no girl." "I know." sobbing

Same-sex marriage wasn't legal in Massachusetts until 2004, so they never got to know legal and safe love and still, here they are 😭 I'm in my feels over this because these men never got to be safe and out, they never got to be open with their relationships, and now they've found each other in a broken fucked up world that doesn't given a shit who you are, it will just try to kill you regardless

This kiss means so much to me - oh Bill 😭

Both of them with wet eyes, overwhelmed with emotion, and Frank asks "what's your name?" I'm so deceased

This is the softest most natural and sweet non explicit sex scene I've ever watched. I watched this with my mum and not once did I feel embarrassed, both of us thought it was a beautiful moment and very human - Bill has never had the opportunity to be with a man before, he's what, in his late 30s? Early 40s? And Frank is so non-judgemental over this lack of experience. He knows, he gets it, he understands. This whole scene is just soft, gentle and brought me to tears. This is the kind of queer representation I've been yearning for in mainstream media and it's so rare to find 🙌

Skip to 3 years on and it's a lovers quarrel, so fucking real

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. I live in this world, you live in a psycho bunker where 9/11 was an inside job, and the government are all Nazis." "THE GOVERNMENT ARE ALL NAZIS!" BE SO FOR REAL (I can't believe this is real script I'm vibrating with joy) - they've clearly had discussions like this before because Frank just goes straight to threatening to off himself which I find hysterical

They have such different love languages - Frank is an artist, he cares about small details, Bill is more practical, he'll cook and protect but so help him if you wanna use resources for something he seems frivolous

The angry "you WHAT!?" immediately cutting to Frank, Bill, Tess and Joel eating lunch outside is *chef's kiss*

💕✨Tess✨💕 I love you so much

Frank and Tess: 🥰✨🌸

Bill and Joel: 💀🔪⚠️

"I understand. If my, uh... If mine, brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn't be happy either." Oh Joel,,,,,

I love how even though this is 7 years into the cordyceps pandemic, you can see Joel is so similar to the 20 year mark, "get that gun outta my face", like yeah you tell him

I do adore the total lack of judgement from Joel (and Tess) that Bill and Frank are together, cause he clearly knows but it just doesn't bother him. Ally behaviour ✨ (does Joel give bi energy? discuss)

Why does Joel's warning feel like a prelude

Crying at two men eating fresh strawberries wasn't on my 2024 bingo card, but here I am, sobbing my eyes out with joy at these two - their giggles and pure joy at eating something they haven't had in like 10 years, the shared love and contentment in that hazy evening sun, the way Frank grabs onto Bill and just holds his arm in his,,,, I'm just such a mess

"I'm sorry." "For what?" "Getting older faster than you." "Ah, I like you older. Older means we're still here." 😭😭😭💕

"I was never afraid before you showed up." Fucking stop it oh my god

"Not on the strawberries!" Yeah that got me chuckling too

I fucking KNEW it, people are the worst, Joel was right

I just noticed Frank is wearing house slippers in this scene oh my god

Wish we'd gotten a little scene of Bill teaching Frank to shoot, could you imagine?

I like that even though Bill is in excruciating pain and thinks he's dying, he still wants Frank to be safe and insists he calls Joel, and isn't that also something? That at this point Joel is a safe enough person for him to even consider that the most important thing

The cut to 2023, seeing them Old and Frank basically immobile,,,, yeah that stings

Gonna note down my love for the costume, makeup, hair and set departments here for this episode - they aged these two so well, their clothes suit them, and the small gradual changes in decorating and scenery (in and outside the house) are seen and appreciated immensely

Paint used to be a frivolity, now Frank's paintings are everywhere <3

The wink had me giggling, they're so cute

Love is cutting your partner's food, giving them a cup with a straw because it's easier for them, helping with their medication, sitting next to them because each other is all that matters - love is staying with your partner and helping them into their bed because they can't do it themselves anymore

The painting of Bill in their bedroom :')

The certainty when Frank says this is his last day.... It's so painful but I'm also so glad he has the choice, that he's deciding that this is it - it's better than what most people get

Bill crying is 😭😭 he needs Frank

Love this realistic speech from Frank here - no, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but it was still fucking decent and that's what matters

I cannot describe the noise I made when he talked about getting married

"Do you love me?" "Yes." Bill's face, yes of course he fucking does Frank, he'd do anything for you - but he needs this guidance, one more time

When "On the Nature of Daylight" started playing, I shit you not, I had a damn near meltdown and mum made me pause the show because I started to get so damn upset. That song is fairly overused for these kind of sad scenes and situations, but fuck, does it get me every single time

Getting married by the piano :') the law may not have recognised them but fuck the law in a lawless world, be happy

The same meal as the first one they had together 😭 the same reaction just toned down my god

My mum already suspected that Bill had spiked the whole bottle, but I was naïve and it shocked me when Bill chugged his own glass and Frank asked - oddly, I agree with Frank, that's the most romantic shit ever

Bill's speech guys come on I'm only a little queer in a big world and these old men have my heart and soul

I love that their bedroom moved from upstairs to downstairs, necessary detail but important regardless

Joel knows the door pin 🙌

Clearly some time has gone since they died cause there's dust everywhere, the flowers are dead and the food is mouldy (I'd guess at least a month, judging off of the visual evidence and also the fact that the radio was blasting 80s when they left Boston)

A part of me is sad Ellie never got to meet Bill and Frank, I bet Frank would have immediately taken a shine to her. They'd have been the slighty psycho gay uncles and aided Ellie in her lesbian ways (ooc? Probably idc)

The fact that it's 'to whomever, but probably Joel', mmmmyeah, not even Tess, no, Joel

A date! August 29th, when did they leave Boston??? (Found out they literally left on the same date what the hell Craig Mazin are you trying to kill me)

The way Ellie reads the laughter caught me off guard and I choked

Bill's letter breaks my heart, truly, so telling of Joel and Bill's character

'use them to keep Tess safe' yeah, it's okay, it's not like my heart was already ripped out anyways

Joel scrunching the letter,,, I get it

"What you say goes." YEAHHH glad they kept that

"Dude." "No." the ongoing gun debate is still funny

Seeing Ellie grab the toilet paper had me flash backing into 2020 *shudders* dark times

Ellie getting excited about a hot shower, immediately saying Joel needs to cause he stinks, mwah

THE SHIRT, IT'S ELLIE'S SHIRT YEAHH GO COSTUME DEPARTMENT

Gun = acquired (and immediately hidden)

"Well don't you look pretty!" "Shut up."

Joel is wearing Frank's shirt 😭

Joel with slicked back wet hair....... Yeah

My girl has no clue how cars work and I love that

Joel likes Linda Ronstadt :')

Close on their open window, with the first song Bill and Frank shared together, yeah I'm fine haha

I think my favourite thing about this episode is that it's the opposite of 'bury your gays'. These gays got to live their lives and grow old together. They got to love, and adore, and enjoy life together for 16 years. 16!! They died on their own terms, having lived happily in relative safety together, and that's fucking beautiful.

What a read, thanks if you made it to the end! this episode grabbed me by the balls and hasn't let go, so i apologise for the severe rambling of this post, like i say, it's just my running thought process. Do you agree with some of my notes, was there anything you noticed that i didn't? Comments and reblogs welcome <3

Episode 1 thoughts:

Episode 2 thoughts:

#tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller #joel the last of us #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #bill and frank my heart is so full for you both #bill the last of us #frank the last of us #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #nick offerman #murray bartlett #episode 3 #episode thoughts #ramblings

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writingmaidenwarrior · 1 year ago

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Sin Eaters Part 4

Without further ado, here we are with the next part.

Warnings for mentions of forced body modifications and mentions of verbal abuse

Tagging @cljordan-imperium

With the training cut extremely short Wynthan wondered if his mother would be at home at all. Usually, she was around the neighborhood and helped the elderly folks with their hair and house chores that early in the day. Talindra next to him couldn’t hide her curiosity of being in the horned one part of the city.

He always loved the colors his kind put everywhere, may it be with fabrics hung up, pictures or even painting the walls. At some point the authorities gave up forbidding it. The smell of the sugary pastry he loved as kid lured him to the baker. It didn’t surprise him much to see Talindra walking faster straight into the direction of the smell. Even with the question of how much of a horned one she was, it was already clear she was less human than she tried to make herself look.

“Damn, that smells fantastic.”

Her nose lifted up into the smell she stood in front of the baker.

“Sugar bathed pastries. They are fried first and then take a swim in sugar syrup. The best thing you ever tasted.”

Wynthan already moved inside as he spoke because he wanted some for himself but now, he knew she would like some as well and his mother surely wouldn’t mind some sweet treat as well.

“Hi Lyndhyrr, how are you doing?”

Lyndhyrr turned around with a surprised face that turned into a big smile.

“Nat! My boy! I saw the ceremony yesterday. You finally made it, didn’t you? But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you train with your human partner?”

“I guess that would be me”, Talindra snickered as she stepped next to him, “Hi, I am Talindra.”

“What a fascinating surprise. It is a rare sight to see the human partners around. Welcome on the hell side, Talindra. I bet the smell of my pastries lured you both in.”

“Guilty as charged. Could you pack some for my mother as well?”

Lyndhyrr started snickering and grabbed the serving tongue.

“I thought this wasn’t just a pleasantry visit. Need a new haircut, boy?”

“Actually, I do. My hair is driving me crazy”, Talindra corrected.

Embarrassed Wynthan let his fingers run through his hair that was almost as long as hers now.

“Yeah, I should get mine cut as well when I am already hear. Who knows when I get the next chance.”

A soft giggle reached his ear, that could only be Talindra, but Wynthan didn’t look.

“Here you go and greet your mother. People like her are what keeps us running.”

“Also, people like you”, Wynthan stated and went to pay but Lyndhyrr shook his head.

“Take it. Your mother helped my sister so much when she had her child last year, we can never repay it.”

“If you ever need something more, you know I might be able to help now.”

“I know boy, now get this fur off your head before you really start looking like a monster.”

The shared laughter even reached Talindra who thankfully could see the humor in the moment. For a second Wynthan worried how she would take the comment but as it appeared it was for nothing.

It took only a few steps away from the bakery until he dug into the bag and handed her the first ring shaped pastry. Curious and greedy Talindra took it. The enjoying sounds she made spoke a language of itself. Smiling he got one for himself and closed the bag again until they reached his mother’s small place.

“You know, I think you got me addicted with these now.”

It was a miracle her words were understandable with her mouth full.

“One thing we have in common. I tried to live off them when I was a teenager, but my mom caught wind of it.”

“What happened?”

“No pastries, sweets or cake for half a year.”

Somehow, he could laugh about it now and what a stupid teenager he was but back then it felt like the cruelest thing in the world. Little did he know how cruel the world could be.

“She knew how to get you.”

“Oh, she does. Worse was the bitter herbal tea I had to drink each morning.”

Talindra made a face and devoured the last bite of pastry.

“She really does, but she was always fair. Once I survived this half year, I got some pastries for my birthday”, he snickered at the memory how slowly he ate it, devouring each bite much like Talindra did right now.

Her silence surprised him. Looking over his shoulder Wynthan saw her gaze trained on him in an analyzing way.

“Something wrong?”

“Your mother was a Sin Eater, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she left them after a bad injury never healed properly. Her leg gives her trouble half the time. All of us are one at some point.”

With a shrug he turned around the corner, expecting the topic to be done but Talindra caught up to him.

“What do you mean, all of you are at some point?”

“Every horned one must be a Sin Eater when they are young. It is our part to be allowed to live in the city. We young ones protect everyone, so the kids and old ones have a place to live. You didn’t know?”

She sucked her upper lip in with a dark look on her face, shaking her head.

“I thought it is voluntary.”

“You have mandatory military service”, he reminded her.

“I think there is a difference between a two-year mandatory military service and a forced life as a Sin Eater”, she replied with an unexpected softness in her voice.

Talindra’s hand sneaked into his and squeezed it gently. He squeezed back with a smile and took a deep breath. It was barely twenty-four hours, and they were already playing a dangerous game with sharing all those stories, even if she didn’t know it yet. On the other side, Wynthan couldn’t bring himself to tell her to be careful with how she acted around him. With another deep breath he concluded it was now or never and pulled her hand up to his chest.

Her confused gaze was accompanied by her breath starting to go faster.

“Don’t get too used to me, little stalker. You feel this?”

The frown said she did feel the scar under his shoulder joint right above his heart.

“What is this? This feels different from a monster scar.”

“They did it to me. They do it to every horned one child after we are born. It’s a small bomb. If we ever act weird, try to rebel or get out of control… boom. Horned one confetti.”

“That is insane.”

Her voice was laden with anger and something else but not the expected disbelief. Slowly Wynthan wondered what she had seen already to not doubt his words to be true and to know the real monsters are their leaders.

“That’s what it is. There are stories of our kind sent off for training and never making it to be a Sin Eater because of some “accidents”, if you catch the drift.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Her gaze got dark and for a moment Wynthan thought her eyes flickered in ember. She was clearly more horned one than she knew, and he could only hope his mother might be able to help Talindra to handle this side before her horns get noticed and things turn difficult.

Wynthan’s thoughts got interrupted by how her gaze suddenly got playful as she looked up from his chest to his face.

“You know there are more like me.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“They don’t know about it. I passed all blood tests as human. We don’t have those surprises in us.”

It took him a moment to understand what she implied but started to smirk as well.

“I think I need to give you a new nickname.”

“You do?”, she teased and stepped back from him with a wink.

“Yes, little stalker is too nice. You are a smart little devil.”

“I got called worse.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Only if you want to end up as bloody confetti.”

He got what she meant and nodded.

“Let’s move. It’s just a few houses down the road.”

“Little devil right behind you”, she snickered.

His groan made it even worse, but Wynthan knew there was no holding back for her now. With a laughing Talindra he knocked on the door of his childhood home. A small smile snuck on his face as he remembered how lucky he was to have his mother around all his childhood, contrary to his friends and neighbors.

“Look, who is in a good mood”, his mother’s voice pulled him out of his musings from somewhere behind him.

Wynthan turned around and found her coming from the small side alley.

“Hey, mom, and yeah, I am in a good mood.”

“And I guess this snickering woman next to you, is your human partner?”

Right at moment Talindra moved two steps in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s me. I am Talindra.”

“Nice to meet you, I am Kimesnin. I see you already found Lyndhyrr.”

Kimesnin smirked with a nod to the bag in Wynthan’s hand.

“I always do, you know.”

“I vividly remember, Nat. Let me get the water started. If you two are up as long as me, you also need something stronger than tea.”

“I would kill for coffee now.”

The approving glance of his mother was enough for Wynthan to know it might not have been the smartest idea to make these two acquainted with each other.

“You aren’t only here to finish off my coffee reserves, are you?”, Kimesnin closed the door with a serious air.

“It all started with Talindra’s desire for shorter hair”, Wynthan started.

He nodded towards Talindra to let her know she can trust his mother. Kimesnin watched their interaction with curiosity. Even with her bad legs causing her to stand with her knees bend she was still almost as tall as him and towered over Talindra by multiple inches.

“Urgh, it won’t change anyway”, Talindra burst out.

“What won’t change?”

“Technically, somehow I am sort of a horned one.”

The fast, mumbled statement made it hard to understand Talindra and Wynthan wasn’t sure if his mother understood what Talindra had said but a split second later she pulled the woman close and gently brushed through the hair.

“Oh dear, why did you do this? This must hurt like fuck.”

“You get used to it”, Talindra laughed nervously, “I had to. I had no horns as baby, only got them around 16, and already witnessed a neighbor kid being shuffled away for having horns suddenly. My aunt showed me how to do it save.”

“There are more like you?”, Kimesnin asked in disbelief.

“Yes, but I don’t know how many.”

Kimesnin rested her forehead on Talindra’s with a smile.

“The Eternals have a wicked sense of humor but you and those like you might be the answer to our cries.”

“What do you mean?”

Wynthan stepped closer, confused by his mother’s actions.

“For centuries we hoped all this isn’t useless, that all this pain has a reason we didn’t understand yet. Talindra might be reason.”

Embarrassed Talindra cleared her throat.

“Aren’t you putting too much hope in me?”

Kimesnin snickered and let go of her, guiding her to the small kitchen table.

“Not you alone, but what you stand for. The leaders overlooked something with this forced mixing of humans and horned ones. Those like you will become more and more. The doctors see you as human, don’t they?”

“They do.”

Wynthan looked at Talindra who seemed to slowly realize something. The moment she started to smile, he understood it as well.

“The humans are already less human than they think”, he stated.

“Even if a baby has no horns, it has our blood, and they will grow up and have children of their own”, Kimesnin confirmed still with a smile on her face, “When all this started centuries ago, it was only us horned ones who went out to fight against the monster. By accident the humans realized they somehow became strong enough to fight the smaller ones, what became the start of the Sin Eaters as we are today.”

“I never heard the story like this. We get taught, that because we learned magic, we went out to fight alongside the horned ones. But thinking it through it makes sense we have magic because of the mixing.”

Wynthan and Kimesnin started laughing at the same time.

“You are one of a kind”, Kimesnin stated with a shaking head.

Then she turned to Wynthan and he already knew by the look on his mother’s face she was about to send him on an errand.

“I guess, you need a haircut as well.”

“Would be great.”

“Why don’t you go over to Anwylln and get some meat. You won’t find the time to come over so easily soon and we should use it.”

A small glimmer of what she was up to rose in him.

“What kind of meat?”

“I think you know.”

Kimesnin winked at him before she went to finally make coffee. Talindra’s gaze went back and forth between them, fully aware she was missing something. Wynthan licked his lips with a broad smile.

“I warn you, Talindra is worse than one of us.”

“We will see.”

#writblr #writing #wynne writes #sin eaters #part 4 #fantasy #adult audience #sin eaters wip

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flowerpotmage · 2 years ago

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i've just caught up on the newest chapter of the ledan and i must say im so pumped to see where you'll take the plot next!! reading about a character from an original location, one with completely different customs to westerosi ones and seeing how they deal with the change in a land far away from home has been a lot of fun. the other characters' varying reactions (lord lannister feeling threatened, the noble ladies' fascination, aemond and cregan's curiosity and respect etc) when faced with someone who doesn't fit into what they consider to be the norm but what is just that for the main character were super entertaining as well and gave an opportunity to delve deeper into the characters in a context not really often discussed in the asoiaf setting. also i can't help but feel like i should be keeping an eye on aegon and lady corbray, they're scheming something hdhdh. im still rooting for aemond x oc but cregan is currently being such a charming and courteous guy (the moment before the white hart inn left me quite literally swooning) that im afraid my heart might become conflicted further down the line. can't wait for the next one 💌

ANOOON I love you for this ask!!!

I'm so so pleased someone is enjoying The Ledan and is enjoying reading about the same parts I'm enjoying writing about!! Especially in regards to having them be from a foreign place and the culture clash potential of Irrasser and Westeros (which I hope to explore more!)

A lot of characters' responses to Ledan Dail are based on my own experiences as someone who is openly transgender in a progressive area. (For anyone new here that hasn't read my about page, I'm nonbinary as fuck) People have an interesting range of reactions, and even when not motivated by more blatant transphobia and hate (which I have miraculously avoided being directed at me in my near five years of being out/transitioning), they're still not always good.

I won't say anything about Aegon or Lady Corbray here bc I wanna let those subplots play out on their own 😉😌

But I will talk about Cregan! He is SO fun to write. I wanted to give Ledan Dail someone else who was functionally an outsider to bond with and since their mother spent her emissary with the Starks, he got to hear all about Irrasser secondhand from his father when he was very young before Rickon died and all the shit happened with his uncle Bennard (I'm trying to keep his backstory as canon as possible). Lady Dail also gifted the Starks at Winterfell with books, including a copy of her own studies she did during her emissary (I haven't talked too much about the details of the Irrasser ruler emissary and its purpose and what they DO, but I can go more in depth about that in a separate post if enough folks are curious) as well as a smaller volume detailing her home as a gift of friendship to Rickon. So in my story Cregan has for sure read that and is familiar with the concept of a ledan, making him the ideal ally to welcome our Ledan Dail to King's Landing

Plus he's just such a gentleman it's wonderful 🥰 their dynamic practically writes itself!

Thank you so much for this ask!! You have no idea how validating this was as a writer and was so lovely to wake up to 💞

#answered asks #fic: the ledan

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sasquapossum · 2 years ago

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Kind of a weird question, but what is it like as a parent when your kid moves out for college? I know what it felt like to me as the kid, but I’m curious about the other side

I don't think it's a weird question at all. In fact I think it's an excellent question, and I thank you for it. I'm still working through it, so here goes.

Part of me is devastated. There, I said it. I don't think we're supposed to, but I'm also sure that I'm far from the only parent ever to feel this way. I've spent nineteen years - since before she was born - trying to make sure she'd be healthy and happy. That's longer than the entire time I was in school, including college, myself. That's far longer than any job I've ever had. Longer than anything except my marriage (and I'll touch on that in a moment). Being a parent of a still-at-home child has been part of my identity for a long time. Even if I wanted to, it would be hard to give that up.

On top of that, there's this feeling of ... helplessness. I know that everything's up to her now, and it must be up to her, and even that she must be allowed to stumble from time to time. I believe that very strongly. I wouldn't be who I am, where I am, if I had been coddled as I see some parents do with their children. I'll always have her back, but it is her back. She leads. As necessary as it is, it's hard to get used to this feeling of reduced agency.

And lastly, I no longer get to see my best friend every day. There's another thing I'm probably not supposed to say, but it's true. My wife is also my best friend in a different way, because those relationships are separate and distinct. They do not compete with one another. As the metaphor goes, whenever you love someone you have to build a new room for them but the old room will still be there (even if it’s empty). When you have a spouse and a child, you have two rooms. Another child, three. (I suppose, anyway, and likewise for another spouse, but I don’t have personal experience of those situations.) My daughter and I are still very much in contact when we want to be, but it's not the same as hearing her (and her boyfriend who I've also "lost") right across the upstairs hallway, or in the car with me, and so on. Especially since she was our only child, and also since I'm retired, this house seems way too empty and quiet now. Not enough people right there to appreciate my memes and jokes and random observations. That part's also hard.

As another famous saying goes, everything before the "but" is bullshit. I put these paragraphs in this order with that in mind. I miss her but I'm also amazingly proud of her, and glad that she seems to be doing well so far, and excited to see what the future brings for her. I feel that just as much as the sad parts. I have less to say about it only because the future is less knowable than the present. I can already see how I might come to welcome the quiet, and the reduced workload, and the freedom that comes from not having to be The Provider. I already went on one mid-week hike, which I could not have done otherwise. This winter I'll probably snowboard more. Maybe I'll travel more. Meanwhile she'll be growing and thriving in her own ways. Some day the joy on both sides will be more present, but right now it's more future and thus more attenuated.

Transitions can be hard no matter where they lead. You can get the job of your dreams, and still have a rough first day. You can marry the person of your dreams, and still get the wedding jitters. You can see your little bird start to soar, and still feel the emptiness of the nest. I think a lot of parents struggle with that. The admissions folks, who have seen this play out more times than any of us, have made it clear that their mission to support students during this time often requires supporting parents as well.

In conclusion, at this point it's still a bit of a waiting game. Trying to strike that balance of being available without being in the way. Mostly that means doing my own things, like running and making resin things and posting here, while I wait for the next bit of news, for the next part of the new pattern to emerge. Fortunately I'm pretty good at waiting. It'll be interesting a year from now, to read this myself and see how things have changed. Thanks for the question.

#long post #parenting #college

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙴𝚡𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) × 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏! 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚄, 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙾𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟻.𝟹+𝙺

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙 (𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜), 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚎𝚡𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗) 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘, 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @brie02 @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki @deja-vux @a-soft-hornytiny @daniblogs164

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"Anything else we can get for our most valued regulars?"

The two men waved their hands dismissively at the friendly and energetic owner of the establishment, thanking her for the drinks that were already provided while assuring her they were perfectly content.

"Well if you shall need anything don't hesitate to ask." She reminded them before walking away to attend the other customers and see that everything in the club was running smoothly.

The two men held up their drinks and clinked them against each other before downing them as if it was mere water. Slumping back into the comfortable french style chaise lounge sofa, the shorter mafioso let out a soft and relaxed exhale of breath.

"Well I'd say the whole operation was an absolute success. Don't you agree Yunho?" He tilted his head towards the more impotent one of them, the male swirling the contents of his newly poured drink around his glass cup.

"Indeed. Well done Wooyoung." He raised his glass towards his friend in acknowledgement before bringing the rim of the cup up to his lips.

The two men briefly scanned the spacious hall, occasionally waving or even winking at the more familiar faces that they had become very much acquainted with, sometimes even on a more intimate level that remained a naughty secret between them. Being admirers of beauty and anything aesthetically appealing, they of course had their gazes on the stage that encompassed the majority of the room. Their eyes never failed to take in the gorgeous dancers that were currently moving their bodies to the music playing in the background, some of them showcasing their more erotic side through spins and turns on some of the poles that were placed at various corners of the stage. That sight was always a welcoming one by all the men who went inside the high class club.

"Damn. Who is that?" Wooyoung pointed in the direction of a certain dancer who had caught his attention.

Following his finger, Yunho widened his eyes when he saw who it was that Wooyoung had spotted. She was indeed very captivating. Her movements were very sensual and completely fluid, it was more than obvious her technique was precise. Even her hair seemed to dance along with her body. She'd effortlessly spin around the metal pole as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. Although she was placed towards the back, she seemed to dominate the stage alone with her presence. She just exuded charisma and eroticism that no doubt had many of the males growing a little problem in their pants thanks to her, Wooyoung and Yunho being no exception. They became lost in the beautiful and fascinating female, falling her charms as if her dance hypnotized them.

It was Yunho who snapped himself out of it when he took a closer look at her face and felt like something was off.

"How old is she? She looks a little... too young." Despite having been involved in the criminal world for years, having seen and committed many illegal acts, Yunho was not tolerant of anything that involved the exploitation of individuals who were too young for such a life.

Realizing he was right, Wooyoung shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. Calling over one of the male waiters, Yunho had to inquire about her.

"What can you tell me about the pretty face right over there?"

Seeing who he was referring to, the male server chuckled.

"Oh. That's Y/N. She's new here, started a few weeks ago but she's already conquered a lot of admirers as you can tell."

Indeed, as they looked around, most men had their eyes trained on her, no doubt imagining what she'd look like if you removed the lace bustier top and butt hugging leather shorts.

"How old is she?" Yunho got to the point.

Understanding what he meant, the server quickly dismissed his fears.

"I don't know exactly but I know for sure she's very much an adult. I'd say very early 20's, although I get that with that innocent looking baby face many wouldn't believe it. Folks seem to dig that though. Angelic face, sinful body? No wonder men are lusting over her."

Glancing over at their respective friend, the two men shared a small smirk between each other before settling back down to continue admiring the pretty girl.

"If you bosses would like, we could arrange a private show with her for you." The male staff offered but Wooyoung shook his head.

"No no, I don't think that will be necessary."

But he found that his resolve would soon come crumbling down when the young female took notice of their gawking towards her. Although she had never seen them before, she enjoyed the way their eyes were raking her body. She made sure not to break eye contact with them as she performed her next set of moves, which became a lot more sultry and risque in nature. She purposefully bent down or over more so her ass and tits would be the main focus of their staring.

"Fuck. I'd love to bend that ass over my lap." Yunho bit down on his bottom lip as one hand slowly rubbed the top of his thigh when she sent a flirtatious wink his way.

"Then why don't we make it come true?"

Calling for the male staff's attention once more, Wooyoung pulled out a large bill and placed it on the empty tray he was holding.

"I think we're going to take you on that offer, that is if the lady doesn't mind."

The staff couldn't help but snort.

"Trust me, I don't think she would mind one bit."

Ushering them to follow him, the male staff led them through the crowd of people that were gathered at the main showroom and down one of the hallways. Wooyoung and Yunho were surprised when instead of taking them to the upstairs private rooms, their guide instead took them down stairs.

"We don't actually tell most people this but our best and most expensive private rooms are actually down here and not upstairs. We only reserve them for V.I.P guests. And there's a bonus.."

The male staff typed in a code into the keypad that kept the entrance to the room locked and opened it up for them to let themselves in.

"There's absolutely no cameras, no rules, and you don't have to worry about anyone hearing anything." The man slyly told them as he walked off and told them to enjoy themselves.

Looking around, indeed the room was even better than the upper ones they had often rented. Not only was it bigger, it had a full bar for them to enjoy, there were multiple couches and they even mounted a pole in the middle of the room. Lilac curtains were strategically placed around to decorate the room which looked marvelous against the blue LED lights that illuminated several parts of the room so everything inside would be clearly visible. They could even make out a faint scent of lavender and vanilla, no doubt infused with pheromones to further enhance sexual arousal.

"No rules he said.... perfect." Wooyoung grinned as he made himself comfortable on one of the couches.

"Just because there are no cameras doesn't mean you can behave as you like. Remember that she'll probably only be here to dance for us and nothing else." Yunho reminded him.

"Relax old man, you know I would never touch a woman without her consent. Lucky me, I'm still handsome .... and rich." Wooyoung laughed slightly as he pulled out a bundle of money from his pocket causing his friend to roll his eyes.

"And what makes you think that is going to entice the young lady to suck your dick? If anything, she'll prefer someone younger and not some... geezer." He poked fun at his friend who looked at him with an unamused face.

"Look who's talking boomer." He scoffed at him.

Both of the men put an end to their small bantering when the door suddenly opened and in came none other than the very object of their fantasies, her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floor. She eyed them up and down with a curious expression, the corners of her mouth curling up just subtly.

"Hello there beautiful." Wooyoung leaned back and took in her figure.

"Good evening gentlemen." She greeted them as she shifted her weight from leg to the other one, her hands placed on her hips respectively.

"Y/N is it?" Yunho inquired as he tried to keep a little more decorum and tried not to stare too much at her.

"Unless you'd prefer to call me something else." She grinned at them with a smoldering expression.

"I'd love to call you mine." Wooyoung put his thoughts out there for the other two occupants in the room to hear, shocking and embarrassing one while the other seemed delighted to hear him say that.

"Wooyoung! Control yourself." Yunho nudged him with his elbow, warning him not to try anything stupid or foolish.

"And tell me then handsome, just how do you want me?"

Both men whipped their heads at her question, wondering if they heard her right.

"Umm- excuse me?" Yunho wanted her to clarify what she meant.

The young dancer took slow and careful steps closer to them, beginning to round the table that stood in between her and the couch they were seated in.

"On my knees, on all fours, against the wall, or laying down, just tell me what position you want me in." She was completely unafraid as she now carefully sat on the table right in front of them, spreading her legs just a little bit, daring them not to gaze in between them which they both ultimately failed in doing.

She was driving them crazy, making them lose every last bit of self control they had. And the way she'd innocently bat her eyelashes at them was not helping their case, it only served to fuel their growing lust for her even more. Wooyoung was about to speak up, but Yunho of course stopped him.

"No-no honey. We just wanted you to keep us some company." He wanted to slap himself for sounding so old fashioned.

Y/N tilted her head at his explanation.

"Keep you company? You mean like this?"

Not expecting her to get up and suddenly straddle his lap, Yunho's eyes shot wide open when her chest was practically pressing against his face. Y/N gently caressed the hair around his temples, not so subtly grinding herself on his tent that was hardening even further. His friend next to him was equally surprised and jealous that it wasn't his lap that the young lady chose to situate herself on.

"Is this what you wanted?"

When Yunho shifted under her and stammered out an incoherent babble of words, Y/N took hold of his hands and placed them on her hips.

"It's ok baby. You can touch me if you want. I don't mind." She encouraged him with a sweet smile on her face.

"I'm not sure I want to..." As soon as he said that, he regretted his words especially after seeing the disheartened look on Y/N's pretty face.

"Well I know for a fact I do so give her to me if you don't want her."

She let out a squeal when she was suddenly pulled of Yunho's lap and instead perched upon one of Wooyoung's strong and muscular thighs. He couldn't stop smiling as his hands rubbed against the sides of her waist.

"So tell me what's a gorgeous and young lady such as yourself doing in a place like this?" He was genuinely curious as to why someone like her would seek out work as an exotic dancer.

"Well it definitely brings in a lot of money, but I'm not going to deny that I do enjoy the attention and stares of some of the patrons like to give me." She answered, her hand reaching over to loosen up the tie around his neck.

"Oh, so you like being a little exhibitionist?" Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"God yes! But my ex boyfriend wasn't a fan of my occupation, hence why he left." She let out a tiny huff at the information.

"Well if you ask him he's an idiot for that. I know if I had a sexy girl like you, I wouldn't mind showing her off a little. Let others admire her like the goddess she is."

As he said those words to her, Wooyoung's fingers slowly peeled the straps of her top off her shoulders, his tips tracing along the outline of her collarbone. Y/N didn't budge when she felt Wooyoung's lips kiss across her shoulder and the side of her neck, she merely tilted her head to the opposite side so it would give him more access to suckle along her smooth skin. Yunho watched all of this with an aching hard on and clenched fist as he realized it could have been him in Wooyoung's position at that moment.

"Truthfully I don't miss him, he was very controlling anyways, but I gotta say...." She bit down on her lip, a bit unsure about continuing her sentence.

"It's ok baby. You can tell us anything you want." Wooyoung assured her as his teeth tugged at her earlobe.

Sucking in a breath she didn't know she was holding, Y/N spilled her secret out.

"I've just been a lot more horny ever since I started this job and I don't have anyone to fuck me like a slut. God I just want a big, fat cock to tear my pussy apart."

Both men looked at each other and exchanged a few suspicious glances before returning their attention back on the girl on Wooyoung's lap.

"Are you horny right now darling?" He asked her as his hand came to the front of her top and started undoing the buttons that ran through the middle.

"If I say yes, will one of you fuck me?" She turned her head to look at Yunho, not wanting him to feel left out. Her hand even reached over so it could brush along the tent in his pants, which he welcomed graciously and even allowed her to palm his hard on as she pleased.

"Oh honey, if you want, we'll both fuck you." Yunho finally spoke up after a long time of staying silent, scooting his body closer to her.

"Please do." She begged them, eyes looking like a pitiful little pup.

Undoing the last button, Wooyoung peeled the top off her, both men releasing groans when her breasts came into view. They looked so soft and smooth and it took everything in them not to take one in each of their mouths and devour them. Getting off of Wooyoung's thigh so she could sit right in between both men, Y/N took one of their hands and set them right on her mounds.

"Touch me, please. I want your guys' hands all over me."

Each one of the men began to squeeze at her tits, Wooyoung opting for a more rough approach, even pinching at her nipples, while Yunho took his time in massaging her flesh, thumb rubbing circles on her hardened peak. Y/N was already loving the two opposite dynamics both men were giving her, it was exactly what she'd been craving in a long time. She threw her head back when Wooyoung stooped down to take the breast he was currently toying with into his mouth, teeth tugging at her tiny bud. She was releasing heavy breaths as he continued to suck at her tender skin, eyes closing as she began to get lost in the pleasure. She nearly whined when she felt Yunho take his hand off her breast, but it was caught in his mouth since he moved his hand from her chest so it could cup her chin. Tilting it towards him, he began to kiss her hungrily. She gratefully welcomed the intrusion of his tongue in her mouth, letting it slither inside of it, taking complete control of her.

Taking advantage of his friend moving his hand away, Wooyoung moved so he was sitting right in front of her. Y/N pryed her legs open so he could be easily accommodated between her body. He moved his mouth to latch onto her other breast, giving it the special attention its twin had already received. He became a little harsher as he began to plaster marks on the underside of her boob and on the top of them. Each time he sank his canines down onto her skin, Y/N would emit a semi pained whimper that was muffled by Yunho's tongue as it swirled against her own wet muscle. Moving further south, Wooyoung began dragging his tongue down her sternum until it reached her belly button. Coming face to face with her leather shorts, Wooyoung grabbed the sides of the fabric before swiftly pulling it down her legs. Y/N shuddered when a small waft of cool air breezed over her wet heat.

"Fucking hell, what a nice and wet pussy you have little lady." Wooyoung stared in amazing at her shining folds that were inviting him to dive in and feast upon their sweet juices.

Pulling away so he could glimpse down at the lady's intimate place, Yunho moaned deeply when he saw what his friend was looking at.

"Fuck we've barely done anything and you're already this wet for us? You flatter us baby." He chuckled as he went back in to continue their makeout session.

Wooyoung's fingers slid around her folds, teasing her as they grazed over her slit, always stopping before they touched her clit. Y/N was yearning to be touched and she did not appreciate the older man's teasing. Yunho of course noticed since her needy whining was being spilled into his mouth.

"Is that a promise?" Wooyoung challenged.

"Wooyoung stop making her wait and eat her out before I shove you to the ground and I finger her cunt until she's squirting all over your face." He warned in between kisses.

Pulling back with a snarl, Yunho stared menacingly at his friend.

"Fucking eat her pussy or I'll get my men to hold you down and make you watch as I fuck her."

Shrugging off Yunho's threat, Wooyoung latched his mouth onto the young female's mound and started fucking it with his tongue. Y/N couldn't help but gasp as Wooyoung's skillful and experienced tongue swirled and sucked along her folds. He made sure to focus most of his attention on her clit, nibbling down on it while making sure he didn't accidentally grazed his teeth onto them.

"You like the way Wooyoung is eating you out baby?" Yunho asked as his large hands cupped your breasts once more, squishing them together as his thumbs toyed with your nipples.

"Yes! Shit! He's amazing!" She gasped out when he gave her a particularly long suck to thank her for her praises, a cocky grin forming.

"Heard that Woo? The little lady is enjoying it." Yunho gushed as he brought one breast up to place kisses on it.

Wooyoung responded with a moan against her pussy, his hands spreading her legs as far as they could go so he could lap reach every inch of flesh with his tongue. He left no place untouched as he practically smothered his face into her juicy core. Y/N's body started to tremble as she felt herself being thrown over the precipice. Yunho kept holding onto her as she began cumming on Wooyoung's face.

"Fuck- oh shit!" She cursed with scrunched eyes as an intense orgasm took over her senses.

Wooyoung didn't detach his mouth from her core until he made certain that she had released all the juices she possibly could, which ultimately ended up swallowed by him since he could not leave a drop to waste. When Y/N came to her senses, she still felt as if she was in a permanent high.

"I've never came from someone eating my pussy out. That was the first time anyone has made me orgasm from one." She admitted rather shyly.

"That's probably because you've only had amateur assholes perform oral on you honey. I've got years of experience. I know what a girl wants when she's getting her sweet pussy eaten out." Wooyoung boasted as he sat down next to her.

"Well I think it's only fair I show my gratitude to you both right?"

Sliding off the couch, Y/N got on her knees and beckoned the men to stand at each of her sides. Lifting her hands up, she began to palm their clothed cocks. She could only imagine how big they were since they already felt pretty packed even in their confinement. Although it was a little hard doing it with one hand, she managed to unzip both of their pants and slowly dragged them down their thighs until she was blessed by the sight of their mature cocks springing forward, fully erect and waiting for her to touch them. Her mouth was agape as she took one in each hand and began pumping them.

"God you're both so big."

Both men let out small laughs at her reaction.

"What? Never seen cocks like ours before baby?" Wooyoung asked.

"Not in person and I've always wanted to be fucked by sizes like yours."

Her hand continued to stroke their lengths. She even went as far as to spit on both of them so it would be easier to glide her hand along their shaft. Although Yunho was definitely the bigger of the two, packing a monster sized cock, Wooyoung was also pretty endowed and she had no doubt that with his cocky attitude he definitely knew how to use his dick in the best way possible. She couldn't help herself and actually brought both of their tips to her mouth. Her tongue alternated between licking Wooyoung's head before giving attention to Yunho's, both of them hissing when they felt her tongue on them. Y/N did not shy away from even slurping one both of them at the same time, opening her mouth as much as it could to fit their heads inside and sucking them in.

"Oh shit! You're such a dirty little girl." Yunho muttered out as his hand came down to pet the top of her head.

"Tell me are you always such a whore for your other customers?" Wooyoung's tone had a slight hint of jealousy at the thought of someone else getting the special treatment they were getting.

"Hmmm no. None of the other people have ever interested me. You guys are the first that made me wanna get a little naughty." She confessed with an innocent smile before taking each of their balls and giving them a few harsh sucks, coating them generously with her saliva. Although it was more than arousing having their young companion jerk them off simultaneously, even giving their slits a couple licks every now and then, the men knew they wanted a little more. They wanted to corrupt the woman in front of them and make a mess all over her.

"You wanna get even more naughty baby?" Yunho's voice dropped down 2 tones as he began taking his shirt off, Wooyoung following suit.

"Yes." She looked between one of the men and then to the other, nearly drooling when she saw their fit abs come into her view.

Lifting her up, Yunho effortlessly sat her back down on the couch.

"Want us to fuck you?" He continued to ask as he and his friend finished stripping themselves out of their clothes.

"Yes! Please fuck me." She encouraged, beckoning them over as she got on all fours for them.

"Well I don't know about you, but I really wanna see what that pretty mouth of hers does, especially after getting a sneak peak." Stepping over to her face, Wooyoung rubbed the tip of his cock along the top of her lip.

Y/N giggled as she took Wooyoung's length in one of her hands once more, pressing kisses along his head. She was so distracted in playing around and teasing Wooyoung that she didn't notice Yunho had placed himself right behind until she felt his bulge rubbing along her ass cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind sweetheart, but I wasn't expecting to get so lucky to be able to fuck a pretty girl such as yourself tonight so I'm afraid I brought no condoms...."

Y/N gasped when she felt a long finger insert itself into her ass.

"So I'm going to have to settle for fucking this other hole of yours." He circled his finger around her hole to further stretch her out, eventually adding a second finger inside her.

"If that's all right with you of course."

Y/N responded with a moan and pushed her butt further back so his fingers could sink deeper in her.

"I'd say it's more than ok with her. Look at how desperate she looks." Wooyoung lightly giggled, tapping the head of his cock against both of her cheeks.

"Open up."

Following his orders, Y/N allowed him to slip himself into her warm and wet mouth, unable to help but groan when he pushed half of his length in.

"What's wrong baby? Can't fit all of me inside?"

Taking it as a challenge, Y/N hollowed her cheeks even further and pushed herself forward until her nose pressed against his pubic bone. Although she choked slightly when she felt him hit the back of her throat, she was still able to swirl her tongue around him and properly accommodate him.

"For someone so young, you sure do seem to have a lot of experience." Wooyoung pointed out as his hands gently caressed her stuffed cheeks.

"That's cause she's nothing but a whore."

Y/N clenched around nothing as she heard Yunho's degradation, humming against Wooyoung's length as she felt his long fingers collect some of her slick and used it as a makeshift lube to spread around her asshole. Making sure she was all prepped and properly stretched out, Yunho took his sizeable dick and very slowly pushed himself into her ass, wanting to savor how her tightness hugged every inch of him. His head was thrown back when he stuffed her ass full of his cock, nails digging into her cheeks as he held back the urge to ram himself brutally and tear her ass up. When he did not move for a few seconds, Y/N grew impatient and pulled herself off him only to stuff him back inside.

"Don't make our pretty baby wait by being gentle Yunho. Can't you see she's desperate to have you break her apart?" Wooyoung smirked as pulled out of her mouth only to force himself back in, holding her head in place before releasing her. Y/N gagged around his cock, a tiny slick of drool falling out of the corners of her mouth.

"Is that what you want? Want us to be rough with you?"

Yunho got a response in the form of a moan around Wooyoung's dick and a tightening around his own cock .

"Ok shit! Yunho you better start fucking her cause I can't hold back anymore."

Not caring to wait and see if his friend would follow his instructions, Wooyoung gripped the back of Y/N's head and started bucking his hips into her mouth. Garbled noises that were muffled by Wooyoung's intrusion were spilling forth out of her, which were further intensified in range when the male behind her likewise started moving.

"Oh shit! You're so tight, you feel amazing little lady." Yunho praised as he slammed his hips onto her ass, watching it smack against his skin and wiggle every time he pounded back into her.

Y/N whimpered when one of Yunho's hands snaked in between her thighs and began to rub circles around her clit, further boosting the feeling they were giving her. With one of them fucking her face and the other one ramming into her ass, she felt so full and stuffed to the brim and she absolutely loved it.

"You enjoying this honey? Are you enjoying as two older men use you as their fuck toy?" Wooyoung's question was met by a loud vibration of her whimpers around him, his cock twitching at the feeling.

"Of course she's enjoying it. She loves getting used and treated as nothing more than a cum bucket." Yunho groaned in a raspy voice. His fingers which were moving earnestly around her bundle of nerves moved to strike them, making their recipient shudder when more stinging slaps were placed on her mound.

Tears of pleasure were rolling down Y/N's eyes as she was being fucked past her limit by the older and dangerous criminals. Never in her life did she actually believe such men like them would fulfill one of her deepest fantasies, yet here she was, gurgling and swallowing around one huge dick while her ass was getting torn apart by an even bigger cock. Not to mention Yunho was making sure she'd be tipped over the edge again as he worked his fingers on her clit, alternating between rubbing harshly against it before slapping it once more. During one of these hard smacks, she began crying out as her body began spasming and bursting out in pleasure, her juices spilling out of her.

"Oh fuck! She's cumming already." Wooyoung's words were becoming more slurred as he felt his own high fast approaching.

"I know. I'm gonna cum-" Yunho grunted as he plunged himself faster in her, his low and deep moans mixing with Wooyoung's higher pitched ones as both men used their pretty dirty dancer to push themselves over the edge, their relentless pace only helping to elongate the orgasm the girl under them was having.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Pulling out with a hiss, Yunho wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped himself furiously until white spurts of cum were being plastered all over her ass cheeks. He didn't stop until he made sure to paint her butt with all the cum he had to give.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung held her head in place as he fucked his own cum down her throat.

"Swallow it all you dirty whore. I don't want you spilling out a single drop. Got it?" He ordered as he spilled his seed into her mouth, which Y/N promptly swallowed as he said to. She kept eye contact throughout the entire process of having him rut his hips against her face, his mouth agape and blurting out swear after swear as he emptied himself in her mouth.

A popping sound was made when he pulled out of her, saliva plastered all over her lips which were red and swollen after the rough treatment they were put through. Both men slumped down on the couch to catch their breath and collect their senses. Yunho was the first one to gain his energy back and began to look for something to clean up, luckily finding a few hand towels near the mini bar. Coming back over where the other two occupants were, he began wiping off the leftover cum on Y/N's ass.

"You doing ok babe?" Yunho wanted to make sure.

"I'm doing wonderful, thank you." She giggled when Yunho pressed a light slap on her ass at her response.

After making sure to clean up properly, Yunho and Wooyoung gathered their clothes and began dressing themselves again while the exotic dancer simply sat there and watched them, lip poked out in a pensive thought.

"Will I see you guys some other night?"

Yunho and Wooyoung looked back and forth between each other and at her.

"Do you wanna see us again?" Wooyoung asked, his hopes getting up.

Y/N smiled at him.

"Of course I do. Just be sure to bring condoms next time. I'd really love to feel you both destroy my pussy next time."

The men chuckled at her bold words.

"Oh baby, it'll be our pleasure."

♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡

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court-of-forever-undone · 3 years ago

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I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary: While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence.

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude.

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

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Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces

If anyone else would like to join the list, let me know!

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

Text

Golden (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: you are in a relationship with kakaski, but after an accident, you have amnesia, and can’t remember him anymore. angst baby. Very feminine Civilian!reader (you own a bookstore, so cliche lmao) essentially, this series is mindless romantic indulgences i wrote mostly for myself, but if other people can enjoy them then i did my job as a fanfic writer.

A/N: im definitely not writing a fanfic for every song on fine line...haha

Word count: 5600

_____

He lay awake at night after the incident, imagining the moment he truly knew he was in love with her. Completely infatuated with this beautiful woman working at the bookstore. It was the only thing he could do now that his entire world had come crashing around him. With everything that happened in the hospital, this was the only way he knew how to cope.

He drifted off into the dream once again.

Kakashi stood by the front gates of the village, a paperback book he had just bought in his hand, folded over so he could read with one hand. One more time before he left for this mission, one he knew would last longer than anyone would like, he visited the old bookstore in town. He wanted to think he just stopped by to stock up on reading material, but that wasn’t it.

It was always about her.

When he saw Y/N running up to him, her apron nearly falling off and her hair in disarray, his eyes widened and he set the book down by his side. She was out of breath when she got to him, pressing her hands to her chest to get herself put together. Her brows furrowed deeply as she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Kakashi,” she exclaimed.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I know you’re going on this long mission and you won’t be around for a few months, and I can’t stand the thought of you leaving without me telling you this,” she said, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t insanely curious what she had to say. She was a sweet village girl, and he frequented her store, quite a bit actually. On occasion, he would drop by a few times in a day just to say hello. He definitely wasn’t slick.

He waited for her to continue and she didn’t hesitate. “Every time you leave, I get this pain in my chest. I worry about you day and night because I know the life of a shinobi is never guaranteed. I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you this time, if I kept acting like the coward I am.”

“I see? Well, what’s on your mind?”

“I-I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, and I don’t know how to deal with it, so here goes,” she told him, taking a deep breath before her next words, “I think I’m in love with you, Kakashi Hatake. I think I’ve loved you since the first time you stepped foot in my parents store.”

“I…”

What was he supposed to say to that?

“You don’t have to say anything back. It doesn’t bother me, I know how closed off you ninja are. Just please, take my words and hold them close on your journeys.” She paused, clenching her soft fists by her sides. She wasn’t scared of rejection, not at all. She was only scared that Kakashi might not care about her words at all. “Please, don’t forget someone loves you.”

In that moment, he felt his heart stop beating, only for a second, but he felt it. Shifted awkwardly, not wanting to let off that he was getting even a little emotional at her declaration. He was tough as nails, the copy-nin. Not some lover boy, even if he wanted to be. Even if he wanted to swoop in right then and kiss her to pieces.

All he could say was, “I’ll keep that in my mind. Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t fool around out there so you can come back to me in one piece!” she laughed, feeling tears bubbling up in the corners of her eyes.

He found himself smiling back at the young woman. “You got it.”

__________

Kakashi was never really one to express his feelings. Generally, he kept them inside to mourn alone. It was just in his nature, it was nothing personal with the people he knew and trusted. There was just something about Y/N that made him drop down some of those thick barriers.

His girlfriend was a normal woman, working long shifts in the village bookstore since she was a teenager. She never attended the academy, wasn't chakra sensitive, nothing in particular was so outstanding that she was noticed. Nothing on the surface, actually.

It was her smile and her laugh, the way she could make anyone feel like they were important and wanted, that attracted Kakashi to her in the first place. From the first time they met as teenagers in the bookstore aisles, he knew he was caught in some sort of trap. For a minute, he compared the feeling to that of a genjutsu, even though he knew that was far from a possibility.

To him, when she smiled, it felt as if everything was going to be okay. All the pain and suffering disappeared when she was around. He really couldn’t understand how that could be happening, with the world crumbling around him everyday.

That was a particularly rare attribute among ninja folk, whose lives led them to believe that happiness wasn’t achievable and death was common; pain was so normal for him. It was refreshing to have someone around who didn't think like that, that could change the tone of a room in a moment with just an ounce of positive energy. Y/N was innocent to the majority of these harsh realities that the ninja faced, for the most part.

As with most people in the village, her parents lost their lives during the invasion of the nine tails. She was alone for a long time, but despite that, she tried to find joys in reading, in stacking new books on shelves, in talking to unique individuals that would stop by. And as she aged, she realized her most favorite customer was one with a masked face, and a love of gushy, perverted novels.

She was even friends with some of his closest friends, Gai, Yamato, Sakura. She reached out to them, getting visits here and there while she worked during the day. After he informed his closest companions of his blossoming affair with the bookstore girl, they just had to get in an insider view. They kept visiting after the first meetings. Sakura bringing lunch, Yamato helping her with repairs, and Gai just bringing his brightest smile and a boatload of jokes and giggles to share at the front counter.

It was only a matter of time before they fell into some weird friendship, a civilian and one of the top shinobi of their village. He was gone half the time on missions, and sometimes, when he was ANBU, she wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. Occasionally, when a mission was long and difficult, she would hear pawing at her window late into the night. When she pulled back the blinds, a small dog would be sitting there with a folded piece of paper in his mouth, waiting for her to take it.

She loved those letters, they became her prized possessions. There was nothing else she loved more in the world than seeing his kind words written out on paper, his declarations of love that he would never dare say aloud. To him, it was easier to say those things on paper, to not be around when she read about his feelings for her. He was still attentive and kind to her in person, but the letters spoke with a romanticism that he couldn’t.

Y/N practically glowed when she spoke to him, so in love with him she could barely keep it restrained. He knew this. He knew she was as deeply in love with him as he was entranced with her. It had been 5 years since they started dating, and he prolonged the inevitable path of marriage as long as he could. Having a girlfriend was one thing, but marrying someone felt like a burden he couldn’t shoulder. He wanted to, but it just seemed like too much work, too much risk.

After years, he realized the waiting just wasn’t worth it. They were only getting older as the time went by. She just warmed his empty heart, he knew that was something only she could do for him. He needed that.

And that's why he sat in the comfort of Ichiraku, Sakura by his side, sipping on some soup. She was the only one he truly trusted with this knowledge, the only one who could give him genuine advice. He just needed to tell someone what he was about to do. He sat there, his fingers hovering over his pants pocket, eyes trailed down at the table.

"What did you want to talk about, Sensei?" She had asked.

"You really like Y/N, right? Think she's good for me?"

She smiled with a small nod. "Of course. Y/N is so sweet. She makes you so happy I can tell. I think it's really good for you." It was true. Sakura didn’t know what her sensei was like before he met the woman. That was years ago before she was even born. What she did know is that someone with that much pain seeping from his heart could use some love in his life, a stable shoulder to lean onto. If anyone was stable, it was her. Without any cares in the world other than worrying for her boyfriend and keeping her business afloat. Her trauma was behind her, unlike some of the shinobi that carry those with them for the rest of their lives. Guilt, anger, resentment.

He pulled a tiny, drawstring bag from his pocket and fiddled with the strings between his fingers. "When I was in the Land of Fire last month, I picked this up from a merchant," he explained, pulling open the bag and pouring out the contents. A small ring clicked against the bar table. "Take a look, tell me what you think."

She dropped her spoon and reached over for the ring, holding it gently with the pads of her fingertips. It was beautiful. It sparkled like sunlight hitting clear blue waters. A stone rested in the center, flecks of lavender and blue floating in the sparkly gem. When she turned it in the sunlight, more colors appeared and changed, morphing into something spectacular in every sense of the word.

"Kakashi-sensei, it's gorgeous. Are you going to give this to Y/N?"

"After all this time, it seems inevitable really. Time flies."

"Oh my gosh. I'm so happy for you. She's going to be ecstatic, I just know it. She loves you more than life itself." He liked hearing that reaffirmed for him, even though Y/N frequently told him how she felt, daily ‘I love you’s. Unlike him, those words were not rare, but each time it filled his chest with warmth.

He smiled fondly, watching as she continued to turn to ring in her hands. He never thought this would happen to him: marrying someone. He didn't want to lose anyone else. He didn't want to put that risk on someone, especially Y/N. He had suppressed his feelings for her for a few years before he finally succumbed to the urge to tell her. Finally, after years of longing and avoiding the obvious, she became his, and he was undoubtedly hers.

It was a hard decision. He knew it was wrong to risk it, put her life on the line, but now he felt ridiculous sulking around waiting for something that was never going to happen. Nothing had happened to Y/N yet, and it had been years. She was gonna be fine. He was only being paranoid, he had convinced himself.

"Tonight. I'm going to help her close the store and do it then."

"You're a good man, Kakashi. She’s so lucky to have you protecting her and watching out for her, ya know? You two balance each other out perfectly,” the girl sighed. If only she could find a love like her sensei had with his significant other.

"Thanks, Sakura.”

They finished up their conversation, and he paid the bill for her, feeling so high that a bit of money from his wallet didn't even bother him. It was slightly later than he was supposed to go see her. The bookstore should have already closed by about 10 minutes.

All he could think about on the way there was how she would laugh about him being late, as usual. She would hug him to say hello, like she usually wound, and then give him a kiss on his masked cheek. He would help her quickly reorganize books before pulling out the ring. To him, it wasn't really about her saying yes at all so much as this moment, proposing to the love of his life, meant he could leave his curse behind and be happy for once with someone he cared about. She was his savior, an escape from a mindset so ingrained he couldn't fight it on his own.

But when he walked up to the front of the store. He noticed the lights still on even though she would have shut them off by now. The sign out front still flipped to open. He didn’t think it was too weird at all, he just thought maybe she was waiting for him to come along to finish up.

As he walked in though, he noticed the whole reams of paper strewn across the floor. Piles of books were aggressively thrown from the shelves, scattered around the floor like someone side swept them from the stands. Ink stained the checkout counter where she normally sat, inkwell tipped over the edge and dripped onto the carpet which she took care to keep clean. It was disastrous getting stains out of that carpet, she always said to him.

Most importantly, on some of the papers scattered around, he spotted blood splatter, drips of half dried blood present all the way from her desk to the back door. He felt panic rise up from his stomach all the way to his throat, and his heart raced. It was rare something made him truly terrified, and this was one of those moments.

He searched, god, he scoured that entire building over and over again for the woman. He checked every aisle and under every table. He ran upstairs to her apartment and checked in the few small rooms she had, scared she was cowering in her bathtub or hiding under the bed. He ran to the neighboring stores, asking if they'd heard from her, and received nothing but empty words. He just wanted her to be anywhere that he could find, anywhere but in the arms of someone evil.

His Y/N was gone, and he was hopelessly at the mercy of his curse once again.

______

He wasn't even allowed to go on the search mission for his girlfriend. Instead, Tsunade sent Yamato as well as a few chunin who knew Y/N enough to recognize her but not enough to fail at being objective. Apparently, the copy-nin wasn't in his right mind to go on a mission right now, especially one that was so personal to him. All his missions for the foreseeable future had been cancelled and another jounin was set to replace him. He could only sit back at home, guilt ridden and feeling useless, unable to help, unable to search. He did this to her. He knew that putting his heart into someone else's hands wasn't right, that it would only lead to her suffering but he couldn't listen to his own experience. He didn’t think it could happen to Y/N. he thought he could protect her.

But fate finds a way, it seems.

He trusted Yamato and the others to find her, but it was nothing like going himself. He wanted nothing more than to see the men who stole her away taught a lesson for what they had done. He wanted to cradle her in his arms and kiss her head, and promise something like this would never happen again. At least, that’s what he wanted to do. He didn’t know how he would react in the moment, despite developing quite good self-control over the years. How could he contain himself when the perpetrators caused his beautiful girl to bleed, and no doubt suffer?

Sakura felt the worst for Kakashi, knowing what she knew. She could imagine him heading to propose to his little girlfriend whom he loved more than anything in the entire world, and see only her blood splattered across the room and endless signs of a brutal struggle. Not to mention no one had a clue why they stole her or what was happening where no one else could see. The medical nin nearly shed a couple tears when Kakashi rushed into the Hokage's office without announcement, proclaiming that his girlfriend was gone, kidnapped from her own store where she worked alone all day.

Tsunade, despite barely knowing the girl, knew it was important; for anyone to be stolen from their village was serious enough. Although she felt for Kakashi, she had to keep him calm while she worked on finding the subject of his affection. She sent out teams immediately, and stressed that Kakashi was to remain in the village until everything was resolved one way or another. She didn't want any accidents because of a reckless, emotionally compromised shinobi faltering.

It only took the teams a single day to find their target.

Shikamaru and Choji were the ones to come back first, and in the larger boy's arms rested the limp, unconscious body of a missing woman. Ever so gently, he had her head tucked away against his chest the entire way home, trying his best not to hurt her anymore. Even if she was unconscious, he wanted to respect the body. From the moments they spoke before, she seemed like the nicest girl. He felt awful. She wasn’t the one putting her life on the line, she was the one that shinobi were supposed to protect. And they failed her.

When they walked through the gates of the village, Kakashi was already rushing up to the gates waiting for their arrival. He caught up to the boys and reached out to take her body from his arms, just to cradle her against him. It was the least that he could do was take her to the infirmary. To feel her faint heart beating against his chest. He was surprised when one of the chunin sadly shook his head.

"Kakashi, she's alive, but trust me, you don't want to see what they did to her," Shikamaru warned, and Choji flinched, just thinking about what her poor face looked like when they found her. Shikamaru knew for a fact that if his girlfriend was ever handed off to him looking so pitiful, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He didn’t want the same to befall on his sensei. "Just trust me, I cannot let you see it, for your sake. Let Choji bring her to Tsunade."

He felt a burning in his stomach, pain creeping up in his abdomen like he was going to throw up all over the dirt path they stood on, but he did his best to remain calm despite the mix of emotions running through his head. He watched as the Akimichi carried her quickly off to the hospital. Kakashi didn't miss though, the blood stains on his tunic surrounding the area where her head was resting, circling her face. She had bled a lot in her time away, he realized.

God, he felt sick. So fucking nauseous.

"What happened?" he breathed heavily, words slipping through.

"Apparently, the guy had a grudge against your clan for something your father did to his family. Killed a criminal brother or some shit. When he heard wind of your girlfriend he knew he would take his revenge. Didn't want ransom, fame, nothing, just to torment you and torture her. Disgusting bastard."

There was one thing he wanted to know on top of his worry about her condition. He’d been thinking about it for the entire day she was missing. Obsessing even.

"What did you do with the man?" He hoped that justice had been served, and he couldn't imagine the two boys doing anything less.

"A man that would do that to a woman doesn't deserve his life," he muttered, his eyes trailed off to the village, “I made it painful.”

Kakashi nodded to him, and together they stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Sensei?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

____________

When he got to the hospital, Choji was directly quickly to a special unit with particularly fancy machines around the room. Sakura was standing beside her own mentor awaiting the arrival of her friend. The moment she finally saw Y/N's exposed face, she cried. Tears fell from her eyes and she leant over the hospital bed to get a look at all her wounds. She looked alien, and the amount of blood that stained her hairline and cheeks was thick and heavy. Choji had tried to wipe it off, but he just couldn’t get it all.

"Y/N! Oh my God, what did they do to you?" She cried, running her hands shakily over the contusions and the cuts and the bulging areas near her temples. Her body was no better but her face is what hurt Sakura the most. It was hard to believe that all the life had been drained from her body after this one incident.

The light had left her body. Her familiar glow emanating from her soft skin was missing. She looked cold and dead. For the first time, Sakura saw her without her smile, without any bit of optimism. It felt like she was staring at an empty shell of the woman she knew.

"Sakura, get the IV ready. I need to get to work."

And so she did what she does best. Healers at work in their element fixing broken bones, burst capillaries in her head, torn skin. Everything they could. It took hours, and her face still wasn't completely healed in the end, just less swollen. She still had some bumps and bruises but those weren't going to be so bad. They could heal by themselves with a few days of rest and care.

She would be okay, they decided after a while of treatment, and moved her into a normal hospital room, under watch of nurses every so often, no visitors allowed either. Not for the first few days, much to Kakashi's displeasure. He was really getting irritated with the way everyone was keeping him from seeing her. Shouldn’t he be allowed? Essentially, the only family she had left? In reality though, he was scared.

But did he even want to see her again? He loved her, would do anything in the world for her. If only he had the guts to just give up on her and let her meet a normal man from the village, let her marry him and just forget all about their relationship. Then, nothing like this would ever happen again. She would be safer without having connections with him. He was so upset with himself for letting this happen.

He hated himself. It had been a long time since he genuinely thought those words. He hated himself more than anyone else. He let this happen, he was to blame for all this mess. A monster.

He headed back to his apartment that night and stared over at her tiny pile of belongings in the corner, ones she had left over his place as time went on. They still didn't live together so it wouldn't be the worst thing if he broke up with her. She would be hurt, probably cry for a few days, a week, maybe a month. He didn’t know. All he knew was that a little bit of crying was a lot better than getting fatally injured.

Just return her belongings in a box, and never go back to that fucking bookshop where he fell in love with her. He could get his novels directly from Jiraiya if he wanted them.

Tsunade already told him it would be days before he would be allowed to see her again, something about the healing process and that her chakra wasn't enough to fix everything. Based on what Shikamaru had told him, the way he acted- it must have been pretty bad. He couldn't even imagine her face beaten and broken.

All he knew was that in 2 days, he would be allowed to see her again, to possibly talk to her and apologize for what he had caused. It was the least he could do. At this point he couldn't imagine giving her that ring. How could she accept when he was the reason she was abducted and tortured?

He barely slept that night, but it didn't matter. He didn't have anything to do. He was given time off work until everything was resolved. He wondered if it would have been better to have a mission and forget all about the situation for even a couple fleeting moments.

He was just so tired of these feelings. He felt suffocated, and unlike himself. He was finding it hard to be cool, calm, and collected like usual. He just felt terrible. Too terrible to eat, too terrible to sleep, too terrible to do anything but stare up at the ceiling and wonder what could have been.

______

It was time to head to the hospital and see her. Yamato had come to his apartment so they could go and see Y/N. Tsunade gave him the green light first thing that morning when he reported to her. The wood style ninja wanted to see her as well, just to say he was happy she was recovering and even tell her that next time she needed help, if Kakashi wasn't around, to run to his apartment. He would always open his arms to help. So many shinobi of the village, after this incident, would be willing to drop everything and help. Her bookstore would probably always have eyes on it from now on.

Word travelled fast between the shinobi and soon enough almost everyone was giving Kakashi sympathetic looks, patting him on the back and apologizing to him for something they knew nothing about. He just wanted to get to her and say sorry for everything he had done. For not being there sooner, for his father and his clan causing this whole thing. He just needed to see her face. He couldn't get her out of his head.

Sakura was standing outside the room when he arrived. She was biting on her nails, which was oddly uncharacteristic of her. She rarely got nervous enough for habits like that to arise. She was normally so confident. That was the first of the red flags.

"Kakashi-sensei, Yamato. You're here to see Y/N, aren't you?" she asked, her voice quiet and hesitant.

She let him Yamato walk past her into the room but she raised her hand before Kakashi could walk in. She gave him one of the most sorry, pitiful looks he had ever seen, and her lip was quivering just a bit. It was barely noticeable but Kakashi was talented at noting the smallest things.

"Kakashi, I'm really sorry about everything. Lady Tsunade did everything she could. When you go in there, just please don't get upset. It's not as bad as you think. I'll explain everything later, but I want to see how she reacts to seeing you first," she bit out, her words mending together awkwardly.

He figured she was just nervous about her condition or maybe she was still bruised and bandaged up. If she was in a full body cast, he wouldn’t care. As long as he could see her. He couldn’t understand why Sakura was so worried. She would still be beautiful to him. She could never lose that shine that she carried regardless of her external features.

"Hmm. I'm sure it will be fine."

"I'm serious. Don't get upset and alarm her, it's very important you be careful."

"Gotcha."

She watched as he walked past her into the white room, sunlight leaking onto her bedside. The woman was fond of staring out the window since she woke, comforted by the familiarity of the village and the birds that flew by. That was the one thing she needed. Comfort.

Yamato sat at her bedside, and she seemed to be talking to him quietly. Her brows were furrowed deeply and she seemed strained, thoughts running through her brain.

"Kakashi-" the man began to say, desperate to say anything to his friend before the inevitable, but was interrupted.

"Y/N, I was so worried about you," he said, words tumbling out before he could even think. He just had so much to say. He continued, "I need to apologize for what happened. I know I should have been at the shop earlier to help you close, I just got caught up in something. It was my family's fault for your kidnapping. I cannot believe I dropped my guard and let this happen to you, baby-"

She looked at him, but without an ounce of the fondness he was so used to. Instead, his girlfriend just looked confused.

"I… I'm sorry but, Sir, do I know you?"

No.

Not this.

He pleaded in his head that this was not happening. That somehow he had misheard.

"It's me, Kakashi,” he replied softly, almost pleading for her to say something else.

She smiled sympathetically, peering up at him with a little glimmer of that kindness he knew in her eyes. He could tell she was confused, and he began to feel his heart break. "Uh, I'm so sorry but I don't remember you. We're we friends or something?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say something like that,” he muttered, his eyes turned to stare at the white tiles beneath his feet.He couldn’t look at her anymore.

"Yamato, you're friends with Kakashi-san, too?" She asked the brunette at her bedside, sitting in a chair wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his pants. He felt himself becoming nervous, especially when he felt Kakashi watching him. Why did she have to ask him that question? Why did she have to address him by his name so casually? He could feel Kakashi begin to bubble up emotions he hadn’t felt from him before.

"Yes. We are all very close friends, Y/N. You were closest with Kakashi actually."

"Then how come I can’t remember any of you?"

"I don't know." He felt fear creeping up his neck, Kakashi overwhelming his senses. The grey haired man just stood there, his eye flickering between the love of his life and his friend who apparently her brain thought was more important than him. Did he not look friendly enough to talk to? Was Yamato more inviting than he was, was that why she stopped talking to him? “I really wish I could help you there,” he mumbled.

She turned back to Kakashi and smiled, but it wasn't the one he knew from her. It was different. He hated it. He didn't even want to look at her anymore.

"I hope I remember you soon, or I'll just have to get to know you again, Kakashi-san," she chirped, reaching out to touch his hand which rested on the edge of her bed. The reaction he had was immediate and almost startling. The second her hand touched his, her warmth pressed to his cold fingers, he yanked his hand away and shoved it into his pocket.

He didn't want her to touch him. He didn't want anything other than to leave. Fuck getting to know him again. That wasn't an option.

"I need to go. I've got a mission I need to prepare for."

"Okay! Goodluck out there," she called to him as he turned on his heel to leave. He grit his teeth, feeling another wave of emotion overtake him. As he stepped outside the door, Sakura was still waiting there for him, her arms crossed over her chest sheepishly.

"Will she ever remember me again?" He asked simply.

"I don't know. She's got retrograde amnesia which can sometimes be permanent depending on the damage done to the brain. We couldn't fix it, no matter how much we tried. She doesn't remember me either. She doesn't remember Gai or Naruto or even Tsunade. She only remembers the village and a few bits and pieces that she can associate with it. Of course she remembers her name and her bookstore, but specific people and memories are essentially gone for now."

"So she's lost to us?"

"She can still get her memories back, but it will take time," she explained. "Sensei, I'm so sorry. None of us wished anything like this on you. I told Tsunade about the ring you were going to give her and the proposal, and we mourned for you. I'm so sorry." She felt so bad, and they did cry for him. They cried for the girl who got to keep her life but lost her soul.

"I have to get back to my apartment and clean up a few things," he dismissed, turning his head away from his student as well. He felt his heart clench in his chest as he walked away. The ring still sat deep in his pants pocket and he wanted nothing more than to throw it in the river.

He wished he was the one who forgot everything. Maybe this pain in his heart would subside. Maybe all the guilt would be washed away once and for all.

Part Two and Three are out.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #kakashi oneshot #kakashi fanfic #naruto one shot #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagine #naruto imagine #fluff #angst #the reader is a vert sweet and feminine girl and i hope that doesnt offend anyone

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itslieutenanthawkeye · 3 years ago

Text

Day 3 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: Interruptions

"A Crowded Home"

Ao3

With peace celebrations taking place, Mikasa and Jean's apartment is a bit more crowded than usual.

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Mikasa fanned herself by the side of the crib, her eyes half-shut. Summers had become warmer with the passing of the years, and this one was a particularly hot one. She’d put the crib by the window and turned the fan on, but still, hot beads of sweat ran down her forehead. Their baby girl didn’t seem too warm, thankfully. She was sleeping in her yellow onesie, looking like the cutest kid in the entire world, but that was nothing new.

“Is she asleep?” Jean asked from the door, walking in with a bundle in his arms. Mikasa turned to look at him and nodded. “Our little guy is hungry, by the way, and he’s not latching onto the bottle.”

“Here, let me have him,” Mikasa said, and Jean placed their baby into her arms with a dexterity proper of a good father. He was only five months old, but he was just as clever as his dad. Their little boy found her breast quick, and latched.

Jean sat at her side, taking the fan from her and using it to air both her and the baby. “He’s such a mama’s boy,”

“Just like a man I know,” Mikasa pointed out, arching an eyebrow before planting a kiss on his cheek. “He loves you, a lot.”

“I know,” Jean said, rubbing their chubby little baby’s head. He casted a glance at the crib, smiling. “She went to sleep fast.”

“Can you blame her?” Mikasa sighed and looked at the pile of dirty clothes on the corner. “Connie’s gonna wash all of that. He had the idea to do the mud wars.”

Jean snorted, this time giving her a kiss. “I already told him.”

Their little apartment had been more cramped than usual. With Annie and Armin sharing the living room with Connie, Levi and Falco taking over the baby’s room and Gabi in their spare room, they’d had to move the baby’s crib to their little girl’s room. “Is everyone asleep?”

“Yes,” Jean said, running a hand across their baby’s head. He kissed his head, then went to kiss the curve of her neck. “We should put him in bed, don’t you think? The bathtub is finally empty.”

“What are you suggesting?” Mikasa said, aware already of what he was suggesting.

“I could wash your back. I could give you a massage,” he said with a wink. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze, which she gladly welcomed. His hands were nice and large, perfect for rubbing her all over. “Just put the little guy in his crib. You need rest, don’t you?”

“You need rest too,” she said in a low voice, closing her eyes. “You’ve been doing all the work with the council, have you not? You need the sleep more than I do.”

“What I need is you,” Jean said. She handed him their baby, now soundly asleep, and Jean put him in his crib. Mikasa peeked in and confirmed he had his eyes shut. People often said he looked like her, but all Mikasa could see in him was his father’s face.

“He’s beautiful,” she said, closing her eyes when Jean put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed again. “He looks just like his dad.”

“We make pretty babies, don’t we?” he whispered in her ear, making the hairs of her nape stick out in pleasure.

“The prettiest,” she agreed, smiling. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes and inviting him to kiss her. Jean leaned forward, pressing his lips to her. “Are you sure the bathtub is empty?”

“Yes,”

“And no one will hear?”

Jean smiled, brushing the hair away from her neck. “It’ll be our secret…if you stay quiet enough.”

“I’m always quiet,”

“You never are.”

Their mouths met again in a tired dance of longing. She knew what he wanted to do in the bathtub, and she wanted it as well, but something told her their lovemaking tonight would be short. A short dance to remove the longing those weeks of a full house had caused. “I love you, Mikasa.”

Their baby stirred in his sleep, and she and Jean exchanged a panicked look before stepping out of the room. Short and sweet it would be, but she needed Jean raw inside her, and all the people in their house plus the babies had barely given them time with each other the past weeks.

They had visited the island for peace celebrations, and their little girl’s birthday, and although she adored Armin like her own brother, she sometimes wished he and Levi had taken Reiner and Pieck’s example and taken up Historia’s invitation to house them in one of her country manors.

Grabbing him by the hand, Mikasa pulled him into their bathroom. The scent of oils and herbs hit her the moment she opened the door, and one look at the bubbles and the two glasses of wine told her he’d prepared this beforehand.

Jean closed the door behind her and Mikasa turned to face him, eyes closed, lips slightly pouted in anticipation. He held her by the shoulders and placed another lazy, long kiss on her lips. “You really meant the relaxing part, did you not?”

“Yes, I did,” Jean said, smiling as he pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ve been having a rough couple of weeks, with all the celebrations and the crazy folk running around town. It’s time you get a rest, Mrs. Kirstein.”

A little moan escaped her throat at that. “I like it when you get possessive.”

Despite their tiredness, Jean’s smile was wickedly flirty. “Here, let me.”

He undressed her slowly and deliberate, taking her in as if he were enjoying some sort of heavenly feast with his eyes. First, her shirt and skirt and boots. When she stood in her underwear, he went slower still, taking his time to rub every bit of her, to kiss every inch.

Mikasa threw her head back when he lowered her panties and heard him moan from the very bottom of his throat. “Onto the rim, please,” Jean requested, his voice polite, as if he were requesting something from a queen. “I want to eat all of you, Mikasa.”

The yelp that escaped her was pleading, anxious to have his tongue on her folds, licking all of her wetness. Mikasa sat on the edge of the bathtub, spreading her legs apart for him, using her legs to spread the folds of her pussy for him.

Jean kneeled in front of her, his eyes fiery, and Mikasa couldn’t help but to feel an animal sort of possessiveness. Those eyes were hers, that desire, that delicious tongue that knew how to move perfectly to give her as much pleasure as possible…it all belonged to her.

“Make me feel good, Jean,” she asked, stroking his chin sweetly. “Please, make me come.”

Jean smiled and gave her hand a fleeting kiss. “I adore you, Ackerman. I’ll make you feel good as many times as I can.”

His tongue gave her a tentative little lick, which was enough for Mikasa to bring her hands up to her mouth and bite down on her skin. Their apartment was crowded; she didn’t want anyone to hear her…and she was loud enough to begin with.

“I love you,” she whispered as Jean buried his tongue inside her slit, his nose doing funny, fantastic little movements against her pulsing clitoris. His tongue came out of her and was replaced by two fingers, which hooked inside her to that rugged spot that made pleasure ten times more enjoyable. And his tongue…oh, his marvelous tongue stroked at her clitoris, his saliva and her juices mixing in the naughtiest rhythmless song.

“Hello?” the childish little voice that accompanied the knocking made both her and Jean perk up. “Mommy? Are you in?”

“My robe,” Mikasa urged, thanking heavens that they’d locked the door. Moving as quick as if he had his gear on, Jean threw the robe in her direction and went to rinse his mouth at the sink. She caught the robe in the air and, with the agility she’d had from her teenage years as a soldier, Mikasa wrapped it around herself. She went to the door, then opened it slightly, encountering her cute little toddler. “Hey, sweetie. How did you get out of the crib?”

“Mama,” their little girl said. “Are you taking a bath?”

“Yes, I am,” Mikasa said. Her daughter outstretched her hands in her direction, and Mikasa’s chest filled with warmth at the sight of her chubby hands opening and closing, asking her to lift her without words. She took her in her arms and pressed her against her chest, where Sasha rested her tiny little head. “You should be sleeping, you know.”

“Bath,” she said, pointing inside, smiling when she saw the water. “Bubbles, mama,”

“Yes, bubbles,” Mikasa said, giving her a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“Papa,” Sasha said, pointing at her dad with another huge smile. “Papa made bubbles.”

“He did,” Jean replied, taking a handful of the bubbles and putting them around his mouth. “Papa made a bubble beard.”

Sasha laughed, delighted, her childish little voice echoing in the apartment. “Silly.”

“Hey,” Jean said, grabbing more bubbles and stepping close to put some on her face. “Now you’re silly too, little girl.”

Sasha laughed again as her tiny hands went to the foam on her face, anxious to explore more textures. She was a curious little thing, with smart eyes and keen ears to everything around her, and an almost supernatural instinct to know where she and Jean were at all times. Mikasa still wasn’t sure if it was some sort of remnant from the Ackerman genes.

“Mama, bath,” she said, pointing at the water with a chubby finger.

“You want another bath?” Mikasa asked, brushing some of her light brown hair away from her face. Sasha looked exactly like her, when it came to bone structure and the shape of their faces. But as for the hair and eyes, she carried her father’s hazel and light brown tone of hair. “Baby, you already had one earlier.”

Sasha leaned her little face against her chest again. “I’m warm, mama,”

Mikasa closed her eyes, almost overwhelmed by the sweetness of her little girl. How she had managed to create someone so perfect, so sweet and happy, Mikasa still didn’t understand. She pressed her cheek against Sasha’s head, noticing she was warmer than usual.

“Jean,” Mikasa said seriously. “She does feel warm. Fever warm.”

Jean frowned and stepped closer, putting the back of his hand against their daughter’s forehead. “She is,” he said, suddenly concerned. “Do you think she’s coming down with anything? She might’ve caught a cold.”

“I don’t know,” Mikasa said, switching Sasha’s weight from one arm to the other. “Sweetie, are you feeling good?”

“My head hurts, mommy,” Sasha said, and Mikasa and Jean exchanged another look of concern.

“I’ll get your kit,” he said, switching from the passionate lover to the concerned father in the fraction of a second. Mikasa still didn’t know which side of him she liked the most, and perhaps she would never figure that out. “Also, apple juice?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, unbuttoning their daughter’s onesie. “I’ll bathe her quick.”

“Sure thing,” Jean said, springing into action.

________________________

Jean could barely keep his eyes open. Sasha’s fever had finally dwindled, but it had taken them a whole night of watching over her to manage it. He hated seeing his children sick, and he feared that cold, awful terror that enveloped his heart every time he imagined them sick or injured would never fully go away when it came to them.

“Hey,” Connie said, sitting by his side while carrying the baby in his hands. “I got him to latch onto the bottle.”

“Connie you bastard,” Jean replied, giving his little boy a kiss on the forehead. “How is it that you can mange him to drink from the bottle and not me?”

“Maybe he wants me to be his papa,” Connie joked, winking in Jean’s direction before turning to do a funny face at the baby. “Yes, you do, don’t you? You want your mama to marry uncle Connie. Let Jean pay all the alimony, yes?”

“Shut up, Springer, you’ve got a girlfriend,” Jean snorted, unable to keep his gaze from his son. He was such a beautiful, strong boy, the perfect image of his mother. Both of their children looked exactly like Mikasa, only Sasha had inherited his hazel eyes and the color of his hair. “Thanks for helping me feed him, by the way.”

“Not a problem,” Connie said, giving their room a look. “It’s the least I could do, considering it’s my fault little Sasha’s ill.”

“It’s not at all,” Jean said, shaking his head, giving his son another kiss. He was so soft and cute, and if Jean could, he would stay home every day just to carry him and Sasha in his arms. “It was the heat, and the games. She’s still a kid, she’ll get better in no time.”

“I hope so,” Connie said, stroking his finger against the baby’s cheek. “Ah, you two make the most adorable kids. I’m coming more often to babysit,”

“Thanks, Connie,”

“When are you having a third one?” he blurted out. “Uncle Connie wants a football team.”

“Uncle Connie can start having his own children,” Jean laughed, taking his son into his arms, moving him the way he’d learned long ago. Jean gave him another kiss and he smiled at him, moving his tiny little arm, as if trying to find something. Jean offered him his finger, and his son took it without problems, giving a soft baby laughter that almost brought tears to his eyes.

“I love these two so much,” Jean said. “I’d make ten babies with her, if I could.”

“What’s stopping you?” Connie snorted.

“I’m strong, but ten is a bit too much,” Mikasa said, coming from the room and sitting next to Jean. She gave their son a kiss on the cheek, and he let go of Jean’s fingers and began to flail his little arms in Mikasa’s direction.

“I just love how he’s a mama’s boy,” Jean laughed, kissing their child again before handing him to Mikasa. “I don’t blame you, little guy, I want to be with her all the time, too.”

“Do you guys want me to hold him?” Connie asked. “Give you guys time to sleep.”

“Would you really not mind?” Mikasa said, moving their baby against her breast, lulling him back to sleep.

“It’ll give me practice,” he said, offering his arms to Mikasa. “I’ve got eight months to practice,”

Jean exchanged a look with Mikasa, then both stared at Connie with wide eyes. “No way, Connie.”

He nodded excitedly, looking as proud as Jean had felt the moment when Mikasa had told him about her first pregnancy. Men were dumb, Jean thought idly, as if he or Connie were the ones to carry a child for a whole nine months.

“Congratulations, Connie,” Mikasa said. “I didn’t think you—”

“It was a surprise baby, like yours,” Connie laughed as he took their son in his arms, who barely stirred from his sleep. Jean frowned; why was it that his son was only ever restless with him? He felt asleep so easily with Connie and Armin, and even Levi. What was wrong with him? “I’ll take him to his crib and read a book there. Is Sasha asleep?”

“She is, finally,” Mikasa said.

“Then the living room is all yours, lovers,” Connie said, with an outrageously exaggerated whisper. “Have fun but don’t be loud.”

“you think he’ll do alright? We need to visit Monica, make some sort of guidebook for him. Connie’s mom is older, she’ll need some help…” Mikasa said as Connie entered their baby room, turning to face Jean. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, perfect,” Jean said, although not too convincingly.

“Your son gets excited when he knows you’re around, haven’t you noticed?” she said, scooting closer to him on the couch. “Jean, he adores you. Even when he was inside me, he would always kick so hard whenever you touched him.”

“Why can’t he fall asleep with me?”

“Haven’t you seen how he stares at you?” Mikasa replied, kissing his neck, then his chin, as her other hand undid the first three buttons of his shirt. “He can’t stop looking at you. Didn’t you see how tight he was gripping your finger? He’s more a papa’s boy than he’s a mama’s boy.”

“I just want to be a good dad,” Jean said. “What kind of dad am I if he can’t even latch onto a bottle when I hold him?”

“Jean, we’re tired and you’re overthinking,” she said, pressing her body against his arm, bringing all his attention to her. She leaned forward, kissing the back of his ear with a sweet, sexy smile on her face. “Please, don’t overthink. Our children adore you and you are a great father. I adore you.”

He turned so he could cup her face with his hand. “You do?”

“I do,” she said, closing her eyes. Jean took that invitation and joined his mouth with hers. She opened her lips, allowing his tongue to enter her, to rub up against her own. “I adore you, Jean Kirstein.”

“I adore you even more,” he said, enveloping her whole with his arms. Mikasa was a tall woman, but he still took a sort of stupid, manly pride in knowing that he was tall enough to envelop her tightly in his limbs. “I adore you so much, my love.”

“You’re making it a competition,” she laughed as her kisses strayed to his chin, then his neck, her hands agile and quick, unbuttoning his shirt until his chest was exposed in the early morning light. “Everyone is out in the city, and Connie isn’t coming out of the bedroom in a while,”

“He’ll give us at least forty minutes,” Jean replied with a soft chuckle. “Sasha’s asleep?”

“And I closed the door, we’ll hear her opening it if she wakes up,” she assured him.

“You got anything in mind to pass time?”

“I have something,” she said, pressing her open palm against his chest, pushing him against the couch. “Sit back, please.”

Jean did as she requested, watching her in anticipation, already guessing what she was going to do. Mikasa’s hands unfastened his belt as she kissed him, and her nimble fingers found the buttons on his pants quick as always. When her hand dipped inside his underpants, Jean was already hard as a rock.

She pulled out his cock, giving it long, slow strokes that urged growls from deep inside his chest. “You’ve barely slept,” Jean said in a poor attempt at convincing her he didn’t desperately need her. “Don’t you want to—”

“No,” Mikasa said seriously, her strokes hard and steady. “I want this.”

“You’re just a filthy girl, aren’t you?” Jean joked, which was met with a soft snort from her part, since she was still so focused on the constant rubbing on his dick. “You’ve no idea how much I want you now, Mikasa.”

His wife smiled at him, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on the chin before her mouth trailed downwards. Jean’s body shivered hole when she gave a little suck to both of his nipples before placing a kiss on the head of his dick, and it trembled even more when he watched her lap at the liquid accumulating on the tip.

“Open up,” he asked, stroking the back of her head. Mikasa did as he requested without a response, and she lowered herself down onto the whole length of him, sucking as she came back up. Jean breathed heavily, feeling her throat expand to welcome him, then feeling her mouth tighten as she sucked him gently when he pulled out. “You’re brilliant at that,”

“I know,” Mikasa replied, coming back down onto him.

“Are you going to let me fuck your face?” Jean asked. His words were met with an outrageously flirty gaze from her part.

“And you’re going to cum on my mouth,” she said, putting his cock back in her mouth.

Jean moaned and held her by the head, and she allowed him to guide her in speed, only choking a little bit on his length. She pulled him out and spat on his cock, stroked at it hard while it was still wet, then gave him more steady sucking as she stroked, while her free hand was busy massaging his balls.

Jean held her by the head as she moved steadily, pushing him further and further into the pool of pleasure that was her body. At a point, he lifted her skirt and introduced two fingers into her wet, expectant hole.

He tilted his head back and moved his fingers the way she loved, adoring those moans that were stifled by his cock. He would give her pleasure back in full as soon as she was finished with him, but he had to wonder if she would let him or she would just get him hard again to make love…

“We’re home,” Armin announced, opening the door to the living room just as Mikasa came back up to show him her mouth filled with his cum. Armin gave a little squeal and covered his eyes, while Mikasa covered her mouth with both hands and Jean used his loose sleeve to wipe off the droplets of semen that had spilled down her neck.

Luckily for them, Annie and Armin’s line of view was blocked by the backrest of the couch, but they were not stupid, and the two of them had been married for a long time. Surely, both blonds and captain Levi behind them had figured out precisely what he and Mikasa had been doing.

“Don’t you have children in the house?” Levi said angrily, limping his way in with the help of Gabi and Falco.

“They’re asleep!” Jean snapped, buttoning back his pants. “Why don’t you guys ring the bell?”

“You gave us a key, dimwit,” Levi said.

“Why are you doing it in the middle of your living room?!” Annie demanded.

“Who was doing it?” Pieck asked from the hallways.

“Who do you think?” Levi grumbled, settling on the armchair nearest to him. “Which are the two people who can’t keep their hands off each other ever since they became a couple?”

Gabi smiled as she settled Levi onto the armchair. “You and Onya—”

“Shh, Gabi,” Falco said, grabbing her and Reiner and taking them to the balcony.

“What are you all doing here?” Mikasa asked, badly contained sexual frustration in her voice.

“We’re sorry,” Pieck said, coming in the door while carrying a box full of food. “Gabi suggested we had dinner tonight here. We’ll cook, so you two don’t have to move an inch.”

“Are you planning on a buffet?” Jean asked, still too aroused between the legs to do anything other than sit and wait for the effect of Mikasa’s lips on his to wear off. “Why did you guys bring in so much food?”

“We’d thought it would be a way to say thanks to you guys,” Falco replied, his cheeks colored red.

“Your mom is coming too, tonight,” Levi said, giving Gabi a thank you nod as she propped his leg up on another chair.

“Let me guess, I’m supposed to go pick everyone and bring them back here?” Jean asked.

“You’re the one with a car,” Pieck said, shrugging.

“We’re filling up your pantry, Kirstein, don’t be such a grump,” Reiner shouted in from the balcony.

Jean leaned onto his knees, giving Mikasa a sideways glance and noticing her discreetly rearranging her clothes. Even with her shirt on, he could tell her nipples were still hardened. “All those hotels, all those hotels for nothing.”

“What was that, Jeanbo?” Reiner asked.

“Fuck off,” Jean said, then noticed the distinct creaking of the room to their door opening.

“Auntie Pieck!” Sasha shouted, running in from their room, looking blessedly fresher than the night before, imbued with energy again. Pieck put the box of food on the nearest table and lifted Sasha into her arms. It might’ve been something that laid hidden in her Ackerman genes, but colds didn’t last long at all. He only hoped their baby boy would grow the same way.

“Hey,” Mikasa said, leaning closer to kiss him on the temple. “Just a few more days.”

“I could have them all year in the island,” Jean replied, turning his face so he could peck her lips quickly, taking an advantage from the buzz that had taken over the apartment. “I could be a gracious host if they’d gotten a hotel.”

“I know,” Mikasa said with a smile, brushing the hair away from his face, and the love in her eyes was all Jean needed for his mood to dissipate. “We should stop trying to sneak around while our home is so crowded.”

“We should,” Jean agreed, smiling in defeat. “We’re acting like silly teenagers.”

Now it was Mikasa’s turn to agree. “We are.”

“I can’t help it when you’re this pretty,” Jean said, cupping her face again.

“I promise I’ll be all yours when we’re less crowded,” Mikasa assured him, planting a kiss on his forehead, then one on each of his cheeks.

“Are you two gonna fuck right in front of us now?” Levi asked from his chair.

Little Sasha giggled in Pieck’s arms “What is fu—”

“It’s nothing!” Pieck squealed happily, glaring in Levi’s direction for a second before turning her attention back to Sasha. “You want to make an apple pie, baby?”

Sasha clapped her hands and beamed. “Yes!”

“There are children here, captain.” Mikasa said, glaring in Levi’s direction.

“I know, sorry,” he said, admitting reluctantly, for once, that he’d screwed up. “You two remember that as well.”

Mikasa came to her feet, looking serious but not angered. She was much more patient with their guests than he was, something for which Jean was thankful. He watched her scold Levi for a little while before going over to where Pieck, Gabi and their daughter had began setting things to bake the pie, feeling a stupid little grin spread over his face.

On the balcony, Reiner, Armin and Falco were setting up a grill he guessed they’d brought over from the continent. Yes, the apartment was crowded, but at least everyone was there, and, for the time being, everything was at peace.

_________________

Mikasa looked at herself in the mirror once again. It had been a while since the last time she’d worn something so fancy, and Pieck had insisted that a low-cut cleavage was very stylish nowadays in the continent, while Gabi had insisted that pink was Mikasa’s color.

She’d never been knowledgeable when it came to style and colors, but Mikasa had to admit she liked the way she looked. The pink fabric shone a little under the mansion’s lights, and she’d brushed her hair until it was black as night itself. And despite that she’d never been vain, pretty was the only adjective that came to her mind when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Of course, her pretty was different now than as ten years ago. Now, the muscles in her arms had given way to soft flesh, still strong, but not as razor-sharp as before. Her breasts were fuller due to the new baby, and she could no longer see the marks of her abs through the clothes. It was all product of change, of the spring that had come to her life after everything had burned down.

The ballroom was beautiful, much like every other celebration they’d attended hosted by Historia. Despite the hanging chandeliers, the servants dressed in a hundred different colors, and the ambassadors gathered in their fancy traditional garments, Mikasa’s eyes went to the stage.

She’d decided to not partake in the ceremony; she’d had enough politics for a lifetime, but she’d insisted that Jean participated. After all, there had to be at least one representative from their family up there.

“They look good,” Falco said as Historia went and presented the medals to each of the people who had been involved with the peace accords years ago.

“You two look good, too,” Mikasa said, looking at him and Gabi, who wore clothes of matching blue. Falco blushed, uttering a thank you that was mostly mumbling, and she turned her attention back to the stage.

Despite that she’d stayed at the back, Jean caught sight of her immediately. He looked so handsome in his formal suit, with his hair slicked back and his face shaved. Her husband smiled from where he stood, in an expression so flirty that Mikasa had to wring her hands together. There was something in his eyes, an idea, an idea Mikasa had the suspicion that she would enjoy it to no end.

____________________

Jean found her by one of the fountains out in the gardens, taking to Gabi while holding a glass of water in her hands. She looked gorgeous, simply gorgeous, with that pink dress and her hair loose. There was a pink collar to match her clothes resting against her neck, but that didn’t draw his attention away from the cleavage, which could’ve been scandalous if it had been a couple of centimeters lower.

“Hey,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. “How are you liking the party, Gabi?”

“It’s fun,” Gabi said, stuffing another shrimp inside her mouth. “I can’t keep count of how many of these I’ve had.”

“And how are you, you gorgeous little thing?” he said against her ear.

“You looked nice on stage,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

“You looked better, though,” with all the organizing he and Armin had done, he hadn’t seen her before the ceremony. So, the vision of her in her fancy clothes had stirred that badly hidden desire he’d pent up all these days.

Everyone would be gone in a couple of days, back to their lives on the continent or their lives as diplomats, and they would have the apartment to themselves again. But he wanted her now.

“We got a call, you know.”

Mikasa looked at him. “Your mom?” she asked, concerned. “Did something happen to the kids?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, frowning and feigning innocence. “But we need to go inside to call them back. It sounded urgent.”

________________

Mikasa moaned, clutching the face that was kneeled in front of her, buried under her skirt. “You’re a liar,” she said, but her complaints were muffled by the constant movement of his tongue against her pussy. “You’re a cheeky man,”

“I know,” he replied, closing his eyes as he parted her folds, sinking his finger inside her as his mouth kept working the pleasure spots in between her legs. “I’m a bad, naughty man.”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, bringing both hands up to her mouth to muffle her voice. He hadn’t dragged her to the reception, but to one of the many fancy bathrooms in the mansion, one that had cushioned chairs and large mirrors as an antechamber for the actual bathrooms.

As soon as they’d gone in, he’d pushed her gently onto one of the armchairs, and he’d spread her open to eat her whole. He dipped another finger in, then a third one before twitching them quickly inside her as his tongue moved against her clit, making her squeal. She covered her mouth again,

“We’re far from everyone,” he said, kissing her inner thighs while his fingers moved inside her. “You can be loud, Mikasa,”

She didn’t remove her hands from her mouth. Jean smiled at that. “Do you think you’re going to be that loud?”

She nodded, looking away from him. What did he expect, after almost a full month without anything but quick and passionate kisses and unsuccessful attempts at making love? She was a cluster of nerves and hormones, heightened by the perfume of his hair and the suit that looked beautiful on him.

“I’m close,” she announced, closing her eyes, and Jean’s tongue applied a little more pressure onto her clitoris. “Jean, I’m going to get really wet, stop,”

“I don’t care if you flood the place,” Jean said, eating her with a hunger proper of a man that hadn’t had his wife in almost a month. “I want you to flood the place, actually. Flood all of us. Come for me, baby,”

“Your suit!” Mikasa reminded him. “Y-you don’t have a spare—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jean said teasing her clit with his free thumb as his tongue dipped in her slit for a quick second. “You’re so wet and delicious, Mikasa. I don’t care if my suit gets dirty. Come for me, baby. I know you want to. Let me drink you whole.”

“But, the party…”

“We’re leaving right after this,” Jean announced. “I’m gonna fuck you in the car too.”

“Fuck,” Mikasa moaned, all her breath leaving her body as Jean resumed his licks. “Fuck, Jean!”

“Ah, foul mouthed,” he teased, making her smile. “Come on, Mikasa, come for me. Come for your husband, come all over my face,”

“You’re so naughty,” Mikasa said, throwing her head back as she reached her first orgasm in almost a month. She opened her mouth, mouthing Jean’s name as pleasure took over her body and spilled itself onto his mouth. Her whole body trembled, almost in rhythm to Jean’s moans and growls of pleasure. She moved her hips in circular movements, taking a hold of his face by the hair to keep him in place, as tiny bouts of pleasure took over her body in erratic patterns.

Once she was done twitching from pleasure, she was able to speak. “Your suit, the seat, Jean…Jean?”

“It’s all good,” he replied, lapping at her pussy with his long, wet mouth, sending shivers across her back. She looked at him and saw that his face and chin were shiny with her juices, but his suit was immaculate. Jean arched an eyebrow and smirked. “Do you think I’d let any of that go to waste?”

“Any of that?”

“Your juices,” he said, crawling on top of her. “I’d never let a drop go to waste.”

Mikasa closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath on her skin. “We’re gonna do it here?”

“Yes,” Jean said, kissing the curve of her neck. “Do you want to?”

She looked back at the door, which had remained tightly shut since their arrival. “Yes,” she admitted, wrapping her leg around his waist as Jean parted her dress.

“A dress that parts at the front,” he moaned, his cheeks impossibly red. His hands went to the zipper in his pants, and she felt his throbbing dick against her entrance a moment later. “You’re so sexy, you know that, don’t you?”

“I like to hear it from you,”

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispered against her ear, and Mikasa clutched his back as his manhood entered her, spreading her apart. Part of her thought Jean would finish the moment his whole length settled inside her, but he had a surprising restraint for someone who had just gone for so long without the physical touch they were accustomed to.

“You’re okay?” she asked, brushing a hand on his hair.

Jean chuckled breathlessly. “I’m only gonna last five minutes…I’m such a pathetic husband.”

Mikasa closed her eyes, bracing herself to utter the words in the back of her throat. Dirty talk had never been her stronghold. “You can fuck me all night. We’re not stopping after just one time.”

That was enough to get his spirits lifted. Jean moved back and then he pushed inside her, making her squeal. He gritted his teeth as he came out and pushed again, this time with his hand worked the cleavage and her breasts out spilled out.

He leaned forward, taking a nipple between his teeth and giving it a little suck. “I love these,” he said with a cheeky smile. “You’ve always had such great tits. I fucking love these tits,”

“You’re a pervert,” Mikasa replied, one of her eyes closed. Having him moving inside did wonders to make her feel hornier. “Fuck me harder,”

“Yes, my love,” he said, then he started to move his hips in quick motions, stirring her insides and shaping her to the outline of his cock. He was pounding her, and pounding her hard. Mikasa closed her eyes and used both hands to squeeze her own nipples, driven mad by the constant hit of his cock against her very bottom.

Someone rattled the door, forcing them out of their trance, of that spell that caused them to be separate from the world outside. “Get dressed,” he said, starting to pull out of her, but Mikasa tightened the grip she had on him.

“No,” she said, her insides throbbing with the size of her husband. “Against the door, Jean.”

That smile again, that flirty smirk that melted her into a puddle, that smirk she hadn’t noticed was so attractive until the dust from the war had settled. He carried her in his arms and pushed her against the wall, using both of their bodies as a blockage to keep whoever was outside from coming in.

“You’re naughtier than me,” Jean whispered, pounding into her faster.

“Harder, Jean,” Mikasa begged. Her mouth went to his neck and gave him a soft suck, which elicited another low groan from him. She’d already left a thousand little marks on his body with her teeth, which they had worn out this month they’d restrained themselves. It was time to bring those love marks back.

“Is anyone in here?!” a couple of female voices shouted from outside. Jean didn’t stop pounding on her, and Mikasa had to bite down on his skin. She lifted her head and pressed her forehead against his, loving the way his face contorted in pleasure with every thrust.

“Hello?!” another said. “We want to go inside!”

“It’s busy!” Mikasa replied angrily, not looking away from his eyes.

“It’s a big bathroom!”

“There are others!” Mikasa said, holding onto her husband as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. Heavens, he was so beautiful, and his body was just the best playground. She leaned closer to him, smiling. “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

“Can’t you come—”

“Go…away!” Mikasa shouted, although her shout turned into a high-pitched moan of pleasure as Jean resumed sucking on her nipples. She held onto him like her life depended on it, and she closed her eyes and clenched the muscles inside her to drive him over the edge. The women outside had left, and it was just the two of them again, lost in their little bubble of pleasure.

“I love you, baby,” Jean said, uttering her name in quick succession right after, his mind full of nothing other than her name, her presence, which only made her own pleasure increase. It was such a beautiful thing, to know this man had eyes for no other than her.

His orgasm was strong, and soon, her thighs and belly were coated with his semen. Jean was red faced, perhaps more than herself since he had done all the moving. He kissed her neck as she came down from the position they were in, then her cheeks, then her mouth. Her mouth moved against his slowly, their need for each other finally quenched after so many months of living in an overcrowded apartment.

“We’re not done yet,” she said, pushing him towards the armchair. “Now I’m going to ride you,”

“Yes, please,” he said, pressing his mouth against hers.

“I’ll suck you first,” Mikasa said, grabbing his wet cock in her hand.

“Fuck, yes,” Jean moaned, now his voice high pitched.

Another knock caught their attention, and Mikasa turned angrily towards the door. “I told you to go away!”

“Mikasa?” Historia said from the other side. “Mikasa, honey, you guys can’t hoard the bathrooms…besides, you guys…some people heard you.”

Her cheeks became of a deep red at the sound of the queen’s voice, and she felt Jean going limp in her hand. She turned to look at him, noticing he had the same mortified expression as herself, but the sight of him only brought out a little chuckle from deep within her chest. “We’re still acting like teenagers,”

Jean smiled at her widely. “We are,”

“Are you guys coming out?”

“In a second!” Jean shouted back.

“For real?”

“Yes, your highness!” Mikasa said, taking a minute to kiss her handsome husband’s face. "We will never hear the end of this from Connie and Reiner."

"Good thing they're leaving tomorrow," Jean replied, stroking her chin and kissing her lips, holding her face with both of his big hands. "Do you want to get out of her? Everyone can take a taxi back home for all I care."

Mikasa recalled that stretch of lonely woods that remained in the outskirts of the city, the few times they’d snuck out of their responsibilities to make love in the quiet of the forest. The car would be a bit tight, considering how much he enjoyed moving and how tall he was. One look into his hazel eyes told her he was thinking the same thing. "Take me out of here, Kirstein."

"Are you guys coming out?!" Historia asked from outside.

"Coming!" Jean and Mikasa shouted at the same time.

#Jeankasa #Jean x Mikasa #Jeankasa Smut Week #Jeankasa smut #jean x mikasa #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #JeanMika #smut #Ao3 #escritos

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Tales of the Bulbury Valentine

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: romance / fantasy / time-travel au

Warnings: mentioning of spirits / a sex scene but no details / the concept is a little like Narnia for the time-travelling, I guess?

Word count: 7270

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! This story was entirely impromptu. I had a dream yesterday with Jinyoung and it was so intense that I spent all day writing it out. I hope you all enjoy it.

Chuckling softly when you looked up at the place your feet had carried you to, you walked up the short set of stairs to the front door and went inside.

You hadn’t meant to come here, of all places, but it wouldn’t be your first time studying within these walls. Still, you had a lot to do, and there was no time to head off elsewhere.

You had to admit, you felt at home here.

“Well, hello again!” the clerk behind the counter exclaimed happily, and you beamed a smile at her.

“You look fetching, as always, Polly.”

Glancing down at her flapper-styled dress, Polly then shrugged. “I’ve worn better and worse here. Are you coming to the party later?”

“Party?” you echoed, glancing up at the board of events behind her. You laughed and shook your head. “Oh, I don’t have a need to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

“You don’t have to have a need, Y/N. But I see your bag is full. The study halls on campus too crowded today?”

“I guess now I know what all the noise was about,” you admitted sheepishly, and pointed to the closest hallway of the manor house. “Is the library free from the party?”

“What soiree would we hold in there?” she teased, and you rolled your eyes, thinking of countless wonderful opportunities that could be hosted within there.

The library was your favourite place within the estate house, after all.

“I’ll see you later, Polly. The Medieval era awaits me.”

“Not within this place, it wasn’t built until the fifteenth century!”

You laughed as you waved the woman off, greeting a few of the other paid actors as you walked down the familiar hallway to the room at the far left. You could hear all the fuss happening in the grand salon as you passed on by, a pink balloon escaping the room in the process.

You giggled. “When were balloons created?”

“The first attempt was in eighteen twenty-four, so they’re rightfully placed today,” a voice answered, and you turned, grinning at the woman in a lavish bell-shaped dress that seemed to take up more than half the walking space in this corridor.

“You know everything, Marguerite.”

“Not everything. But I do seem to know an awful lot,” she confessed, giggling with you as you both entered the library.

Glancing at your casual attire, she frowned. “You’re not dressed up.”

“I’m not a paid actor here at the estate,” you responded with a small smirk, propping your book bag next to the desk. You placed your hands upon the dark wooden desktop and sighed happily. “I came here for this desk, not for any party.”

“You and this desk,” she griped, shaking her head so much that the ornate wig she had chosen to wear almost toppled off the pins she had used to secure it. Holding her hair, she then smiled at you. “We welcome you every time.”

“I’m grateful, truly.”

“What are we studying today? The French Revolution?”

“Medieval Crusaders,” you corrected, and she scrunched up her nose. “Hey! History comes in many forms, Marguerite.”

“Perhaps you can be a mastermind behind a medieval love story for a play held in the theatre room later this year.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m a trained historian, not a writer.”

“Then you can co-direct with your facts and I with my interest in scriptwriting.”

“Perhaps, I could.”

“We’re expecting a lot of visitors today. I put an advert in the paper,” she mentioned as you sat down at the desk and pulled out your belongings. You smiled up at the owner of the estate and nodded as she continued to talk to you about the vast Valentine’s Day plans.

You supposed a place like this needed to get in on all the holidays to bring in patrons outside of the usual curious folk.

It was because of Halloween two years prior that you had stepped into the Bulbury Estate, to begin with. It wasn’t like all museums. Sure, each room was dedicated to some era of history, ranging from the fifteenth century to the nineteen-fifties. However, it was a living environment, and hardly a single mannequin was used. Instead, Marguerite had a small team of historical actors who helped her bring the past to life every day here during the tours.

You found the library on that first night here, the party being held in the grand salon nearby. You had gotten over the noise and opted for someplace quiet. The library door had opened right when you went to enter, and you had shrieked, especially when the man before you looked as if he came from the past himself.

“Y/N?”

Blinking out of your fond memories of the place, you looked up at Marguerite curiously. “Do mind the spirits for me in here as best as you can.”

“Oh, but of course. They are welcome to stay and keep me company as long as they’re quiet.”

Marguerite was naturally quirky. However, her biggest obsession, aside from wearing the most flamboyant of vintage outfits, was the spirits. You hadn’t actually met one yet, but you humoured the woman every time. She was invested in these spirits to the point she talked of them on a first-name basis quite often. They had guided her to buy the run-down estate ten years ago, so she said, and with a stroke of luck, she struck gold – literally – in the backyard and was able to pay for the repairs to be done quite quickly. Since then, she was adamant they ruled the house, and she merely managed it on their behalf.

“I worry about Thomas and Bertha causing trouble today. It is their favourite holiday of the year.”

“Then I hope they can enjoy some quiet time in here with me,” you offered with a grin, gesturing to the vintage armchairs in the room.

“I shall tell them so,” Marguerite announced with a clap of her hands and then a gasp left her. “Oh, dear! I left Joseph unattended in the salon. Who knows what that child has done to the decorations already!”

You didn’t know if Joseph was a spirit or living person, but you ushered the suddenly frazzled woman off and then sat down at the desk. Pulling out a thick textbook about the crusades, you picked up your pen and began to scribble down notes as you read. Aside from the murmur of noise that reached the library from the festivities of the day, you were alone for some time.

Until the door suddenly opened.

Glancing up immediately, you couldn’t control the smile that formed on your lips.

Nor could Jinyoung. “You know, we really need to stop meeting in this room.”

“Granted, it’s the one you’ll most likely find me in every time. But I happen to agree.”

Closing the door behind him, Jinyoung came to your side and peered over your shoulder at your studies. He placed a hand upon the table to balance himself, and you began to inspect the muscles in his exposed forearm until he cleared his throat.

“Your essay topic sounds interesting.”

“I’m enjoying it.”

Jinyoung laughed. “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met to say they enjoy their essays.”

“Then why study in the first place if you don’t enjoy it?” you wondered and Jinyoung pointed at you.

“You’re not like the rest.”

“I don’t intend to be.”

Sharing another smile, you then turned your focus back to the books jarringly. “I suppose I better…”

“Yes, and if Marguerite finds me not in the Victorian kitchen talking to guests in ten minutes, I guess she’ll fire me.”

“Your Aunt isn’t that cruel,” you told him, and Jinyoung shrugged playfully.

“Maybe if I play hooky with you, her favourite visitor, she won’t mind.”

“I’m hardly her favourite. I’m certain that’s Bertha and Thomas.”

Jinyoung shook his head. “Not you too. The spirits aren’t real. She uses that as a tactic to look kooky to her patrons. It keeps people coming back for more of her stories.”

“You and I both know they’re real,” you countered, gesturing to the portrait of the married couple on the walls. “You’re insulting them by dismissing their existence.”

Jinyoung walked back to your side and leaned down towards you. “Have you seen one of them yet?”

“No, but-”

“Have you experienced anything spooky here at the estate?”

“The door suddenly flying open on the first night I was here.”

Jinyoung stood back up and folded his arms over his chest. “You opened it, stop denying it.”

“I did not! You did!”

“We can argue about this all day but--”

The static sound of the walkie-talkie device in Jinyoung’s pocket interrupted the heated debate and he groaned, pulling it out and spoke into it. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”

“Duty calls. Who are you playing today?”

“Henry, the servant boy who wants to learn how to cook,” he announced, flicking his suspenders lightly over the linen shirt under it. “And a servant I shall be since Emma is playing Lady Crocrombe. See you around, Y/N.”

You were slightly disappointed to see the back of Jinyoung. From the first night on Halloween until now, he was part of the reason you liked coming here. It was unintentional that you arrived on the estate’s doorstep this morning, but you couldn’t deny your hope once you walked through the front doors that Jinyoung would also be working today.

Your feelings for him made you feel warm and giddy.

However, he didn’t get far. Yanking on the door handle several times, he glanced back at you hopelessly. Getting up, you approached him and the stuck door. “It can’t be locked, can it?”

“Nonsense, who would lock a door here?”

“Move aside, let me.”

“Not to sound egotistical, but if I can’t open it, how will you?” he grunted, and you shoved him aside then, placing your hands on the handle and gave it a firm yank.

It didn’t budge.

“We’re locked in. Call for assistance,” you instructed logically, and Jinyoung nodded, fishing out his walkie-talkie. It didn’t seem to connect to anything, the static sounding different this time. You reached into your pocket for your phone, but suddenly there was no signal.

You both stared at one another, perplexed.

Then the phone began to ring. Not the one in your hand, but the old vintage one sat upon the desk. You slowly turned your head to look at it and followed Jinyoung’s cautious steps across the room to it. “I thought that was a prop.”

“It is. What would it be connected to?” Jinyoung murmured, staring at the phone handle before he inhaled a deep breath and answered it. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear who was on the receiving end. However, Jinyoung visibly relaxed and started to explain what was going on. After a moment, you realised it was Marguerite talking to him, and cast your eyes across the room whilst you waited for the instruction of what to do next.

You had visited this room more than fifty times, and whilst you were certain you couldn’t remember every book title on the bookshelves that lined the walls, you had looked at them often enough to be familiar with the shapes and colours in the very least. One seemed to stand out to you all of a sudden, and you walked over to the black spine, tilting your head to the side to read the gilded title along it.

You heard Jinyoung hang up the phone, and blindly gestured for him to join you. “Have you seen this book here before?”

“Book?” he repeated, coming over. “Which book?”

“This black one. Tales of The Bulbury Valentine.”

“Never heard of it,” he said, peering over your shoulder again. You were surprised by how close he was to you, and your heart fluttering felt nice. You were slightly dejected when he shifted to your side. “Marguerite mentioned she’s tied up with an influx of visitors so she’ll let us out when she can.”

“Right. Well, that sounds fair.”

“I didn’t know that phone worked. Bizarre, don’t you think?” he continued, and you nodded, your fingers reaching to touch the spine of the book.

“Completely.”

“You’re not fully aware of what I’m saying, are you, Y/N? Just pull the book out if it’s got your attention.”

“I’m not one for Valentine’s Day stories, Jinyoung.”

“Why? Hasn’t Cupid ever shot an arrow your way?” he teased, and you groaned loudly, letting go of the book.

“I’m sure he’s shot many at you. Or at all the women around you.”

“Why do you say that?” he questioned, wriggling his eyebrows and smirking when you didn’t answer right away. He stepped in closer again, and you were certain he knew that he made your heart play up whenever he was near you. “Maybe he should have shot you then too.”

“Don’t be daft. Cupid is a folklore at the best of things.”

“Says the historian. Surely, you should know something about Valentine’s Day.”

“Lupercalia.”

“What?” Jinyoung asked, blinking frequently.

“They say it was the Lupercalia ritual in Roman times that started the ancient version of Valentine’s Day.”

“Huh.”

“Lupercalia was a fertility pagan festival to bring in the start of spring and growth. Saint Valentine has been written in the bible and has several ancient merits as well.” Looking at Jinyoung’s bemused expression, you sighed. “So, I know a little about the tradition. It comes with studying mythology in my first year.”

“So, what happens?”

“What do you mean?”

Jinyoung folded his arms across his chest again. “To Valentine’s Day. When did it become a gimmick?”

“I wouldn’t call it a gimmick, Jinyoung.”

“You just said you don’t do Valentine’s Day stories. Do you still believe in the romance of it all?”

“I don’t know what I believe in, but I do know that the history of it becoming what it has is pretty interesting.”

“So pull out the book. You like history, shouldn’t we learn more together?”

“I’m supposed to be working on my essay,” you mentioned, looking over at your discarded study and then back at the book. You grinned at Jinyoung. “I suppose a short look won’t hurt us.”

Reaching again for the spine of the book, you pulled it out from the shelf and opened the cover.

There was only one thing inside. “A key?”

“It’s not a book?” Jinyoung questioned, lording over you to stare at the puzzle before you. Sharing a look, Jinyoung then reached for the key and pulled it out from the book. “Where do you go?”

Looking at the gap in the shelf, you noticed you could see light shining through. “There! The lock is in the bookshelf.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jinyoung breathed, sharing another glance with you before slipping in the key. You heard the lock click and a section of the bookcase swung into a secret room.

You both peered inside, trying to decipher if it was safe to step in. “Does Marguerite know of this secret room?”

“Probably. Maybe not. My Aunt is hard to keep up with.”

“We shouldn’t go inside it then.”

“Logically, no. But aren’t you curious, even just a little?” Jinyoung asked, and you nodded swiftly, taking his hand that he held out to you without any further thought.

You were surprised by how warm he was.

“Let’s leave the door open so we can come back, okay?” you suggested, following Jinyoung into the dusty room.

“Or this could be a horror film in the making, and it creakily shuts behind us,” he mentioned, and you squealed when as soon as you were both inside, it did just that.

Gripping onto Jinyoung tightly, you then thumped him with your spare hand. “Now, what do we do?!”

“You begin to fall together,” a hushed little voice mentioned in the dark, and before you could shriek at the statement, you began to descend at a fast pace through, well, you couldn’t really tell.

Was it time? Realms? You weren’t able to decipher anything apart from it felt as if your falling was endless and Jinyoung’s hand was growing harder to grip onto.

You could barely see him now, but the way he tried to grapple onto your hand made you realise he didn’t want to lose you either.

Eventually, you did, and as soon as you could no longer see him, you fell with a thud onto something soft.

Springy.

Bedding?

Opening your eyes, you then blinked several times. It was day time again, and you thanked the light for greeting your eyes as they strained to take in your surroundings. You were certain this was still the manor house, but not of the present time. Sitting up in the bed, you realised you were up in a bedroom in the west wing.

“It still looks the same,” you breathed, noticing how well Marguerite had done with restoring it. It was as if she had been to the past herself and knew exactly where to place each bit of furniture.

“That makes zero sense,” you chided yourself, though after blinking some more, nor did the notion in your head about this being the past.

“Marguerite!” you called out, and jumped when the door opened, Jinyoung’s aunt dashing into the room.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Lady—what do you mean?” you asked her and took in her outfit. It was the plainest thing you’d ever seen her wear before. You started to laugh. “You, a servant?!”

“Did you fall ill overnight? Shall I fetch a doctor?! Oh, the Mistress won’t be happy to hear of this at all! I was told to check for any and all chills before your wedding day, and I was certain I caught them all!”

“Mistress? Wedding day? Marguerite, you are talking nonsense. And you look entirely plain.”

You stopped for a moment, frowning at how your accent and word choice sounded different. Older, in fact.

You really needed to stop reading so many regency au stories.

“This is always how I look, My Lady.”

“No, you wear the most flamboyant of outfits. Lace upon textured fabrics and lush petticoats!”

Marguerite started to bounce on the spot, growing increasingly frazzled. “Oh my! You have caught a chill!”

And before you could answer, she dashed out the door and shut it behind her.

“What on earth just happened?” you asked yourself, pulling back the blankets and walking barefoot across the wooden floors to the mirror by the wall.

As you caught glimpse of yourself, you were relieved to find your appearance was still the same. You weren’t anyone else and wondered if you had fallen in the secret room and hit your head and were now concussed.

Pinching yourself, you whined when it hurt to do so.

“I’m not dreaming.”

Pacing across the floor in your nightgown, you raised a hand to your mouth in thought. “Marguerite is acting weird and called me by a lady of status. But she’s the one who owns this place, so why is she dressed as a lady’s maid?”

“Where is Jinyoung?” you asked next, and jumped when the door opened.

You were met with familiar eyes that rounded upon seeing you and then diverted to the walls at the somewhat sheerness of your clothing.

“My Lady, you shouldn’t be out of bed if the chill has caught you! Doctor Park, please forgive her lack of modesty.”

“Uh, er, right,” Jinyoung managed, peeking another look in your direction. You gave him a pointed look back, and his eyes went straight to the ceiling again.

“I’m perfectly fine, Marguerite. It is you who is acting peculiar.”

“Back to bed, My Lady, so the physician can check if your health is quite alright. Your marriage to Lord Maynes is this afternoon, and we must ensure we are sending him a healthy daughter of the manor.”

“I suppose my sister Caroline could step in if I’m not able to,” you offered and then frowned at the name.

Who was Caroline?

“I’ll check Miss Y/N over now if you don’t mind,” Jinyoung gruffly stated as soon as you were back under the blankets. Staring at you momentarily, Jinyoung smiled weakly before directing his next instructions to Marguerite. “I’ll need some water.”

“Of course,” she said, going over to the basin in your bedroom.

“Not that water!” he cried, and Marguerite’s hands shook with surprise. “I uh, will need it fresh from the well.”

“Is that truly necessary?”

“Yes. If a wedding is to go ahead, then it must be at its freshest.”

Marguerite nodded resolutely and dashed out of the room, leaving you both alone. You stared at Jinyoung, hoping he had some answers. He merely shrugged. “When I woke up, I was in a small house, and Polly called me her brother.”

“Polly’s here too? Do you think this is all staged then?”

Jinyoung stared at you. “I said, I woke up in a small house. Not here.”

“So you saw the outside world. Is it modern or-”

“Are you really asking me when we look like this, and you’re dressed in something my great grandmother would wear?”

“It’s rather comfy,” you admitted, and Jinyoung couldn’t contain his chuckle.

“I wasn’t quite expecting to see you in so little just yet.”

“Yet?” you echoed, but he gave you no answer, fishing in his leather bag and looking at all the instruments he pulled out. You shook your head. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“I know that, but given how strange you normally are, and no doubt how you acted upon seeing my Aunt, they’re all convinced you’ve caught something terrible, and the wedding won’t go ahead. From what I’ve gathered, you’re to marry some Lord who will help with the prosperity of the village.”

“Thomas?” you offered and then shook your head. “No Thomas was a…”

“A what, Y/N?” Jinyoung prompted when you trailed off.

Paled, you didn’t blink as you stared at Jinyoung. “A doctor.”

“Bertha was the second eldest daughter of this house. Caroline was barely fifteen when her sister was meant to be married off,” Jinyoung added on, and you stared at him with interest. He coughed awkwardly. “So maybe I’ve been around when my Aunt talks her nonsense a few times.”

“I’m Bertha, and you’re Thomas?”

“And this is a nightmare. What do we do to escape it?”

“Well, what did they do?” you enquired, finding no answer immediately.

Jinyoung got up and went to the window. “Marguerite is finally at the well now.”

“Can’t you say I’m terribly ill?”

“That would ruin the family.”

“Bertha did that by leaving Lord Maynes for Thomas, no doubt,” you airily offered, and Jinyoung spun around, nodding as he returned to your side.

“She married Thomas.”

“Yes, I know of that,” you snapped, the light bulb that had gone off in Jinyoung’s head finally lighting up in yours. “She didn’t marry today.”

“Nor will you. Get dressed now!”

With some effort, you managed to get into a simple empire styled dress, donning a light coat Jinyoung found for you in the wardrobe before taking his hand. Hastily putting on shoes without anything under them, you allowed Jinyoung to take your hand again.

He began to pull you towards the door he came through, but you stopped, looking at the panel in the wall of your room. “This way.”

“There’s no other exit.”

“I’m Bertha right now. This is my room, and I trust my instinct,” you announced, tugging him over to the panel and pushing on it. A tiny corridor appeared, and Jinyoung gave you little time to admire it, shoving you inside and shutting the panel behind him.

You let out a triumphant giggle on being right.

It was arduous in places to navigate, but the secret hallway led to a set of stairs that wound around the house until you spotted a trapdoor. Unlatching it, you then crawled outside, brushing the dirt off your skirt as you waited for Jinyoung to climb out.

He grinned at you. “We’re so looking for this when we’re back.”

“For now, we need to get away so let’s worry about trapdoors and hidden staircases when we’re not escaping, shall we?”

“You’re sassier than I expected.”

You looked at the man who reached for your hand effortlessly and started to run with him across the back of the garden towards the woods. “You hardly know me.”

“That’s not true. I know some about you.”

“That I am history mad and would rather come to your Aunt’s manor museum than spend time in modern places? That’s probably all.”

“You have the most interesting colour of eye too,” he confessed, and you stared at his side profile then, watching his ears turn pink from the admission.

“I’m not sure what made me swoon more then. The fact that you noticed something about me or the way you worded it.”

Jinyoung recovered, thanks to your sentence, and grinned at you. “The fact you swooned is enough for me.”

“Alright, Doctor, it’s on you now. Where did Thomas take Bertha?”

Staring at the small cabin deep in the woods, you were stunned. Jinyoung, equally amazed by the discovery, let out a small whoop of excitement. “It actually is here!”

“You saw it in your head?”

“Vaguely. He directed us here.” Jinyoung opened the door and let you inside. You sat down with a whine, looking down at your ankles that had been rubbed raw from your travels without any socks on.

Jinyoung cleared his throat as he crouched down in front of you, removing one of your shoes before looking up at you. “Do you reckon they were the ones who guided us to this strange world?”

“Maybe they were annoyed with you for not believing they exist.”

“You pointed out that I knew they did.”

“But as spirits,” you corrected, and Jinyoung sighed. You hissed when he pulled off your other shoe, your heel worse on this side.

“It’s a good thing I’m a doctor.”

Unable to hide your amusement, you laughed gently until Jinyoung began to treat the wounds. He did an excellent job with the tools he had, and you wondered if he was just that capable or if Thomas had guided him with this as well.

Jinyoung grinned up at you once he was done. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

There was comfortable silence as you both took in the cabin. There were the basic amenities. A cooking area was nestled next to the open fireplace, and there were two armchairs, one that you were seated upon, facing it.

A small dining table with two chairs and a modest bed filled the rest of the space.

It would do.

However, you would need to work hard for it too.

“There’s little food stored here,” you mentioned once back on your feet and exploring the place.

Jinyoung had just come back inside. “There’s an outside toilet, though it’s not great. But what’s worse is there’s no real firewood. It bet it gets cold around here, so we better gather some wood.”

“How do we go about getting food?” you wondered, and Jinyoung gave you a grim look. You nodded. “Well, I guess we have a lot of adjusting to do.”

By nightfall, you were both exhausted. You had helped drag bits of a fallen tree from the forest surrounding you for Jinyoung to chop up and stacked it inside and by the wall of the cabin for subsequent days.

By luck, you found a chicken coop out back and even better was Jinyoung’s cooking skills as he boiled the bird over the fireplace for dinner. You had managed to uproot some vegetables from a tiny garden and dinner was enough to fill your stomachs.

After some time spent quietly around the fireplace, one too many yawns had sent you both over to the bed.

Jinyoung shook his head. “We’re doing this out of necessity.”

“Neither of us will get any sleep on an armchair.”

“Absolutely not.”

“And we’re adults. Sharing a bed will be fine.”

“It’s a small bed, but we’ll make do,” Jinyoung concluded nervously, and you nodded equally as awkward, before both climbing under the blankets and laying beside one another.

You were stiff for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling. Chancing a glance at Jinyoung, you were surprised to find him watching you. It didn’t make you flinch, rather you smiled. “Do you think Thomas and Bertha loved each other before today?”

“No,” Jinyoung stated, rolling onto his side, so he was fully facing you. You mirrored his actions and propped your head up with your elbow. “I think he was just a friend.”

“Maybe they liked each other a little. I mean, he risked a lot by taking her away from the house on her wedding day.”

“She wanted to escape, what should he have done? Told her no? Left her to an ill-fated match? I can understand why he helped her escape. No one should marry another without love involved.”

You smiled lazily. “You’re quite the romantic, Doctor Park.”

“Please, just call me Jinyoung, My Lady.”

You giggled. “I’m hardly a lady of status.”

“I don’t know, you suit the role,” he said, and you watched him for a moment more.

“Maybe that’s why I come to the manor.”

“Because you’re Bertha in the present day?”

“Do you have a PhD in anything?” you asked tauntingly, and Jinyoung laughed, shaking his head. “We’re just two normal people, really. So were they.”

“Who fell in love,” Jinyoung breathed out, staring at you intensely.

With the humour now gone, you felt your breathing change, growing restricted with all the flutters in your chest. Jinyoung seemed to wrestle with a similar reaction and then cleared his throat loudly, swapping to laying on his back again.

The moment now lost, you awkwardly wished each other a good night’s rest and eventually drifted off to sleep.

You had hoped when you woke up that it would be in the library of the manor where you had last been. However, finding yourself nestled into Jinyoung’s warm side wasn’t all that bad. If you had to be stuck in the 1800s, you couldn’t hope for a better person to be with.

Jinyoung stirred awake shortly after you, and after marvelling his bed hair and him pointing out your own, you both got to work.

Day in and out was much the same. You cultivated what you had, you cleaned and collected wood together, and you even got used to fending off the earth for food to cook each night. He would improve your home little by little, and you became skilled in sewing new coverings or mending clothes along the way.

It brought you both closer to one another, and for a while there, you almost forgot the tally of days Jinyoung had been counting of your stay. It felt comfortable being with him each day and night.

However, when Jinyoung pulled you over to where he had been marking down your stay, you gasped. “It’s been a hundred days already?!”

“Do you think Bertha and Thomas trapped us in this world so they can live as us in the present?” Jinyoung mentioned bitterly, and you shrugged, slumping down into an armchair in shock. He approached you soon after and crouched at your side. “Not to say I’m not enjoying your company. I am. I do. But I kind of would like to go home. I’ll praise my microwave and ready-to-eat foods so much once I’m back.”

“And a flushing toilet,” you offered with a laugh. “Oh, and a shower. Gosh, I miss a good shower.”

“Is the lake nearby not doing it for you, huh?” he asked mischievously, and you pushed his arm off the side of the chair playfully.

“It’s sufficient.”

“You don’t take your undergarments off.”

“I’m washing them too as I wash myself,” you objected, your cheeks flushing with the thought of how easily Jinyoung took his shirt and pants off whenever you went to the lake. You didn’t watch him do it, of course, but you had seen his shoulders and chest, and that was enough to fulfil any desires you had for the man until the next lake visit.

Jinyoung chuckled. “You’re thinking sinfully right now.”

“You are too.”

He shrugged. “You don’t give me much to think like that over.”

“A lady shouldn’t bare herself unless it’s to her husband in these parts,” you stated dramatically, and Jinyoung didn’t laugh as you expected him to. Losing yourself in his gaze as he had already done with you, you instinctively moistened your lips.

You both had been dancing around the unspoken feelings for one another for quite some time now. Naturally, the more you bonded, the more you fell for Jinyoung. He was playful yet incredibly capable. He was there to help you when it was too much and had shouldered your tears whenever you had fits for home.

Even without this experience, you had crushed over him, but now it was beyond a crush.

You had fallen in love with him.

“Was this how it happened for them too?” Jinyoung whispered, and you knew what he meant right away.

“Perhaps,” you said back, your hand reaching out to hold his.

It had been your favourite thing to do all this time. No matter the time of day or night, reaching out to hold his hand made you feel connected, grounded even. Right now though, his touch held a charge that had built to a point that started to buzz throughout you.

It was then that Jinyoung captured your lips in his. The buzz turned into a rush, and you pulled him up to you from the ground, your lips not parting as he, in turn, tugged you from the chair. Now standing, your arms moved to stabilise your balance by hooking together around his neck, your body flush with his.

This kiss was yours alone.

Although you knew you were being guided by the past lovers, this moment was spurred on by your own feelings that had grown. You could taste the hunger, the passion upon his lips and feel it upon your skin as his hands took purchase of your hips, moving downward until he reached your thighs. Hoisting you up, you curled around Jinyoung, pulling back for another breath only to crash down upon his hot mouth once more, kissing him eagerly as he carried you both over to the bed.

Laying you down, he placed a knee between your legs and finally pulled back, his dark gaze washing over you lustfully. “What are we doing?”

“You know exactly what we’re doing, Jinyoung. Something long overdue between us.”

He groaned before leaning down to capture your mouth against his again, hands exploring, trying to undo one another’s clothing. It was easy enough to get his shirt and suspenders off, but your dress slowed Jinyoung down, and he grew impatient with it being in the way.

Sitting up and pushing him back, so you were now resting upon his thigh, you reached for the ties of your dress and loosened them off. Holding up your arms, Jinyoung swore under his breath, his palms pushing the fabric up and over your head.

Just your undergarments remained.

“A lady shouldn’t bare herself,” he reminded of your statement previously, and you smiled, still holding your arms above your head for him to take it off. “Not unless it’s to her husband.”

“Will you marry me then just to take it off?” you asked, and Jinyoung cursed once more at your direct approach. “I’m certain Bertha and Thomas weren’t married whilst they lived in these woods.”

“Are we playing them still right now?” Jinyoung asked, and you shook your head.

“In our lifetime, being intimate can happen regardless of being married or not.”

“In our lifetime, we also have protection,” he pointed out, the flames within his eyes dampening with the further logic he placed over the situation.

You didn’t want this to end here. You only wanted one thing, and that was to feel the culmination of your feelings for him, emotionally and physically. Kissing him with demand, Jinyoung’s resolve broke, his hands taking to the bottom of the fabric and only pulled away to get it over your head. Taking off his pants, he stopped and stared at you.

You finally were as bare as he was.

“I’m in love with you,” he confessed, and you nodded, resting your forehead against yours.

“I know. I am with you too.”

“I know,” he replied with a shared smile, capturing your lips and heart once more.

Two years or so had gone by since you found yourself in this strange world. You had stopped counting how long exactly it had been in this little oasis you shared with Jinyoung. You enjoyed the simple life at his side and the ecstasy that came with loving him during the nights. Somehow, you hadn’t fallen pregnant yet, and even though you had both taken vows last summer in a tiny church in another village, your marital life was childless.

You had to admit you were starting to feel as if your womb would forever remain barren.

Finding your menstrual cycle had arrived like clockwork once again disappointed you, and you wondered why.

“Perhaps it’s the environment,” Jinyoung mentioned, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going back to the township. Out here we can be whoever we want to be.”

“We can be that there as well. We’re married now. They can’t break what we vowed under the eyes of God apart.”

You remained against the idea until one morning someone from your household finally travelled this far into the woods to find you. Marguerite was relieved to see you alive and well, begging for you to return to the house. “They will forgive you of your betrayal, My Lady.”

“What of Caroline?”

Marguerite sighed. “She married the Lord in your stead. She’s rather happy now. She is with child again already.”

You swallowed difficultly, nodding once. “Again. Her second?”

“Third. She bore twins for the Lord.”

Jinyoung reached for your shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “And of Y/N’s parents?”

“They have entrusted the estate to you.”

“Not Caroline? Nor Abigail?”

Marguerite smiled. “It’s time to come home. Your father has fallen ill, and he wishes to see you before he leaves this earth.”

Leaving the cabin was painful. Your lives had been set up there, and yet, you were curious to see the manor again. As Marguerite had assured, your family welcomed you home with open arms, grateful to see you alive and well. Jinyoung was accepted as your husband and took over some of the affairs when your father in this world passed away. Your mother soon too joined him, and it was now your estate with Jinyoung.

But it didn’t quite feel like home.

“My Lady?”

Opening your eyes, you smiled weakly at Marguerite’s appearance. “I’m tired today.”

“You’ve rested enough now, don’t you think?”

“No, I feel I need more sleep.”

“Jinyoung is already on his way back.”

“Back where?” you asked groggily, and when you received no answer, you sat up immediately, noticing the room was now empty.

Getting out of bed, you found the floor beneath you gave way, and the same falling feeling you had experienced four years ago started again.

When you woke up this time, you were nestled in the library next to Jinyoung, your head upon his shoulder.

“Quite the adventure you two took today, huh?” a voice mentioned, picking up the book you held loosely and looked it over.

Blearily looking around yourself, you sat up, staring at Jinyoung when he reached out for your hand. Helping you to your feet, he then let you go. “I suppose Emma needs me in the kitchen.”

Once hastily excused, you stared at his Aunt for some time. Her expression felt knowing about the journey you just took. “It’s the same day?”

“What year did you think of it to be?”

“I just… that dream felt longer than a day. More like years.”

“I’m sure it was,” she answered with a smile, the glint in her eyes confirming your suspicions. “Thank you for looking after the spirits today. They always seem to be on the lookout to play matchmaker. It would have been a disaster if I let them loose on just anyone.”

You didn’t know what to say back, a small smile gracing your lips before you pointed to your things. “I uh, I better clean up.”

“Will you stay for the party, Y/N?”

“I’m rather tired,” you excused, and Marguerite laughed, nodding along.

“Yes, I suppose it was a long journey back too.”

She left you then, and you stared up at the portrait of the couple in the room, wondering just how long they had been watching over you.

And Jinyoung for that matter.

Not really knowing how to comprehend all that had happened, you gathered your books and belongings back into your bag and shouldered it.

It felt odd to be doing tasks you hadn’t done for four years.

Or a day. You couldn’t quite understand time right now.

Still, you took your time, going into the bathroom and rejoiced over hot water when you washed your hands, and then headed to the exit.

Instead of leaving, you turned for the grand staircase, taking yourself up to the bedroom in the west wing.

You marvelled at how identical it was. “Marguerite has been there more than once, I’m sure of it.”

“I think so,” Jinyoung announced, and you spun around, staring at the distance between you both. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know what’s acceptable or not in this realm.”

“I guess we have to get adjusted to modern times again.”

“In this year we weren’t married,” he mentioned, stepping closer to you. “Not even dating.”

“No, we were almost strangers. A pair who fought over a door opening between them two years ago,” you announced with a grin, and Jinyoung chuckled.

“What if we both agree that Bertha and Thomas opened that door between us?”

“Then I think we’d have to agree that they also took us someplace today,” you answered, taking a step towards Jinyoung. He reached out for your waist, and you almost hummed with happiness.

It felt just as natural as it had before.

“And in that world, we fell in love.”

“Will we in this world?” you wondered as Jinyoung tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“It is Valentine’s Day still. Should I take you on our first date?”

“Was our first date back then when we chopped wood together?”

Jinyoung laughed and leaned down to brush his lips over yours. “I promise I have no need to chop wood in this lifetime.”

“You were awfully good at it, though.”

“So you did watch me.”

“Intently,” you divulged, slipping your hands up over his chest and resting them on his shoulders. “I’d like that date.”

“I’d like it too.”

“And then what happens after it?” you asked, chewing your lip with anticipation.

“Well, it’s our turn to tell the story. Thomas and Bertha have their world, but this is ours. Whatever happens next, we’ll have to write it down in our own book.”

“The Tale of Love: Then and Now,” you named it, and Jinyoung laughed, hugging you warmly.

“Whatever it’s called, so long as you remain close to my heart, I know I’ll live happily ever after.”

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#got7creators #got7writerscollective #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #park jinyoung fiction #park jinyoung fanfic #park jinyoung romance #park jinyoung au #park jinyoung scenarios #got7 fiction #got7 fanfic #got7 romance #got7 au #got7 scenarios #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop romance

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tinalbion · 3 years ago

Note

Hey Best Writer- (I really mean it 😔💕💕💕) If you take ask(ik your asks are open but I’m just making sure 😤💕) could u do a scenario/hcs (whichever you want) for Buckman and his S/O that have a L O T (arms, back and legs) of tattoos and is a heavy metal singer- If it’s okay 😂👉👈 I just had this magnificent idea Ps: I luv your writing so much 😔😔😤😤😤🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️👁👄👁

FRUTTI! YOU SWEET AND WONDERFUL DARLING, YOU! Best writer? You’re WAY too lovely, omg, bless you~

You’re always so kind and I love you so, so much! This is definitely okay and I cannot wait for you to read what I have, may you enjoy it! 💖 And I love YOU!!! Thank you~

Mayor Buckman x Reader who is a Heavy Metal Singer Covered in Tattoos

Rating: None

Length: 1.2k

Upon meeting

Coming to Pleasant Valley wasn’t exactly what you signed up for when you got lost on your way to the beach, but the detour sign was the only way you could have possibly gone what with the other roads being blocked or out of service. So here you were, staring ahead looking like a deer caught in the headlights as your car was surrounded by all of these people who had greeted you so kindly, some were even playing instruments as you sat in the driver’s seat. Then suddenly, they all parted to make way for an older gentleman who looked as friendly as the rest of them, his face giving you that sense of ‘everything is gonna be okay’. He was dressed very well and he looked really intrigued by your look.

“Well greetings there, darlin’, Buckman’s the name, mayor’s my game!” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you took it firmly, shaking it and surprising even him with your grip. “Welcome to Pleasant Valley.”

You stepped out from the car to speak properly and that’s when they all got a real good look at you in your tank top and shorts. Buckman had been rendered speechless as you stepped out looking up at the large manor as you shield your eyes from the harsh sun, his gaze glued on you as your attention was elsewhere. You really were a very unique creature and it almost shamed him to look at you like that, especially with his background and his personal beliefs.

It only got worse from there as he kept an eye on you throughout the day. Granny Boone caught you and gave you a glass of fresh lemonade and conversed with you, commenting on your tattoos.

“So darling, what made you think of getting all those tattoos on you? Seems to be a perfect way to ruin your skin…”

You smiled kindly and shrugged. “I’m an artist in a way, I sing, probably not the type of music you listen to, but this is another way to express my artistic feelings and I just think they’re gorgeous. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, that’s totally understandable.”

Granny Boone listened as she sipped at her glass, quiet as she looked up and down your arms and legs, smirking ever so slightly. “Sounds like a very interesting take on it, dear, I respect that.” And that was that.

What neither of you knew was that the mayor had been hanging around, listening to you speak. It was a completely different way of thinking, he didn’t understand it to the point of getting it inked into your skin, but as Granny said, he could definitely respect it. But what really caught his attention was your confession of being a singer, though you mentioned it wouldn’t be something they may like. He was still genuinely curious about you. You seemed like this really hard, really aggressive-looking person, yet something in your face and in your voice was really sweet, it drew Buckman in like nothing ever had before.

He walked along the dirt roads of the town and gave instruction to the townsfolk for the other guests that so happened to stop into town thanks to their cleverly crafted detour sign, but he firmly instructed that the heavily tattooed gal was to be off-limits for now.

It wasn’t until the sun had gone down that you came out from your quarters and almost quite literally ran into Buckman as you were wandering around Pleasant Valley and enjoying the music that echoed in the air, and you caught your footing before stumbling, grabbing the mayor’s hand before he too fell onto the ground from the impact.

“Oh, I am so sorry, mayor!” you chirped as you dusted off his jacket for him, panicking that you may have upset him or offended him, but when you looked up, he was chuckling. "Oh, I'm sorry?"

"Well, well, if it isn't our little charming camellia," he greeted and placed his hand on yours. "Don't worry so much about it, darlin', you okay?"

You blushed a little and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. What are you doing out here so late?"

Buckman looked around and gestured at the sky. "Well now, the sky is clear, the moon is high, and the evening is still early. Gotta relax and have some fun, ya know? Let loose a little. By the way, I heard about your music, what kinda music do you sing?"

You looked up at him and smiled, wondering just how much you'd scare this poor man with your preference of music. Though showing that he was interested was amusing in itself. "Well, as I mentioned to Granny Boone, I don’t think you’ll be too excited about it. You folks seem to like a certain charming genre while mine is uh, heavier... “ you explained with a grin.

Buckman didn’t seem to mind as he walked alongside you, his hands clasped behind his back as he listened. “You are an intriguing creature, I hope you know that."

You looked up at him and eyed him curiously, unable to hide your smile as you both stopped at the edge of the grassy field that stretched out before you. The moon pulled your gaze away from him and you couldn't help but really admire being out in the country like this and really being closer to nature. You were a city person, you didn't get the time nor the pleasure to get the chance to do this very often.

"Well uh," Buckman began, "I'd be willing to hear your music some time if you decided to stay for the next couple of days."

You looked back at him and smiled excitedly. "Yeah, I'd really like that, mayor."

"Oh now, do go ahead and call me Buckman," he cooed and slipped his hands in his pockets, walking away and making it back to the life of the party, leaving you to your thoughts in the moonlight. And that's where it all began.

Establishing a relationship

After capturing his interest, it ended up going from there and you two grew ever closer, so much to the point that he spared you from ending up on the dinner table that Jubilee. You were in the dark and had no idea of the fates of the guests that had passed through.

The more time you spent together, the more you allowed Buckman to see the real you; you told him your interests, you told him your likes and what drove you, what you were passionate about. He seemed to take interest in these things all without really telling you much about himself.

What seemed like days was almost a fever dream for you and then something had changed. He asked you to stick around even though he warned you that if you did, things would become complicated. You didn't know what that entailed, but despite it being cryptic it was almost sweet the way he asked you these things.

"Aren't I a bit too different for you, though? I mean, this whole 1800s thing, I don't know if I'd-" You were unsure of yourself and yet you were almost leaning toward the choice of staying here with him despite it being very far from your comfort zone. "You mean, you don't mind that I look like this?"

"Darlin', you're one of the most unique individuals I've ever come across, and I've seen a lot of different folk stop through here. I think this place will be good for your soul."

#tinalbion writings #slashers headcanons #slashers imagine #slashers x reader #slasher requests #mayor buckman #mayor buckman headcanons #mayor buckman imagines #mayor buckman x reader #tuttifuckingfruttifriday

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stusbunker · 4 years ago

Text

AGA: Spit It Out

A Supernatural Denny AU

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other Characters: John and Mary, Jody, Garth, Anna, Castiel, Sam, (mentioned) Benny, Jo, Jack

Word Count: 4222

Summary: Dean has the toughest conversation of his life. Cas asks questions. Sam is a little shit.

Warnings: Homophobic language, internalized biphobia, coming out

Series Masterlist

Shout out to the amazing @cracksinthewalls for all her help on this series.

Dean hadn’t realized how terrified he was of facing his father until he broke down at Jo’s. It hadn’t felt like something he would ever have to do until then. Now, it felt as inevitable as a death sentence.

John had always been a huge force in Dean’s life, but since he had gotten hurt to the point of disability, he was less of a presence and more of an imprint. Letting down his folks was the ultimate sin, one Dean had fought his whole life to resist. He knew they loved him, but would it be enough for them to see beyond the idea of Dean they had in their heads. Could they love a pansy?

His mother would be easier to bring on board; he was her favorite whether she’d admit it or not. On the other hand, John was a Marine, he was a mechanic; he didn’t deal with feelings or things he thought were reckless, selfish choices. Dean had never been selfish a day in his life, but this was something that seemed worth it. Benny was worth it. Dean couldn’t give up on family, and he needed them in his corner if it was going to work at all.

First, Dean just needed to get the words out.

The wind whipped through the neighborhood he grew up in like a child unleashed upon the playground. Direction and speed split its focus until it stilled long enough to move on to the next distraction. Dean parked on the street, letting the familiar siding and newer front door center him as he approached, trying to ignore the uneasiness that was unfurling in his gut. Sam was having lunch with some guys from high school who were in town early for Thanksgiving, granting Dean this window of privacy.

Not that Dean told Sam anything. He had done enough talking at Jo’s, even Benny didn’t know everything that he’d been processing the last few days. He hadn’t wanted to make any promises. Dean walked into the house, calling out his greeting, never one to knock at home. John was parked in front of the television in the living room while Mary sent her welcome from somewhere in the basement.

“Hey! Talk about timing, lunch is just about done,” John teased. “What brings you ‘round? Sammy’s out for the day.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know. Kinda why I came,” Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of jeans, still standing.

“Jayhawks are playing at two if you wanna stay,” John offered. Dean hummed in uncertainty. John dragged his feet from the ottoman to sit up and face Dean better. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t talk about over lunch. I’m gonna go see if Mom needs anything,” Dean nodded towards the basement steps and left John to his football.

Dean bowed his head as he reached the bottom of the steps, clearing the duct work to find Mary folding laundry at the long narrow table they used for everything from school projects to writing out Christmas cards.

“I thought that was you,” Mary said pleasantly. “Did your dad tell you lunch was almost ready?”

She dropped the shirt she had finished atop an awkward pile and opened her arms for a hug. Dean scooped her up, probably a little too enthusiastically, but he didn’t care and she didn’t mind. A simple gasp told him she noticed though.

“So--- what’s the occasion?” Mary asked, turning back to the basket.

“Nothing really, just wanted to catch up,” Dean downplayed, grabbing a pair of jeans to help. Neither of them pointed out that they’d see each other the next day for Sunday dinner. Mary welcomed the visit as much as Dean was dreading it.

“Your father had physical therapy yesterday. I don’t think they get paid enough,” Mary conspired with a heavy side eye.

Dean chuckled, “I’m guessing not his at least.”

“And supposedly I’m the stubborn one,” Mary muttered. “If you want to make some sandwiches, I’m almost done down here. I don’t want to spread the soup too thin.”

Dean nodded and handed her the sweater he had folded last. “Sounds good, anything in particular?”

“Just don’t let him trick you into letting him have the salami, his doctor says he needs to watch the fats,” Mary warned.

Dean perched against the edge of the steps, listening. He slapped the banister and headed back upstairs. “On it.”

The kitchen’s layout hadn’t changed in thirty years and Dean quickly set up an assembly line with poultry, condiments, lettuce and tomatoes. He tucked the cheese with the processed deli meat back in the drawer, hiding the temptation from John. But not before stealing a slice for his and Mary’s sandwiches. He set the table, like hundreds of times before. John’s spot was the head of the table, Mary to his left. Dean set his own plate on John’s right, a seat he fought Sam for more often than not.

Dean stirred the pot, which was much more a vat, of chicken noodle soup. John’s approach was announced by the steady clink of his cane on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Dean pulled out John’s chair before settling down to his heaping sandwich and extra large bowl of soup.

John lifted the top tier of his sandwich, judging the contents. “She got to you, didn’t she?”

Dean just chewed purposely and gave John innocent eyes.

“Figures,” John muttered before bellowing through the house. “Mary! Soup’s ready.”

They ate comfortably, fighting the cold outside with the warmth of the familiarity of a shared meal. The grease from the chicken made bubbles in the broth and Dean blew across the surface mixing them back in. Meanwhile Mary made small talk and John teased her about her part time job.

“Well, I need to get out of the house, or we’d kill each other, you know that,” Mary flicked John’s ear as she cleared their bowls.

“How’s that going?” Dean asked, eyes fixed on his mother’s face. Panic clogged his ears at the thought of never seeing her again.

“‘S fine. People are picky, but it isn’t bad for what it is. Better than being behind a desk or answering the phone,” Mary explained of her work at the local sporting goods store. “Friday will be nuts, lots of sales, but it’s not like we would have been doing anything anyway.”

“So, Bobby and Ellen’s on Thursday?” Dean verified.

“Yup, dinner’s at 1. He says you’re on pie duty?” John asked, surprised.

“That I am. Sam’s stuck with sides, so please remind him. I don’t want to show up and only have rolls and turkey,” Dean asked Mary.

“Can do. We’re bringing the---,” Mary started.

“Cranberry sauce,” Dean and John said in unison.

“And the wine!” Mary said in dismay at their laughter. “Jerks.”

John and Dean grinned as Mary rolled her eyes.

“So, was that everything? It seemed like you had something to hash out with us,” John asked Dean, picking up the last of his sandwich.

“Yeah, mostly. I gotta check with Ellen first, but I might be bringing somebody along,” Dean rushed out. He tipped his bowl back, finishing the final dregs.

“A special someone?” Mary asked delicately, looking at John in hope.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dean grunted, standing to grab another sandwich.

“Well, is it somebody we know?” Mary prodded, not trying to be too pushy, but obviously curious. “Dean, why are we just now hearing about this?”

Mary’s tone had shifted to apprehension, Dean felt their silent conversation behind his back as he slapped the ingredients together. He shrugged in response, unable to find a proper jumping off point.

He tried to remain casual, but the dred had clawed back up. Without enough wherewithal to speak, Dean sat back down and ate, drawing out his confession to the point of confusion.

John chuckled at Mary’s suspicion. “He’s nervous. Let the boy get it out.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the phrase. “I’m thirty six, Dad,” he said through a mouthful.

“Is that right? Coulda fooled me.” John tisked his tongue. Mary ignored his teasing tone.

“Dean, what’s the matter? What’s this girl’s problem that’s making you act so--- cagey all the sudden?” Mary asked anxiously. John slipped Mary’s hand into his, silently soothing her as they waited for Dean’s answer.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Dean started, sitting back, and shooting for blase. “Turns out I actually like guys, too. So, uh, there’s no problem with a girl. I just wanted to bring, um, this guy I’ve been seeing, Benny, to Bobby and Ellen’s.”

Mary inhaled and clenched John’s hand. John stopped stroking Mary’s arm and twisted in his seat. Dean exhaled slowly, like a pin prick in a deflating balloon, he couldn’t take any of it back. Dean took a chance and looked out through his lashes, face tilted towards his plate. First to Mary’s blue worry and then a flicker to John’s almost black disbelief.

John swallowed and ducked low enough to force Dean’s eyes onto his. "You tellin' me you take it up the ass, is that what you're sayin?"

"Jesus. John!" Mary reproached. But neither man's glare faltered. The dark challenge in John's eyes caused Dean's lips to turn up in a silent snarl.

Dean finally broke the silence. "You really want me to answer that?"

"I think I have a right to know exactly the kind of man my son is," John countered.

Mary stood abruptly. “He's your son! What's the matter with you?! You asking Sam his jerkin' habits now that he's single, while you're at it?!" She went to the sink, bowing over it as if it would cleanse the images the conversation had conjured.

“Oh, hell, that’s not the point,” John muttered.

Dean had been arrested in high school for drag racing. The whole ride home from the police station he was worried what his dad was gonna do to him once they got home, it was the same quiet rage that had terrified Dean as a child. But it was Mary’s disappointment when they walked in the door that tore into Dean to the point of scarring. He could live with his father’s anger, Sam had taught Dean how to slowly stand up to John over the years.

But Dean didn’t know if he could live in the shadow of Mary’s disappointment. He needed somebody to see him as himself, not just a screw up or a queer.

Dean sighed. "I am your son. But if you can't handle this, Dad. I don't think you have any right to know me anymore." He looked from Mary to John as the last sentence left his mouth. Maybe he was asking too much after all.

Everyone in the room froze. But not even an ultimatum like that could stop John Winchester from digging himself deeper. "Christ, son, Jo really did a number on you, didn't she? Made you turn tail to the other team all together."

"Leave Jo out of this,” Dean spit out as he stood up. “This is about me and who I'm with now." He stalked the long way around the table, shoving chairs in as he went. He approached Mary alone, carefully, one terrified animal to another. "You'd love him, Mom. He cooks, runs his own business, even got an old Harley in the garage."

Mary couldn't hide her tears, but she tried to smile through them for Dean's sake. "Sounds like a catch, sweetie. But what matters is if you love him. You don't need our say so."

"Don't I?" Dean replied sadly before glancing over Mary’s shoulder to John. "You know Jo told me to give you the finger if you couldn’t see how happy I am. How important Benny is to me. And maybe she's right. But I wanted this to work. I wanted to keep the family together. That's why I'm here. The rest is up to you, Old Man."

Dean kissed his mother on the cheek, between murmured reassurances and left without another word to John. He teetered on the brink, somewhere between busting his knuckles against the cold glass of the impala’s window and losing his lunch on the frostbitten ground. Somehow, Dean made it into the solitude of the driver’s seat before he broke down and sobbed. The only saving grace he got was when his mother's voice roared from inside the house.

Dean dragged the salt and snot from his face with a heavy palm and started the engine. He couldn't stay there, but he didn't know where to go either. He just drove.

Dean pulled into the parking lot at The Pearly Gates on autopilot. He’d spent the afternoon equally suppressing and dissecting his conversation with his parents as he kept it even between the lines of two lane country roads. Now, Dean was ready to be somebody else, to make drinks and flirt and just forget everything that had happened.

The college football crowd was winding down, which allowed Dean some time to catch up with the day shift bartenders Garth and Jody. Back before Cas got blindsided with the responsibility of business ownership, Cas, Dean, Ash and Artie would claim a booth near the pool tables and blow their grocery money every weekend. When Sam moved back after law school he and Mick joined the crowd that were regularly praised for paying for Jody’s son’s braces.

Garth had been the first dragged from the friend pool to fill the schedule when Cas’s brother dropped off the face of the earth. Though Garth volunteered, Dean knew it was just out of the goodness of his heart, not a need for extra cash.

“Here he is!” Garth announced Dean’s arrival. Luckily for Dean, Garth was pouring a beer otherwise he would have been wrapped in one of Garth’s spider monkey-like hugs. A few regulars in the corner raised their glasses to Dean in greeting as he passed by with his company smile. Jody whipped by him, fresh out of the stock room with her arms full of their dollar bags of chips they sold to keep from having to run a full kitchen.

“Look who’s early,” Jody exclaimed before dropping the load onto the back counter. “You trying to cut into my time there, Winchester?”

“You know if you ever want more hours, you just gotta ask,” Dean offered suggestively, strolling behind the bar.

Jody sputtered dramatically, “And work nights? No, thank you.”

“It was worth a shot,” Dean replied, shrugging at Garth who knew better.

Jody sighed and cocked her head. “You’re cute, but you’re not that cute.”

Dean ducked his head against the compliment as she patted his arm apologetically.

“Want me to split your tips before you go?” Dean asked, bending out of his jacket.

“That’d be lovely,” Jody answered, sorting the chips by kind. “Garth get’s an extra twenty because Bess and Donna were ‘round.”

“Look at you, Mr. Slick,” Dean teased as he grabbed the old milk bottle filled with mostly singles. Garth blushed.

“You know what they say Dean-o, flattery is everything,” Garth explained. Dean, who routinely had the most tips out of any of the staff, including Bela, just nodded at the quirky dude. Dean doled out their shares and washed up before officially punching in.

Jody was gone as soon as Anna arrived, but Garth waited for Jack to show before leaving her and Dean on their own. It was seven o’clock before Cas arrived instead of his unreliable nephew.

“Everything alright?” Dean asked knowingly as Cas hung his trench coat on a broken notch on the rail beside the server’s station.

“Jack is under the weather,” Cas explained blandly. Dean eyed the windows, taking in the light flurries that danced in the streetlight. “I guess I’ll have to do tonight.”

It was a surprisingly unremarkable shift, the weather kept traffic bearable even after Anna’s shift ended at midnight. Dean walked her out the back to her car, like he always did as the plow eased out of the parking lot.

“You gonna be alright with him for the rest of the night?” Anna whispered before they breached the cold. Her big brown eyes held more mischief than worry.

“Goodnight, Anna,” Dean drew out as he held the door sternly.

“Night, Dean,” Anna chuckled. Dean watched her tiptoe around the icy patches and make it to her old Tahoe. He made sure it started before heading back behind the bar, and three more hours with Castiel.

The speakers were set lower than usual to balance their minimal customers. On his shifts, Dean had always insisted on having control over the musical selection. So when he walked into a pop singer’s version of mopey folk he did a double take before bee lining for the stereo.

“Please, don’t,” Cas’s simply requested from somewhere to Dean’s right. “I kind of like this song, but more importantly one of the customer’s requested a change of station.”

Dean eyed the patrons like suspects in a line up, uncertain who would blaspheme in such a way. No one seemed particularly guilty and he had to let it go. Between drinks, Dean washed glasses in the small sink behind the bar until Cas was finally able to start his nightly paperwork. The last couple paid their tab just after 1:30, leaving them holding their breaths in hope as they started to put up the chairs.

“Is it often this quiet?” Cas wondered aloud, “I don’t recall Saturday’s business to dwindle so.”

Dean smiled to himself; leave it to Cas to look a gift horse of a slow night in the mouth. “No, man, this is not the usual. But, it worked out. And thanks for filling in for the kid, I know you don’t like getting your hands dirty.”

Cas quietly beamed at Dean’s gratitude before pausing at the not so subtle jab at the end. They went through the remaining end of day routine in silence. Dean turned off the faux neon signs in the windows to signal the early close as Cas handled the money. Dean would usually even out the till and split tips with Jack, leaving the deposit for Cas to handle the next day. Instead he was left with cleaning detail as the boss man did the accounting.

Before long Dean was rolling the dirty mop bucket back to the office/store room/ kitchen/ employee area. Exhaustion had eaten at Dean’s internal walls, leaving him on the slippery edge between slap-happy and zombie. He hummed to keep his eyes open, waiting on Cas to finally call it a night and let Dean clock out.

“We don’t talk anymore,” Cas said abruptly, without looking up from the cash machine. Dean’s head shot up, concern furrowing his features. “In fact, I’m prone to think you don’t like me at all, Dean.”

“What do you mean, we’re talking right now,” Dean downplayed defensively. Cas glanced up over his desk, mild surprise evident. Cas always seemed such a mystery to Dean, from his social awkwardness to his blunt observations. Dean had come to envy Cas’s almost innocent lack of need to perform for others, to be anyone but himself. He had forgotten that Cas would read into his demeanor in the uncanniest of ways.

“True, we are. But are we?” Cas typed the code into the safe and waited for the time delayed entry. “We used to hang out, watch football, play pool, or cards even.”

“We’ve got bowling every week, man,” Dean wrung out the mophead and latched it onto the rack on the wall. He was trying to remember the last time he and Cas had fun, just the two of them and couldn’t recall a single occurrence over the past year.

“I miss you. I miss my friend,” Cas replied sadly. “And I don’t know what I did to ruin it, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to.”

Dean closed his eyes and grimaced. “Hey, no, it’s not like that,” Dean started. He walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk, assertive reassurance written all over his face. “Look, I’m tired. Working all week and then coming here is kicking my ass. So I don’t have a lot of free time or brain capacity to hang out like we used to. But I’m doing my best, man.”

Cas looked like a confused puppy, eyes drooping and head tilted. “That isn’t it. There’s something else, something you’re not telling me?”

Dean huffed and shook his head, hands raised in exasperation. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I like you, okay? We’re still--- you know--- buddies.”

“Buddies,” Cas said it like it was a war crime.

“Yeah, man, friends. Do you need me to pull up a dictionary on my phone?!” Dean was getting anxious. He didn’t know what exactly had set Cas down this path of questioning, but he was certain he needed it to end. So much for a quiet night.

After a few weighted stares, Cas squinted and turned them down a different path. “Did me employing you negatively affect our relationship? Should I not have asked that of you?”

“Wait, that would have stopped you?” Dean asked, surprised by Cas’s sudden, if extremely late, realization.

“I wouldn’t knowingly do anything to hurt our friendship, Dean. Has working here hindered you?” Cas asked apologetically.

Dean’s mouth dropped open and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, man. Working here--- everyone is great, don’t get me wrong--- but man I need a break. I wanted to help out here or there, but I’ve got no time for a life if I stay on.”

“I see,” Cas sat back, poorly masking his own discomfort with Dean’s confession. “Look, I know I’m not the best at what I do. But I find it very hard to trust new people. Employees, especially, tend to let me down. I guess--- I guess I’ve relied on you for too long, Dean. I’m sorry if I’ve taken advantage.”

Dean chuckled. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded if you had.”

Missing the joke, Cas continued, “I am taking this conversation as your verbal resignation. I hope you will stay on for the customary two weeks time?”

“You’re serious?” Dean asked, stunned.

“You’re unhappy. I don’t want to cause you anymore grief,” Cas replied simply.

“It wasn’t that bad, Cas.--- But, you gotta do something about Jack. Man up and light a fire under his ass, or just kick him to the curb until he’s ready to live up to the family business. You need to hire people who want to be here,” Dean offered.

Cas nodded dejectedly. “I know, I just have an awful gauge for people’s reliability from a simple interview. And past employers rarely ‘spill the tea’ as Bela would say.”

Dean giggled, but stopped himself once he saw the worry in Cas’ eyes. “Hey, what if somebody does the interviews for you? I bet Jody would weed out the bad seeds before their asses ever hit the bar stool.”

Cas was surprised by that option. “That could work. She is very intimidating.”

“Right?!” Dean exclaimed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “So, we’re really doing this? Two weeks and I’m out?”

“Yes, Dean. You’ve done more than I should have asked of you.” Cas stood and extended his hand.

Dean grabbed it and pulled Cas in for a hug, their bound hands stuck between them. “Thanks, man. But, I’m glad it worked out. It will work out. This is gonna be good.”

“And we’ll---,” Cas asked as they broke apart.

“We’ll still be friends. Hell, if I’m free maybe we can reclaim our old table every once in a while,” Dean offered, patting Cas’s shoulder. A genuine smile crept across Dean’s face for the first time all day.

“I’d like that,” Cas admitted as the safe alerted his time was up.

The next morning, Sam held the door for Dean who was smirking as they walked in. Exhausted and needing the comfort of his favorite diner to fill his empty stomach, Dean agreed to Sunday breakfast with a seemingly none-the-wiser Sam, certain he'd be missing their weekly dinner with his parents for possibly the first time.

"Not that one. Let's see if there's a spot in the back," Sam muttered as Dean tried sitting in the first open booth he saw.

"What? Why?" Dean groaned, but straightened up and followed Sam passed the bustling counter.

Sam lifted his chin and motioned Dean to the second to last spot. Slightly annoyed, Dean threw himself onto the bench seat, only to have Sam slide beside him, caging him in.

"Glad you boys could make it," the all too familiar drawl of their father's voice greeted them from across the table.

Dean looked at Sam and cursed beneath his breath. Sam had the nerve to look guilty, but his puppy dog eyes didn't hold an ounce of potency now.

"Wow, Dad, I had no idea you'd be here. Funny coincidence, hey, Sammy?" Dean snarked.

"Shut up," Sam grumbled.

"I made him drag you here, Dean. So if you wanna be pissed, be pissed at me," John began. "I ordered your usuals, to give us some privacy. It seems we need to talk."

Tagging: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @fookinghelljensensthighs @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @crashdevlin @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary @itmighthavebeenintentional @thoughtslikeaminefield @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6 @cracksinthewalls @atc74

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Vera Vota (Deity!Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)- Prologue: Vera Vota & Chapter One: A Strange Accent

Summary: The god of wishes, known to humans as Maxwell Lord, is looking for entertainment and chaos. It’s been a while since he meddled with the humans, and he crafts the perfect package for a disaster. Choosing the first kind person he sees (reader), he bestows the Dreamstone to the mortal in an attempt to bring some destruction to the world. After all, he believes man is inherently evil. Maxwell will soon learn: is man truly evil, or do the pure of heart exist out there?

WC: 537 (Prologue), 2k (Chapter One)

Warnings: none (Prologue), Maxwell Lord being chaotic and a little forward (Chapter One), separate ratings will apply as new chapters are released

A/N: Well! Here we are! This will be my first series and I can’t wait for everyone to read it. Thank you so much to @poesflygirl, @ilikechocolatemilkh, and @mandoalorian for your help and listening to my endless rambles!

Prologue: Vera Vota (Latin, “wishes come true”)

He was looking for chaos. When wasn’t he? As the gods often did, he turned to humanity for entertainment. It had felt like eons since he had meddled with the humans, creating fool’s gold to mess with them. What could he do? What could throw a wrench into the machine of humankind?

It had to be something of his own devising. He couldn’t use something that some other god had created, nor could he use something made by a human. But it needed power, enough to control all of their world. He couldn’t manipulate a country at a time… no, for maximum effect, he needed to start with just one human.

The human would have to be trusting, someone at least somewhat good. It would be easier to trick a naive human into cooperation than it would be to find one willing to follow through once they knew of his plan.

Now, what could he do? What could one randomly selected human do to bring a sense of panic across their measly globe? It had to be some kind of weapon. Not the giant bombs that humanity had already created. Nothing destructive in a physical way. Something that would make the humans… wish. He was the god of wishes, after all.

What if… no, he thought. That wouldn’t work… or would it?

The random human, they would be given something so powerful to turn them into a superhuman. They would be granted some ultimate power, and he would use their power as his little game.

He hummed and tapped his fingers on the pyrite throne beneath him, stirring the infant griffin resting on his shoulder. “Hello, my dear,” he murmured. “No need to worry. Just your father thinking,” he told the little thing and stroked its tiny wings.

He crossed his legs and gazed at the marble ceiling, letting his brain come up with any idea he could. Humans were fools, he knew. But what if…

Using his power, he conjured a token. He wasn’t sure what it would be; he allowed the power to choose something in a perfect shape for it. He smiled as he opened his eyes. Hovering between his hands was a warm orange stone, a little bit of rock at the base. A dream stone, he nodded. He took the object in his hands and brought it to his lips, breathing power into it.

What power, he wondered, will bring humankind to their knees? What will they be willing to allow in? What did humans… want?

That was the answer, he realized and he breathed the power of the wish into the stone, now faintly glowing inside. No two humans wanted the same thing. The stone could grant wishes. But that wasn’t enough. If the stone could only grant wishes, it would only cause wonderful things. No, the stone had to do something else… like take something in return. His hot breath made the crystal glow brighter, even warming in his hands.

“Perfect,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the stone in his hands. The glowing stopped, and the stone returned to its cool temperature of before, matching the ambient air around it. He grinned into the crystal, still holding it to his face. It is time for the chaos to begin.

Chapter 1: A Strange Accent

You aggressively jam the walk button, shoving your hands inside of your sweater again. It’s quite chilly outside, the coldest day of the fall so far, and you want nothing more than to get indoors as soon as possible. You hadn’t expected it to get cold and so you were vastly unprepared as you walked home from work, wrapping the cardigan tighter around your body. You scurry across the street, sighing as you open the door to your favorite coffee shop and are immediately flooded with warmth and the scent of espresso.

Sighing, you wander towards the counter to place your order, your face forming a frown as you notice there’s someone in line. The shop is usually desolate at this hour, just a short time before they close for the night. People rarely want coffee this late, but you need it tonight. It was a long day at the office, and you had been caught up in editing a manuscript when you looked up and discovered it was dark.

The man is taking a while to order, and you cross your arms as you stand behind him and wait. His voice has an odd lilt to it, and you listen to the tone as he tells the barista what he wants. Your brow furrows in concentration, trying to place his accent. It sounds like his native tongue is some kind of romance language, maybe Spanish or Portuguese. Unintentionally, you lose yourself in the drone of the man’s voice.

You’re jilted from your state of near mesmerization as he turns and makes eye contact with you. Almost gasping, you bite on your lip. He must’ve noticed you staring at him in some reflection, or noticed your eavesdropping, you think, but he cuts your thoughts off in your tracks. “Excuse me, miss. Do you have a dollar bill?” he asks in that enchanting voice, his eyes trained on yours, bulging from the interruption.

Oh, she’s absolutely perfect, Maxwell thinks to himself, a small smile on his face. He’s always loved the humans that are taken aback by him, the humans attracted to him. It strokes his ego, plain and simple.

You nod and open your purse, rummaging for a bill without a hesitation. You’re a helpful person, this is no different, you tell yourself. You frequently share your spare change with the homeless folks on the streets of D.C. as you walk to work. If a stranger simply asks for a dollar, you oblige. It has nothing to do with how entranced by this man you find yourself.

As you hand him the bill, you look up and over his torso and face. He’s wearing a large pinstriped suit and a coat on top of it, fitting the fashion of the current year. His skin is a beautiful color, indescribable really. His face has deep lines but they fit him, and his eyes are a lovely chocolate brown. His hair seems to be highlighted; you find that odd, but don’t comment. It works on him, a layer of gold above a similar chocolate brown to his eyes. His eyes meet yours again and he smiles. “Thank you, miss…” he trails off and raises an eyebrow, asking for your name.

You tell him with a nod and he takes your hand in his, kissing the knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. No ring on the wedding finger, good. “You’re welcome. I mean, it’s a dollar,” you ramble and shrug a little, feeling the butterflies stir in your stomach at his gaze.

He drops your hand gently and smiles. “Still, very generous. Thank you.” He nods and turns back to the barista, who asks for his name. The man takes a moment, an almost suspicious amount of time, before feigning that he didn’t hear her. “Maxwell,” he says slowly, his voice as sweet and shimmering as the golden color of honey.

It’s a name that fits the man. Plenty of men went by Max. Hell, it’s 1984, that’s one of the most common names, you think to yourself. But Maxwell holds a different tone. It’s elegant, refined. Very much like the man. He pays her and turns to you once more. “Could I have the honor of sitting with such a kind woman while we drink our coffee?” he offers.

Despite your beauty, you’re not very used to flirtation. It makes your heart skip a little bit in your chest to hear the words, especially from such a gorgeous man. You had planned on taking your coffee to go, but his offer makes you weak at the knees. “I’d like that,” you nod and he points to a nearby table, informing you that that’s where he’ll be. You nod and order from the barista, the one you’ve known for a while now, and she gives you an excited little smile.

After you order, you sit across from Maxwell at the small table. “So, what brings you here this late?” you ask him, genuinely curious.

He shrugs. “Something inside of me told me I needed a cappuccino, I suppose,” he shrugs, eliciting a small giggle from the both of you. God, he’s beautiful, you think to yourself as you look at him. You prop your chin on your palm as you look over at the man, waiting for the real answer. “What about yourself?” he asks.

You look at him with curiosity, surprised he never gave a real reason. “Well,” you chuckle, fidgeting with your hair with your free hand, “I stayed far later than I was supposed to at the office. I’m an editor, and I have this novel I need to finish looking over by tomorrow morning. I was working on it all day, since I forgot about it, but then I looked at the clock and it was 7:30. I need to keep working on it, though, so I figured I’d drop by this place for some espresso.” Normally you’d never babble like this, but something in his behavior compels you to spill everything. “I need to get home and finish it, so I need something to keep me up while I do it.”

Maxwell’s expression droops a little. “Don’t let me keep you,” he says, tilting his head a little. “If you need to get home and work on it, do it.” He presents you the easy out, allowing you to leave right now. You don’t take it, and he smiles a little to himself. You’re the person, he decides then and there.

“No, no. I needed a break. It hurts my head to stare at that tiny writing for too long,” you chuckle and shake your head. “It was perfect timing for me.”

“Me too,” he says, trying to hold the excitement back from his smile. His first try, his first descent to Earth on his little mission, and he finds the perfect mark. The barista calls out your names and you scoot your chair back to move but he holds out a hand. “No, allow me,” he says with a gentlemanly gesture, his hand resting on your shoulder for a moment.

Maxwell returns with two porcelain mugs on matching white saucers, setting your drink in front of you. Your macchiato steams enticingly and it takes all of your effort to hold back from grabbing the hot drink and downing it, letting the warmth radiate through your core. Instead, you cup the mug with both hands, sighing as it warms your cold fingers. You look over at his drink, a cappuccino. It’s fitting, you think, bringing the coffee close to your face and letting the steam warm your frost-chilled nose.

The two of you converse for a while. It’s less conversation, you realize after a moment, and more of the two of you discussing your life. You stop once you realize that. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Tell me about yourself,” you say and change the topic, sipping the last of your macchiato and setting the empty mug back down on the saucer.

Maxwell sighs and pushes his wavy gold hair from his eyes. “Are you a religious woman?” He asks.

How abrupt, you think to yourself, and shake your head. “This is about you-”

“It will be, but answer that first.” His response is odd and your throat goes dry. Did you just find yourself extremely attracted to this man only for him to start pitching Scientology to you or something? You shake your head again. “Is that no, you’re non-religious, or no as in you’re an atheist?” he asks. This situation is increasingly odd, and you gather your cardigan around yourself. “Not religious, just don’t have thoughts on that. If you’ll excuse me-” you start to sling your purse across your shoulder but he puts a hand on yours, stopping you, calling your name.

He looks into your eyes, and you can’t quite read them, but his expression is certainly odd. “Good. I…” he trails off. “I’m a deity,” he admits to you.

You snort a laugh at that. “Okay, and I’m secretly the heir to Atlantis. Thanks for the conversation, Maxwell, but-”

“Watch,” he commands you, and you follow as he brings his fingers to the edge of your mug. Your mind races suddenly; did he spike it? Are you about to get murdered? He traces a finger around the rim and suddenly, the mug is refilled with a steaming macchiato. You blink in confusion. “There’s no way…” you trail off, murmuring, staring at the cup and sitting again. You lift the mug, feeling the heat radiating through the porcelain. You look up at him and he has a small smile.

“What else do you want me to do to prove it?” He asks.

You bite your lip and look down. “Tell me my childhood dog’s name.”

He chuckles and leans back in his seat. “I’m not omniscient. I’m the god of wishes, my dear,” he smiles, and you notice there’s a glint of gold shining through the previously solid brown irises in his eyes. “Tell me to do something, and I can do it.”

This is terrifying, you have to admit, but it’s real. It has to be. There’s no other explanation for that. “You just refilled my mug. Make it tea.”

“You have to wish for it,” he tells you, face clearly showing he’s getting pleasure from showing off his powers to you. “Touch me and wish for it.”

Groaning, you put your hand on top of his. “I wish for you to change this coffee to tea,” you say, fed up with his mood.

The man nods and the foamy brown contents of the mug become a clear green tea. You swallow hard as you look down at it, in disbelief. “Go on, try it,” he tells you, a smirk on his face.

“How do I know you didn’t do something to it? That it doesn’t have drugs in it?”

“I give you my word.”

It still scares you, but you lift the mug with shaky hands and sip it. It’s green tea, plain and simple.

“Since you gave me that dollar,” he explains, “I am indebted to you. I have a gift I believe you will want. A gift that will allow you to fulfill your wildest dreams.”

You narrow your eyes. “That doesn’t sound worth a dollar.”

Maxwell chuckles at that. “It’s not the dollar; it’s the fact that you gave it to me so willingly. You are a worthy human of this, what I am going to give you.”

This doesn’t make sense. You shake your head. “No, no thank you. I can’t- no.”

“Yes. This is for you,” he tells you, and out of nowhere, he’s holding an amber-colored crystal. “As a gift of my thanks.” You reluctantly take it from him, admiring it, unsure of what it does, what it is. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. “This is the Dreamstone.”

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84 fanfiction

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