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reidingmelodies · 4 years ago

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The Luckiest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Fluff Word Count: 2k Includes: Dad Spencer, Children, Pregnancy A/N: I wrote this one for @anxiousblanketqueen’s birthday challenge: Happy Birthday, Jill! ♡ I hope you have an absolutely amazing day!! Main Masterlist

“What’s this, Daddy?” Spencer turned, eyes finding his daughter holding the scrapbook Penelope made for your anniversary a few months prior. The book held your most cherished memories: from your first meeting to your first dates, to your marriage and the birth of your children.

“Auntie P made that for us, bug,” he explained, bending down to clear the pile of blocks on the floor to make way for her little feet. She bounded towards him, the book dangling from her arms while she climbed next to him on the couch.

Big brown eyes similar to his own looked up at him, her little lip sticking out in a pout as she pushed the book towards him in a silent question.

She was only five, but she was fully aware that he was incapable of saying no to her; after all, she learned the puppy dog pout from its creator: his wife.

“Come here, love,” he situated his daughter on his lap, laying a gentle kiss on her hairline before opening the book to the first page.

“Is that Mommy?” her fingers moved to trace along the first photo, a still of you and Spencer at Derek and Penelope’s wedding seven years prior. Your eyes were focused off frame, gaze solely fixated on the couple’s first dance, but Spencer’s were glued to your every move.

It was your very first meeting, years of Penelope trying to set Spencer up with her high school best friend had failed up until that point. Plans to go to bars were halted by last minute cases in different cities, parties in Penelope’s apartment were missed because you had a date lined up, lunch dates with Penelope where she hoped you would finally meet Spencer were ruined because he wouldn’t leave his desk.

Years and years of trying to get you two to meet, and all it took was her and Derek getting married.

If she knew it would have been that easy, she would have gotten hitched years ago.

As luck would have it, you and Spencer had somehow narrowly avoided each other during wedding planning as well. It was as though the universe had something against you, as if all the signs were screaming that you weren’t meant to be. But then, on the night the stars aligned for Derek and Penelope the same happened for you, your pre-planned seating arrangement leading you directly into Spencer’s arms and proving the universe wrong.

It was that night that two perfect strangers became stakeholders in one another’s lives, the night when two hearts found the piece that had been missing for too long. Neither of you knew it then, but a few shared conversations and lingering glances over dinner were enough to change your lives.

“Yeah,” Spencer whispered, smiling at your daughter. “That’s Mommy”.

And like their words summoned your presence, the front door opened and you walked in, your two year old son’s hand gripped around two of your fingers while your purse hung from your free arm.

“Mommy!” your daughter jumped from her position on Spencer’s lap to wrap her arms around your legs, your body bending to place a series of kisses against her head.

“Hi, Sweet Pea! Did you have a good time with Daddy?”

“Mm-hmm!” you watched her pigtails bounce as she twirled, her hand moving to hold her brother’s as she walked him towards a tower in the center of the room. “We played with blocks and read books and looked at a pretty picture of you!”

“Wow! What picture was it?” but alas, your question fell short on your daughter’s ears, her attention long gone and instead focused on teaching her brother the right way to build a tower.

And honestly, as far as you were concerned that was perfectly okay. Any moment they were getting along without tears or screams was a win in your book.

“We were looking at the album Penelope made us,” Spencer’s voice carried over the sound of your children’s giggles and you swiftly moved to sit next to him on the couch, thigh to thigh while your head rested against his shoulder. “We made it through the first picture before you guys came home”.

You placed a gentle kiss against his shoulder where you laid, eyes scanning the photo in question. It was one of your favorite nights, but it paled in comparison to the picture on the next page.

“Remember that night?” you asked, pointing at the photo you had been eyeing. It was a blurry mess to put it lightly, Spencer’s hand holding the disposable camera at an odd angle while you attacked his cheeks with kisses until a trail of lipstick was left in your wake.

You were young, in love, and inseparable- a blurry photo was a small price to pay for being with him.

“How could I forget,” Spencer chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he examined the picture, “I got off the jet at 11 PM and headed to your place for a midnight picnic. We were only dating for three weeks and JJ thought it was weird to go to your place so late, but I didn’t care. Did you think it was weird?”

You snuggled closer to him, the hitch at the end of his question cluing you into the fact that he was nervous you did. “If you didn’t come over I most certainly would have went to your place- I hated being away from you, I still do now”.

You were rewarded with a kiss to your palm before Spencer continued to flip through the pages in a comfortable silence, your life together thus far being pieced together with every new picture.

From movie nights cuddled up on the floor of Derek and Penelope’s living room, to office holiday parties where you walked around with your pinkies intertwined, to stolen kisses at happy hour and café dates where you both sported espresso foam mustaches.

With the next flip of the page, you watched as your smiles grew wider in each photo with the addition of a ring on your left hand. There were pictures of Spencer down on one knee at your favorite park thanks to Penelope’s hidden vantage point behind a set of trees a few feet away.

The sky was a cerulean blue, yellow and pink tulips in full bloom at your feet, but in that moment, with Spencer kneeling in front of you and the most beautiful declarations of love falling from his lips nothing was visible but him.

Another flip of a page and yet another moment when nothing mattered but Spencer was on full display- your wedding day. His arms were looped around your waist as you danced in front of your family and friends, your smiles the widest they’d ever been. The night was filled with love filled glances and silent assertions of love fit for two in a room bursting with joy, each and every one caught on camera thanks to Penelope’s dedication to capturing one of her favorite love stories in action.

A series of selfies followed in the next few pages, each one a picture you had sent Penelope during your honeymoon as proof you weren’t always locked away in your hotel room. Spencer was sporting a sunglasses tan in each photo while you were sporting a smirk, each picture reminding you of the vacation that gave you one of your favorite gifts yet nine months later: your daughter.

You looked up from the album to glance in her direction, your lips curling into a smile as you watched her separate the blocks into color coded piles much to her younger brother’s amusement. With each passing day she reminded you more and more of Spencer, and it was by far one of your favorite journeys to witness.

Your focus shifted back to the book in Spencer’s hands, weekly progress photos of your stomach’s growth (which Spencer was determined to capture in all its glory) gracing the pages along with ultrasounds, memories from your baby shower, and pictures of Spencer’s hands constantly flitting over your lower belly. His head rested gently on your middle in each one, his face the picture of happiness as he whispered bedtime stories and facts about space, completely oblivious to everything but you and your daughter.

You watched as the baby you had spent months dreaming about came to life in pictures, her features the perfect mixture of you and Spencer from the moment she was placed in your hands. With each passing picture the bags under both of your eyes grew bigger, but your smiles grew wider. Images of her firsts graced the pages: the first time she sat up, the first time she ate solid foods, the first time she said dada (and the tears in Spencer’s eyes when he heard it), her first steps, her first day of school.

And then one made way for two, your son joining the midst of photos and bringing an endless amount of love and joy to your family. Much like your daughter, he reminded you of Spencer: he was inquisitive- curious eyes always studying his surroundings, his hand always finding comfort in yours just like his father.

Pictures of his firsts graced the pages much like your daughter’s, except this time the first time he sat up he was accompanied by a beaming sister, when he said mama for the first time it was you who was in tears, and when he took his first steps he walked straight into Spencer’s open arms.

The book was a picture-perfect testament to your love, one of your most prized possessions, but there was one thing missing.

“I love the life we built together,” Spencer whispered in your direction, his fingers tracing your side as he thought about how lucky he was. How lucky was he that he went from a man destined to live a solitary life to a man with a wonderful wife and two children made from love?

“I love it, too,” you murmured as your hand moved to reach for your purse, “but there’s one thing we’re missing”.

You watched as Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes scanning the empty pages at the end of the book. “I know the pictures are a little out of date, we can order some more this weekend to fill the empty pages though”, he stated as his gaze found yours to see if that was the answer you were looking for.

“We definitely can,” you nodded, removing an item from your purse and unsticking the scrapbook pages to place it in the middle. Once you were satisfied with its placement, you adjusted the top sheet before holding both of Spencer’s hands in yours, “but we can start with this”.

The previously blank page was now the home of your very first ultrasound photo for your third baby, a surprise you had confirmed earlier that morning at your doctor’s appointment. You watched as Spencer’s eyebrows shot up, his face breaking into a smile while his eyes filled with tears.

“Really?” his voice was so soft, you were sure you would have missed it if you weren’t sitting directly next to him.

“Really, really,” you confirmed, your left hand moving to grasp his jaw as you pulled his face closer to yours.

“Are you excited?” you whispered, fully aware that the answer was yes but craving confirmation.

With your question, a tear escaped his lash line, trailing down his cheek and making its way to a beaming smile that rivaled the ones you had seen in the scrapbook.

He nodded, at a complete loss for words as he closed the gap between you and let his feelings out in a kiss. It was a kiss filled to the brim with love, happiness, and appreciativeness.

And in that moment, there was only one coherent thought on his mind as he listened to his children’s giggles in the background and felt the weight of your love against his lips: How lucky was he that he went from a man destined to live a solitary life to a man with a wonderful wife and three children made from love?

The luckiest man alive, that was for sure.

***

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breathings-of-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Stuck on You (Levi Ackerman x Childhood Friend! Reader)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just want to preface by saying that this is a TWO (maybe a three if i decide to write an epilogue drabble) PART SERIES, and I have just a few more scenes to write before I can post it! I don’t expect this one to do so well, to be honest, but it’s been so long since I’ve written anything I’m proud of and I think I’m happy with how this turned out. So yes, stay tuned for part 2 which i will link at the end once it is posted. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, season one/no regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 3.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 years ago

“Why is it that you always seem to be on my case the most?” Your frustration was obvious and your patience dissipated, feet shuffling in their spot as you finally turned to face him. “You never nag Isabel this much.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t respond, scanning your body for injuries. After asserting that you were indeed okay, he stepped over the unconscious man who laid on the ground, jaw set in anger as he walked forwards until he was so close you had to tilt your head slightly to keep eye contact.

Your snappy behavior was uncharacteristic. It only fueled his temper. The raven shook his head in disapproval, trying to keep his anger in check as you glared at him defiantly.

“Isabel doesn’t make such careless mistakes,” he pointed out coldly. “You almost got yourself hurt, (Y/N)! What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up to cover your ass?”

The both of you stood there in silence for several minutes, gazing at each other and listening to your uneven breathing. His face, unlike so many others, never really did reveal everything he was thinking. Feeling. You were dared to search for something else in his steady gaze besides disappointment, but for once, you could not tell what you saw. It was infuriating, humiliating, and hurtful.

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a brain inside your thick fucking skull.”

His harsh words didn’t normally cut you, but this time you flinched, looking away from Levi as all the fight drained out of you.

 Wearing your jewelry out at night was a careless mistake, that you could admit. What was hard to swallow was the fact that you had just been mugged, and nearly assaulted, yet all Levi could do was find the time to scold you, not seeming to care at all if you were shaken up by what happened.

It didn’t scare you that the other man’s hands found their way onto your skin. It didn’t scare you that something bad could have happened had Levi not knocked him out. You weren’t afraid of any of it; you were afraid that all the raven-haired man could see you for were your mistakes.

“So you think I’m a burden then?” you asked, choking up.

Your change in tone caught Levi’s attention. You suddenly looked smaller, and more vulnerable than the last time he looked at you. He sighed again, shaking his head softly. It took all your strength not to shy away from his fingers as they threaded through your hair, stopping on your shoulder and tugging you against him. You let Levi do it nonetheless, knowing this was his way of saying sorry; knowing this was his way of saying: “I’m tough on you because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You pressed your ear against his beating heart, letting the sound soothe you.

“No, brat. I don’t think that. Let’s just go home, and forget about it,” his voice was more gentle this time.

You sniffled and nodded, chest bursting as Levi placed a feather light kiss on the top of your head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You never thought you’d miss the Underground. Especially when taking into consideration the miserable days after Levi, Isabel, and Farlan took that fateful deal, and were forced to leave you behind.

Your feelings on the matter were conflicted, of course, but you were relieved and happy that the people who mattered most had such a big opportunity. They didn’t need to see you crying, nor hear about how scared you were to be by yourself. Each one deserved better than that, so you put on a brave face as they reassured you over and over that they’d come back. You beamed as brightly as you could, sending them off with words of encouragement as you continued fighting off the lingering feeling of dread as they left.

You didn’t want to be a nuisance. Never wanted to be the reason they’d hold themselves back.

Although he didn’t show it, Levi took it the hardest. He implored you to stay alive, in a scolding tone that he only ever used when he was worried. You could hold your own, but weren’t a fighter like the other three. The stern male had only ever been thankful of your gentle nature in the past, surprised to be cursing it now that he couldn’t protect you. But for him, you’d try your hardest, knowing that with a little faith and patience, you could be reunited in the future.

The goodbye had been bittersweet, your lips slotting against his for the very first time. In a way, the way he kissed you seemed more like a promise than a farewell. His arms were wrapped around you all night, warmth lulling you to a sleep that otherwise, would never have been able to claim you.

Parting afterwards the following morning became all the more difficult because of it.

When Levi pulled a few strings with his newfound respected status and got the military to sponsor your citizenship, you were over the moon. Becoming a soldier was the last thing you expected out of your life, but wherever Levi and the others went, you would gladly follow. You felt at home again, throwing your arms around the man for the first time in months and giggling at the fact that while he accepted the gesture and patted your head awkwardly, his lack of affection never changed.

But you were quickly learning that the ideological existence that lived right above your head was just an illusion. You came only to find your friends dead, and Levi more closed off to you than he’d ever been before. Up here, things were far from perfect, and as time went on, you instead yearned for the past if only to appreciate it better a second time around. And although things slowly got better, life was not yet finished throwing its hardships your way.

The last person you had left slowly became out of reach, as time apart inevitably distanced the two of you and gave someone else the opportunity to fill that hole in his heart.  

Reality, you found, was much crueler under the blue of the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You don’t have to deny it, Levi. I know you better than anyone. I see the way you look at her,” you whispered, wringing your hands together in a feeble attempt to rid of the painful churn in your stomach. “I see it because you used to look at me that way.”  

It was admirable, at least, the effort you put in to keep your voice even. But the silence that followed those broken words was pitiful. The silence made it even more difficult to meet the gaze of the man in front of you. Levi had every opportunity to deny the truth of your burning statement; to bring you back into his arms and reaffirm his love like he used to. Like he would if maybe things were different.

You knew, he had no desire to do that now. Instead, the Captain’s eyes screwed shut and a light sigh escaped his perfect lips, the warmth of it tingling your skin. It was nostalgic, almost, being alone with Levi like this. His face was nearer to yours then it had been in months, enough so that you could make out every tiny detail. The irony of it seemed mocking: for once, you couldn’t bear to look at him. Not that you needed to, with every feature of his sure to forever haunt your memory.

But now all you could see were the interactions they had. Your vision consisted of watching as their bond and understanding grew. It was created in such a short amount of time, but hardly unpredictable with the amount of time Levi and Petra spent together. Even if Levi himself had not realized it, for you, it was plain as day. You knew him better than anyone. Could see that there was no pain in Levi’s eyes when he looked at her. Afterall, unlike you, Petra wasn’t a painful reminder of the past.

Despite his physical closeness, this was the most detached you’ve ever felt from the male. The space between you was strange and unfamiliar. Lonely and cold.

At your words, he exhaled through his nostrils.  

“I would never be unfaithful, (Y/N). I never have been,” he spoke firmly, in that certain tone of speaking only he could manage. “I promised I would never leave you.”

A tear spilled down your cheek, despite your best brave face. It was too much to handle, even for a calloused girl like you. Because despite everything, Levi had always been there. It seemed scary to have life any other way.

Said man took your hand gently, handling it like porcelain. It wasn’t until his skin touched yours that you realized your fingers were shaking, and your facade was crumbling. His gesture was another reminder of what once was. The familiarity of his skin a testament to all the time spent simply existing with one another.

How did it come to this?

“A lot has changed since then, it seems,” you laughed softly, for once pulling away from his touch. “I bet you can’t even look at me without thinking about those two, huh?”

You never once thought it was his fault. Even if you told him that, you knew Levi would always take accountability. Knew he would blame himself for taking Isabel and Farlan away from you. You should have seen this coming. It was inevitable that your love would be tainted, and that he’d find it somewhere else, even if it was unintentional.

“(Y/N), wait—“ there was a small panic that awoke in the raven’s steely eyes that only those who truly knew him would be able to detect.  

“—You know how I feel about you, don't you? I want to be the one who you'd wake up next to every morning. The person you'd trust enough to spill all your secrets to, the one you want to hold close, the one who would make it hurt too much to ever let go. I want to be the person who can make you smile, or laugh until you can't breathe. Your first and last thought of the day, and the one you wonder about even when they’re not around.”

You swallowed a whimper, fists clenched at your sides as your restraint came undone. It was all you’d ever wanted since you were small and starving and Levi was all you had to hold onto.

"But more than anything I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

And because that’s how much I love you.

“I’d spent the rest of my life with you, if you asked me to,” the stoic Captain stated, as simply and mindlessly as if reciting the weather.

You knew it was true. You also knew better than to let your mind wander to that fantasy, or to let a world come into fruition in which you stopped Levi from pursuing his happiness; held back simply because his loyalty knew no bounds. You refused to be that selfish. You’d rather die a miserable death, a thousand times over. Rather endure this anguish for as long as it resided in your heart then watch his indifference turn to hatred as years of a one-sided relationship droned on and on.

He doesn’t want you anymore.

“I know, Levi.” You paused for a long moment. “Petra's wonderful. I don't hate either of you, I want you to remember that."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying desperately to forget the feeling of Levi’s lips on your skin, your face against his chest. The warmth between your ribs or the butterflies in your stomach, or the fireworks of passion that only he could make you feel. Tried to forget the rare but special, secret words of affirmation only your ears got to hear, and the goosebumps they’d send across your skin.

You wanted to erase it all, if only to make it easier to walk away with the knowledge you’d never feel any of that again.

It was pathetic.

There wasn’t anything left to be said. So with the task near impossible, looked at your lover, your best friend, your rock, your Levi, and turned away.

You only managed three steps before a voice followed you and a hand closed around your wrist.

“Is this what you want?” He sounded apathetic, but you knew better. His underlying worry only made the pain feel worse.

“I don’t know.” At the very least, you were honest.

"Will I see you again?"

As adaptable as he was, Levi was never a fan of the unconventionality that was “change.” He was never surprised, quick to go with the flow, even if he preferred certainty and steadiness.

This conversation, though, was one he never expected.

"Of course," you forced a tiny smile, knowing it was more convincing than it felt. "I just need a breather. I'll be back for dinner." The words tasted bitter in your mouth.

That was the first and only lie you'd ever tell Levi Ackerman, having handed in your resignation papers to Erwin just yesterday.

Forgive me, Levi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snow fluttered down from the sky, coating the local shops and roofs of buildings with a thick, white blanket. Merchants and store owners alike grumbled their disapproval, bustling to sweep the front of their shops. The air was crisp and biting, yet you relished in the feeling and absorbed the atmosphere. Drunk garrison soldiers loitered around merrily, cheeks flushed from alcohol, catching the flakes in their hair and occasionally slipping on hidden ice in their drunken stupor. It made you chuckle softly, the residences of Wall Roses’ inconvenience the source of your contentment-- this was your first time seeing snow, the real thing a thousand times better than anything you read about in any book.

You strolled through the marketplace, a basket holding bread, dried meats, cheese, and several fruits resting in the crook of your elbow. Your coin purse felt lighter than it had that morning, yet you carried on nonetheless, curious as to what Wall Rose had to offer. Children ran past you, throwing snowballs at each other and nearly running into you because of their haste. The sight made you grin as one of them bumped into one of the street market’s booths, knocking over a few items as he went.

The woman behind the counter chastised them, her shouts growing louder when they barely spared her a glance and blended into the crowd of shoppers. Nick nacks and books were left scattered in their wake, askew on the cobblestone ground.

“Need help, ma’am?,” you asked her, picking up the objects from the ground.

“Thank you, dearie,” she sighed gratefully, taking them from your hands. “Kids these days, so reckless and always in such a hurry.”

You laughed airily, mirth swimming in your eyes.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t steal anything,” you joked, reminiscing about your own thieving past. Your attention turned towards the noting the soldiers now dozing off on top of their card table nearby, tutting their behavior lightheartedly. “Levi, if only the police were like that back when we--”

Out of habit, you turned around to meet his gaze, heart clenching when you remembered he wasn’t there. Your fists clenched to prevent you from smacking yourself at your carelessness. He’s not here, dumbass.

“What was that, hun?” the woman behind the counter inquired, preoccupied in sorting her things.

You put on your best smile, shaking your head before your thoughts could fill with images of a certain raven-haired, steele-eyed, heart-stopping male. The back of your eyes stung, the momentary joy of your first real winter quickly fading away.

“Nothing important.”

This is for the best, (Y/N). You’ve only ever gotten in the way, his whole life. Let the man be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few years since that last encounter with him. Part of you still wondered if Levi tried looking for you after realizing your true intentions of never coming back. You hoped he didn't, imagining instead that he'd made the most of the opportunity you'd given him. Prayed that it wasn't all for naught and he instead pursued what (or who) truly made him happy, instead of worrying about other people. In truth, you became content with life, learning to look back on memories fondly and being thankful for their existence.

Residing above ground was enough reason to be grateful in itself, and you did your best to make the most of it. Your days were now spent in ways that paid tribute to your humble beginnings: individuals from the underground who managed to secure citizenship to the surface were put into your care. You helped men, women, and children alike assimilate into living on the surface, which included introducing the area, and assisting in finding housing and jobs. It was rewarding work, but more than anything, reminiscent to be able to see the wonder when their eyes meet the clouds for the very first time. The flickers of hope from your clients were things you carried with you every day. Your chosen profession left plenty of free time, however, as it was relatively rare for individuals to pay the hefty toll of climbing up those stairs.

Your life was average, and for the most part, uneventful. The quietness that accompanied mediocrity proved to be comforting, however. It was a far cry from the days of constantly looking over your shoulder and needing to carry a knife in your boot, just in case.

At first, it was difficult not to cry at the thought of the stoic, raven-haired Ackerman. The heartache weighed down in your chest for a good amount of time. The simplest things reminded you of Levi, but after a while, instances where he’d cross your mind became fewer and further between. With a nicer home than anything you previously owned, a livable income, and an overall peaceful existence, you didn’t have any regrets.

At least, that was what you told yourself until you heard the news.

On off days you worked as a waitress at one of the many taverns within Wall Rose. Large tips were one of the many perks that drew you in originally. The chatter of the customers and frequent bar-goers was a welcome ambience, and an opportunity for you to combat the occasional feeling of loneliness.

Occasionally, Scout Regiment gossip would filter through, especially about Humanity’s Strongest and the new titan shifter Eren Jeager. Updates were nice, knowing Levi was safe and thriving in what he did best. But as you placed a pint of beer on one of the tables and overheard a heavy set man babble loudly to his comrade, dread splashed over you in waves.

“The Captain was the only survivor in his squad. He wasn’t even with them when it happened, poor guy. He must feel terribly guilty.”

Your vision became hazy as you tried not to panic; of all the rumours that filtered through the drunk mouths of customers, you had never heard bad news like this before. The last you’d heard, human kind was given a beacon of hope, and things were looking up after Eren Jaeger managed to plug up the hole in Trost.

“Excuse me, but which squad did you say this happened to?” you heard your voice say.  

Across the table, the other man took a swig of his drink, and grunted indignantly.

“Levi Squad, the best in the military I heard. A shame, but I suppose even the top in the Survey Corps are still just suicidal maniacs when it comes down to it.”

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

After that, everything became white noise. You could only register every third movement, heart thundering in your ears. The tray you’d been holding to carry the drinks clattered as it fell to the ground, causing a few gasps and strange looks to be thrown in your direction. In your horrified state, dread weighed down like lead in your body. You rushed to the back room, tears clouding your vision as you tried not to stumble.

You gripped the edges of the washroom sink, dizzy with this newfound information.

Levi has now lost more people that he loved, and was probably experiencing the same survivor’s guilt as he did with Isabel and Farlan. He was most likely suffering alone right now, never having been one to let people see his vulnerability so easily.

You did not witness first hand what your friends’ deaths meant to him. When the Captain waited for you at the top of the staircase, his expression never seemed out of the ordinary. Levi was kind enough to let you enjoy your first few days up with him simply enjoying the newfound freedom. He made the excuse that your two other comrades were out on business somewhere, and would be back to see you soon. Maybe, at the time, your excitement blinded you from the deeper emotions hidden in his voice.

When you found out the truth, their passing broke you. The fact that Levi shouldered any blame, however, is what twisted the knife. He had been grieving by himself; feeling that pain without anyone to comfort him. He had to put on a brave face just to see you; secretly spending that last month alone, probably relaying over and over how he would break the news to you.

Your remorse increased tenfold when it was him who held you, and him who put you back together, just like he had to for himself. And now he was by himself all over again.

I have to do something.

Splashing water on your face, you straightened up and looked in the mirror, a sudden surge of guilt coursing through your veins.

You refused to let Levi be alone this time around, no matter how he might feel about you now.

~~~~~~~

Part Two!

#snk levi #levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman gif #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #AoT #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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to all the pilots i've loved before {poe dameron} - 3/4

part three: better half of a whole

summary: you’re in love with poe dameron. it’s both the most complicated and most simple thing in the galaxy - and it’s all shoved into a shoe-box under your bed, in the form of a thousand love letters. here’s to hoping he never finds them. (series masterlist)

warnings: language, mentions of injury

i'm so sorry this took me so long to write!! i got writer's block and then i was horribly busy with a thousand others things and sadly, i cannot prioritise fan fiction over real life duties. and i would know, because i've tried

enjoy!!

- jazz

Poe didn't sleep for...well, it was probably days. Felt like years.

Dear trouble,

Every time he closed his eyes, your face would flash into his mind. The sound of your laugh echoing amongst the cries of war; the feel of your soft hands tracing the remains of battle scars and wounds. What if the hug you gave him before you left was the last? What if your slightly pained laughter at the shitty joke he'd made in the jungle the night before was all he had left? He cherished every memory he had of you but he loved you more.

I know you hate when I call you that, but it feels pretty accurate - because you do cause trouble, normally with me but more recently FOR me. Anyways, I never considered myself to be much of a letter writer, but then I saw yours and...fuck.

Love. What a funny fucking word, right? Said so easily, but meant so much. Something that felt so hard to find, but even more difficult to hold onto. His parents had found it and they'd kept it for so long, and he'd always wanted the same - nothing less, nothing more. Just the kind of unwavering, undying love that can survive a war and be happy with the domesticity that followed. The only difference between Poe and his parents was that they'd been fearless with every aspect of their lives, not withholding their ability to express feelings. Perhaps that's where he fell short. Shara had taught him a lot of things but she'd been lost before he taught her how to pull his head out his ass and just...say things how they were.

What am I even supposed to say? I love you too would be a start, because I obviously I do. I've always wanted to say it but I never wanted to risk what we had in case you secretly hated me, and now I'm going to live out the rest of my days regretting it.

The first that Poe managed to finally get some rest was four days after Leia had broken the news of your disappearance. He'd fallen asleep in his quarters, curled up into Finn's side and clutching a t-shirt of his that he'd left in your room - you'd borrowed it a few months ago, and it still smelt of you. It was a mixture of your everyday body fragrance and a little of engine oil. BB-8 was snoozing quietly in the corner and for the first time in days, Poe's jaw and shoulders weren't tense and clenched.

The little robot did stir, however, when he got a comms system message from Leia. He was awake immediately, cruising across the room and crashing straight into the nearest human he could find - and it was at that point that Finn regretted leaving his leg dangling off the side of the bed. He jumped awake, brown eyes finding the droid peering up at him.

You're not just my best friend. You're my partner in crime, my soulmate and you know that twin flame bullshit that Rey always go on about? You're probably that too because we're both flaming hot. You're the better half of this whole. You and me.

"Poe is sleeping, buddy," he quietly said.

"There's a message from the general," BB-8 beeped back.

Poe suddenly woke up at that - it could have been any message, and certainly not one about you, but something in his gut told him otherwise. If it hadn't have been, Leia would have left it til morning, or not even bothered him at all in his current state.

"What?" the pilot asked. "What is it?"

"They're back, in the med-"

Poe didn't give him a chance to say anything else, because he was already up and out the door - jacket unzipped, boots half unlaced, hair sticking up in a thousand different directions.

And even though he hadn't slept for days, he was running for his dear fucking life. The medical bay was right on the other side of the base and he didn't care. You were there - in what state, he didn't know - and that was all that mattered. He was just wanted to be with you, beside you, and he never planned on leaving.

If I see you again, I'm not gonna hide it anymore. I love you and you deserve to know that. I'm gonna give you the fucking world, I promise.

Poe skidded around the corner, stopping his tracks when he saw you across the room. You looked tired - far past it, in fact - and his entire body tensed when he saw the bruises on your arm and up your neck. Still, he took comfort in the fact that he knew you put up a good fight. You'd sparred together enough times and given him enough bruises to last a life time.

There was a slight oof as someone crashed into the back of Poe (Finn's subtle way of announcing his arrival). He placed a hand on his shoulder, shoving him forward slightly. It was clear that Poe was in a state of shock - at your loss, at your declaration, and even more at your return - because the last few days had changed everything.

Everything he'd ever wanted was about to come to fruition. No pressure.

"Go to them," Finn murmured.

With that, Poe took a few steps forward - you met him half away across the room, chests colliding with enough force to knock down an ATAT. He wound his arms you, pulling you towards him with one hand tangled in your hair and the other holding your back. He clung to you, tears in his eyes and entire body shaking, almost as though he was using the feeling of you to act as a reminder that this wasn't a dream. You were here. You were back. Perhaps a little worst for wear, but alive and standing all the same.

I don't know how I'll say it. Am I meant to just blurt it out? I've never said it to anyone before, so...what the fuck am I meant to do? Normally, I'd come to you for advice on this sort of this but that feels a bit counter intuitive.

"Hey, Poe," you gently murmured.

"Hey, trouble," he let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from the hug to clutch your face in his hands. "You're alive. You're here-"

"- yeah, I'm here," you grinned.

"What happened?" he pushed. "If I ever find those First Order bastards, I swear it's on site."

"They were trying to shoot us out the sky, so we had to lay low on a random moon for a few days, but the residents of said moon were not very friendly and - you know what? It doesn't matter," you leant into his touch, relishing the feeling of his hands against your skin. "I'm here and that's what's important."

"I was so scared," Poe admitted. "And they had me search your room for back up plans and-"

You froze.

"You...you searched my room?" you stuttered. "What did you find?"

The main thing is, I AM gonna tell you. I promise. Just...please come back.

Love, Poe

Poe's eyes widened - maybe now wasn't the best time to break the news. You were bleeding from your head and hadn't slept for days. To spring it on you before you were even cleaned up felt a bit unfair. His worst fears had been avoided, so he didn't mind waiting just a little longer.

"Nothing," he forced a smile. "C'mon, I'll clean you up."

Taking your hand in his, Poe lead you towards one of the beds. He was hardly a medical expert, but he'd been through enough cuts and scrapes to have a basic understanding of stitches. And luckily, your injuries didn't look too bad. It was more just the fact you had them in the first place that hurt him.

What if he'd gone on the mission with you? Or convinced you to stay? Fuck, he would have gone in your place if he knew what was going to happen. The last few days had been the worst of his life and he almost felt responsible for what had happened to you. Your pain was his pain, and he felt it in every fibre of his being.

But, of all things, at least he knew what love was now - and if you had never have gone MIA, he never would have gone looking in your room, and he never would have found those letters. It felt like a bit of a dick move to call them a blessing in disguise but his mother had always taught him the value of looking for silver linings. The last week had been one giant thunderstorm. There had been no breaks in the rain, or sun peaking through the clouds. It had just been darkness and thunder, but it was all beginning to clear now.

What was it that Shara had said when Poe was a kid? Things have a funny way of working out. This was all a testament to that, and also to the fact that she always seemed to be right.

Poe's hands moved gently as he stitched up the cut on your forehead. They were still steady as they moved, brown eyes occasionally moving down to meet yours. He always smiled when they did.

"There we go," he said. "That shouldn't scar, but if it does, it would make you look like a bad-ass, so..."

You chuckled slightly. "Thanks, Dameron."

"You don't have to thank me," he quietly murmured, running a thumb over your cheek. "I'm just glad you're back."

"Right," you grinned. "What did you do whilst I was gone?"

Cried. Read those letters. Cried some more. Wrote a letter myself, then cried on that too.

"I just...I caught up some on some reading," he forced a smile. "C'mon, let's go to my quarters. I have some bactaspray there for those bruises."

Poe took your hand in his again and helped you up off of the bed - you seemed okay to walk, but he didn't let go. He needed to feel you, to know that you were there. He was worried you might float away into the galaxy and disappear all over again if he didn't cling onto you.

And for you, the feeling of his warm hands against yours was a welcome relief after a long few days. You were trying to push the pain and the incoming nightmares to the back of your head, and it was much easier when Poe was beside you. You already knew that he was going to make you sleep beside him that night. Being on the same wavelength so often was a great feeling.

Poe hadn't thought about tidying his room - why would he? He'd been so preoccupied with you, and finding you, that he'd barely considered the idea. Besides, it wasn't like you were going to care about the shoes by his door, or the letters on his desk, or the unfolded laund-

- fuck.

The letters.

Your box of letters, which was sat on his desk, which was right by the door.

By the time he'd even registered that they were there, you were already half way into the room. In a somewhat half-arsed attempt to shove them back in the box and toss them to the side, Poe dove forward and knocked them into an open draw, slamming it shut.

When he turned around and saw your wide eyes, it was clear he was a little too late. You'd already seen them.

taglist: tags: @neverlandlibrarian @asphyzzz @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ubri812 @taina-eny @dessinemoiunehistoire @fangirl-316 @princessxkenobi @brandyllyn

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron angst #poe x you #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron fan fiction #star wars x reader #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fluff #star wars angst #star wars fanfiction #star wars reader inserts

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Note

Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu ravio #lu legend #fluffics #linked universe fanfic #linked universe fic requests #lu time #lu wild #not ravio\i #do not tag as ship #thank you!

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years ago

Text

Love of My Life

It was then Katara’s turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

After the final battle, Katara and Aang reunite.

(Written for Day 3 of Kataang Week 2021: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Azula was taken away at some point, maybe by the Fire Sages, but her bloodcurdling screams and broken sobs were hardly a pinprick at the back of Katara’s mind as she kept her attention trained to the lightning wound blasted across Zuko’s solar plexus. Her hands glowed with the water she was continuously pulling from the now-burst piping system in the courtyard around them. She had no enhanced spirit water as with Aang, but fortunately Zuko’s injury was less severe and—thanks to her quick defeat of Azula—no longer life-threatening.

Zuko winced, and guilt flashed through Katara’s stomach for silently dismissing his pain. “Sorry.” She moved the water further upward on his chest, over a spot where the skin was more blistered. “Better?”

A low hiss escaped Zuko’s lips as the cool liquid skimmed the wound, and he managed a weak nod. “Thanks.” His voice was raspier than usual. To be expected. “For this, and for… and for stopping Azula.”

The urge to laugh rose in Katara’s throat, which she immediately suppressed because Tui and La, what was wrong with her? How was now an appropriate time for laughter? “Well, you’re welcome,” she said instead, giving him a weary smile, “but next time, how about you don’t taunt her about the lack of lightning, hmm?”

Zuko grimaced, and Katara knew that particular reaction had nothing to do with the wound across his chest. “Let’s just hope there will never be a next time.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that.

The following minutes were quiet as Katara slowly moved the water up, down, and around Zuko’s injury, her hands themselves hovering less than an inch above his chest. While she knew it was only a figment of her imagination, Katara could’ve sworn there was still blue lightning—Azula’s lightning—flickering across the wound, sparking at her fingertips and prickling across her skin.

Maybe, then, it was this lingering remnant of the Avatar’s slayer that had Katara so on edge. Maybe that was the reason why tension still thrummed through her body despite that she and Zuko were safe now, despite that they’d won.

“He’s going to come back.”

Zuko’s words broke the heavy silence, startling Katara so badly her concentration flew out the figurative window. The water around her hands lost its glow and splattered across Zuko’s chest like she’d emptied a full bucket on top of him. Frantic apologies spilled from her lips as she bent the water off his upper body with similar haste, but Zuko—wincing—pushed himself into a sitting position before she could begin the healing process again.

“Zuko, what are you—”

“Aang is going to come back,” he repeated, staring at Katara with an intensity that probably shouldn’t have been possible for someone in his grievously injured state. A testament to her healing skills, truly, and also to Zuko’s general stubbornness.

“I know he will,” Katara said after a pause, bending the water she’d again collected around her hands into the leather waterskin that hung at her hip. “If memory serves, I was the one telling you that on our way here.”

Zuko chuckled. “I know. Sorry. You just seemed like…” His eyes flickered across her face, searching for vulnerability Katara refused to bare. “Like you needed the reminder.”

Katara sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Look. I know Aang will come back. I know he’ll win.” Spirits, maybe he had won already. “I mean, he’s the only one who can. But I guess I’m still—” Katara cut herself off with another sigh, blinking back exhausted tears. “Fine, you’re right. I guess I’m still worried.”

Aang would return victorious, yes, there was no doubt in her mind. But at what cost? What price would he have been forced to pay? Sacrificing his body through the loss of a limb? Sacrificing his soul through the loss of that which his people valued above all else? Katara knew, she knew that if anyone could stop Ozai without killing him, it was Aang. But what she didn’t know was—was how.

Spirits, Katara wouldn’t be able to handle it if Aang returned to her broken in a way she couldn’t heal. She’d already witnessed him die once, watched his body go limp as life left it. She wasn’t ready to watch his spirit disappear, wasn’t ready to watch hope leave his heart, too.

Zuko opened his mouth, presumably to offer more words of comfort to her, but he was interrupted by Appa’s body stiffening—the sky bison was so large it was impossible not to notice the reaction. He’d originally been standing guard, for all intents and purposes, while Katara healed Zuko, but now his eyes were glued to the sky as he released a bellow that shook the stone of the courtyard beneath them.

Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm to keep him from toppling over, but instead of resettling himself, Zuko tried to stand up, as if the giant wound on his chest was nothing more than a mere papercut.

“It’s Aang!” was the only explanation he gave as Katara relented with a huff and helped him to his feet. “It has to be. What else would get Appa acting like this?”

Privately, Katara agreed with him. Hope beat in her heart so rapidly it ached. But since Zuko had wildly, unexpectedly, completely out of the blue transformed into an optimist—seriously, had the lightning gone through his brain?—well, that meant she had to be the one to temper his optimism with a little realism.

“It could be a threat,” she responded honestly, not releasing Zuko’s arm until she was certain he’d gathered his balance.

Zuko shot her a doubtful look. “You sure?” He pointed at Appa, whose tail had started shaking—okay, yes, probably with excitement, Katara would admit that much.

It was then her turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

Seconds later, those otherworldly clouds split open to reveal a Fire Nation airship, and on the exterior Katara could see flashes of blue and green fabric—Sokka and Toph, it had to be. Spirits knew she probably should have been concerned about who was steering the balloon, but once it was clear the ship was heading steadily towards the ground and wouldn’t face a disastrous crash, Katara’s mind returned to its previous mantra.

Aang. Aang. Aang.

“Remember to breathe, Katara.”

Katara shot Zuko a mild glare at his wry tone, but exhaled, because he was right—she’d been holding her breath. In fact, she was still holding far more tension in her body than could be considered healthy, but Katara knew that overwhelming stiffness wasn’t going to ease until she saw her friends alive and well, until she felt Aang’s heartbeat in sync against her own.

Katara’s breath hitched as the airship came to a stop far from herself and Zuko, hovering above the stone ground of the courtyard. It was much larger up close—no wonder it couldn’t land properly. There was a deep rattle as a metal plank, of sorts, some kind of steel pathway lowered from the ship and scraped across the ground with an earsplitting screech. Onto it stepped—

“They’re alive!” Katara gasped, blinking back elated tears as Sokka, Aang, Toph, and Suki—and Momo atop Suki’s left shoulder—stepped out onto the platform. One of Sokka’s legs was in a splint and he had to lean onto Suki’s side for support as he hobbled along, but— “They’re all alive!”

Aang was alive.

They’d done it. A little bruised, a little broken, maybe all around worse for wear, but—

They’d done it.

“Come on,” Zuko urged, taking an unsteady step forward and immediately wincing. He didn’t let the pain stop him, though, powering another foot ahead. “Let’s meet them halfway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, ducking under Zuko’s arm to brace him against her side, careful to avoid his injury. “Idiot.” Standing on his own was one thing, but walking by himself was an entirely different matter. She could already tell Zuko was the kind of person who made a terrible patient.

But Katara walked with him all the same, slow and steady. As they got closer, she could better see the physical state her friends were in. Toph had only a few scrapes across her arms and face. Same for Suki. Sokka had clearly done a number on his leg, as he was hardly putting any weight on it despite the well-made split, and not to mention that Suki continued to brace him while he walked. Aang was—

“Appa!”

Well, Aang was getting smothered by Appa, Katara noted with silent amusement as the sky bison practically tackled Aang to the ground, nuzzling and licking him with unabashed eagerness.

“Buddy, I’m okay!” Aang managed to wheeze out amidst his laughter, giving Appa a tight hug. “I’m okay, I promise.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, at least based on what Katara could discern from afar. His orange robes were torn to oblivion, with only his Fire Nation pants remaining. She could see minor burns across his chest and one area on the left side of his ribs that looked to her like it would become a painful bruise, but overall—

“If you guys are here with no Azula,” Sokka joked as they all came to a stop, snapping Katara’s attention away from Aang, “does that mean Zuko finally gets to rule the Fire Nation?”

Katara allowed Zuko to keep some of his weight on her even as they stood still. He laughed at her brother’s comment. “Katara’s the one who technically defeated her in the Agni Kai. Maybe that makes her the Fire Lord.”

Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, ignoring the amused snickers of her friends. “Tui and La, no. I refuse. I resign. I—I abdicate. The throne is all yours, Zuko.”

She turned her attention to her brother’s injured leg as Suki began recounting the details of their battle in the air, including how they’d managed to pilfer an airship of their own. Up close, Katara was relieved to see that no bone had broken through the skin in Sokka’s shin or thigh—that would have made it much harder for her to heal. She made sure Zuko was stable on his feet before stepping away to study the injury further. But as she crouched at Sokka’s side and went to bend water out her flask for the preliminary healing process—

“Hey. That can wait.”

Katara blinked, staring up at Sokka in utter confusion. “Excuse me?” His leg was broken, she couldn’t just—

Sokka jerked his head towards Aang, who was busy freeing himself from beneath Appa’s weight. “Go greet the hero of the hour. My leg will still be here when you get back.”

Toph snorted. “Of the hour?” She shook her head. “Give him credit, Sokka—Twinkle Toes is the hero of the century.” Momo chirped before jumping from Suki’s shoulder onto Toph’s, as if agreeing with her.

Katara turned to look at Aang, her mind tuning out the rest of her friend’s teasing banter that followed. He was—Aang was more than the hero of the century, at least to her. More than the Avatar, more than an airbender, more than—

Aang must have felt her eyes on him, because he paused in petting Appa to turn around and give her a shy grin. “Hi, Katara.”

With those two words, the dam burst, and Katara sprinted over to Aang with all the speed of a roaring wave. Her arms crashed around his bare shoulders like water beating against the shore, and Aang wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Katara could only squeeze him tighter, his face pressing into her shoulder.

“You stopped him,” Katara whispered. Her words were shaky, or—spirits, maybe it was her entire body that was quivering. “Ozai. You stopped him.”

Aang nodded into her shoulder, and Katara slackened her grip just enough so he could lean back and reply. “Yep.”

Katara’s right hand instinctively rose to cup his face. She could see it in his eyes—tired, yes, but still so full of hope, the warm gray as rich as the shimmering moon. “You found another way, didn’t you?”

Aang smiled at her, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and spirits if that wasn’t an image Katara wanted traced into her memory for the rest of time. “Ozai is alive. But he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Katara had a million questions, the first being the obvious How? How did you do it? But no query fell from her lips despite her overwhelming curiosity. Instead, all she could do was stare at Aang, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks as she smiled and smiled and smiled and—

“I am so proud of you,” Katara said, the words halfway to a sob as she pulled Aang into another crushing hug, marvelling at how perfectly his body fit against hers. “I knew you would do it, Aang, I knew it. Only you could.”

Aang laughed. “Must’ve been your belief that got me through it.” His arms tightened around her, as if he, too, needed the unspoken reassurance that Katara was there, that she was real, that they had won, the same way she needed such comfort from him. “At one point, I’m not even sure I believed I’d succeed.”

“It’s a good thing I never doubted you, then,” Katara whispered, and Aang laughed again.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Katara wasn’t quite sure what Aang was thanking her for—her faith then, her presence now?—and in truth, she had a feeling Aang didn’t precisely know, either. But what did precision matter? They were here, together, alive. Beaten and bruised but not broken beyond all repair. Neither of them had lost what they couldn’t live without.

For Aang, the vestiges of his peaceful people. And for her…

Aang.

Katara hadn’t lost Aang. Not like she had before, not like she couldn’t bear to ever lose him again.

“Alright, lovebirds! That’s enough time spent hugging the life out of each other. Come tend to the wounded, please.”

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother’s obnoxious interruption, but she released Aang after a final tight squeeze. She really did want to take a look at Sokka’s leg. Besides—she and Aang now had all the time in the world. All the time in a peaceful world, at that.

Aang followed her back to the rest of their friends, and Katara had just knelt down to examine Sokka’s injury when Aang burst out into loud, unprovoked laughter. The sudden sound made her jump, and it was only thanks to some quick thinking—and inelegant bending—that she avoided spilling the water from her waterskin all over the stone courtyard for the second time in the past ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” Zuko asked, the apparent reason for Aang’s laughter. “What did I do?”

“No—you didn’t—” Aang cut himself off with a wheeze, and Katara couldn’t stop herself from glancing behind her to see what on Earth had him in stitches.

Aang pointed at Zuko’s chest, biting down hard on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to withhold further laughter. “That. Azula shot you with lightning, right?” When Zuko nodded, he said, “And Katara healed you?”

“I did,” Katara confirmed. Sokka gave her a disapproving look, probably because she was yet to begin healing his leg, but—well, this time Katara had no real excuse beyond her own intrigue. Whoops. But it wasn’t as if his splint wasn’t holding up perfectly. The expertise with which it was secured suggested Suki had been the one to fashion it, and that meant Sokka would be fine for a quick moment longer.

Aang’s laughter returned in full force, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his free hand gestured wildly behind him. “We—We match!” He turned around, and—

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko groaned, and Katara found herself unable to contain her laughter. In a matter of seconds, they were all laughing at Aang’s revelation. Even Zuko, once he’d gotten over himself.

Tui and La. Katara loved her friends, she loved her life, she loved being alive with her friends by her side and—

Aang.

She loved Aang.

Oh, spirits.

#kataang #kataangtag #kataang week #katara #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla fanfic #the gaang #amy writes

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yoori-ya · 2 years ago

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30 before 30

I was waiting to writing something like this on my 30th, but there's only a week-and-a-half separating me from my birthday. It's not like once the clock strikes midnight on Dec 2, a third eye is going to open up on my forehead. Will 30 be so different from 29? Rationally, I know probably not, but I can't help feeling as if I'm approaching a threshold.

Maybe because 30 is a such a round number. A decade is neat bundle of ten years to tie up and pack away.

D told me this summer, out of nowhere, "Man, you really did your twenties right."

Did I? I feel like I spent the first half stumbling around in the dark, my internal-monologue really just a constant, existential scream as I scrambled for some sort of handhold. There was no official manual lowered down on a golden rope, but I was lucky enough to fall in with older friends who brought me under their wing. Honestly, most of the advice they gave me only recently started sticking. Back then, I still took some steep stumbles despite their best efforts, but I felt as if I at least had some direction--ideas to strive towards, heroes to put on pedestals. As I’ve gotten closer, the plaster has cracked off, and I’ve come to see the people beneath, but that's more a of a testament to how far I’ve come.

Back then most of my angst was rooted in wondering who it was. If you asked me who I am these days, I probably still wouldn't know how to answer, but the difference is that it doesn't cause me much grief. I'm comfortable with not being able to fit in a clearly labeled box. I'm okay that Sometimes-Shy-Sometimes-Outgoing-but-Usually-Hotheaded-Loudmouthed-Impulsive-Overthinking-Anime-Nerd-Who-Likes-to-Drink doesn't exactly describe me, and that no amount of words and hyphens may ever be enough to. I'm okay with it, just like I'm okay with knowing that when I look up at the night sky, I'll never be able to name every star laid out above me. It's nice enough that it's all there. I'm okay with it because I know no matter how other people perceive me, label me, view me, I not only know what's important, I have it in me to protect it.

Experience can be a brutal teacher, but it's thorough, and I've learned again and again the bitterness of quietly ceding bits of myself so that I can be written into someone else's story. People, I have learned, can be selfish. People, I have learned, will want me to behave to fit whatever script they have written for me. People, I have learned, can get upset when I refuse to play the role. I have also learned, however, that I can survive the heat of their anger. When I was younger, my father taught me to anger someone was the end of the world. B was a little shitstain on humanity's underpants, but he did help me to unlearn that terrible lesson, taught me how to find my voice, how to stand up for myself and my own story.

The existential scream is ongoing, but these days it's less about who I am and more about what I want out of life. Where is it that I want to turn my rudder towards? Where is my story? I feel like I’ve kept my sights fixed on one point because I was told to, and only now am I starting to understand how broad the horizon really is.

A gets pissed every time I bring up the fact that we’re practically thirty. "I feel like we haven’t accomplished anything," she says whenever I asked her why she's pissed. I stay quiet and just slowly nod my head because I can’t agree. I’m not sitting in that corner office J and I always joked about, I still haven’t written that book, but I remember how all I wanted ten years ago was for the world to slow and be little kinder. The world has done neither, but the fact that I can walk a little more sure-footed down life's often bumpy terrain still feels big.

People always talk about how they’d do their twenties differently if given a chance. That’s impossible, but I think standing at the base of my thirties outfitted with all the tools I’ve picked up in the last decade is the next best thing. So maybe D was right, maybe I really did do my twenties right.

Somehow, between the beginnings of this entry and its end, a bottle of wine has been imbibed. Thanks for always chronicling me, little blog.

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

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Kylex; skinny-dipping + body-worship. <3

Kyle refused to move his eyes away from the fireplace. If he did, he knew where his gaze would wander, and he wasn’t willing to risk getting caught. Again.

No matter how Alex pretended not to notice, Kyle was sure he’d seen him staring more than once. How could he not have, with the long minutes Kyle had found himself tracing Alex’s jaw with his eyes, the way Tripp Manes’s dog tags hung off his strong neck, his forearms and the bracelets he’d taken to wearing.

When Kyle had all but pulled Alex into his car for a forced weekend getaway at his family’s old cabin by the lake, he honestly hadn’t done it for any reason other than the fact that he’d watched his friend suffer over his breakup with Forrest Long and Michael Guerin’s inability to make the first move and he’d wanted him to have a break.

It wasn’t until Alex had fallen asleep on the road with his head on Kyle’s shoulder, a true testament to his exhaustion as Alex didn’t usually fall asleep in the middle of the day, that Kyle realized something he’d only vaguely noted before; Alex smelled like vanilla. And jasmines. And pastries. Did he know that? Did he know how good he smelled?

Kyle had thought that a moment to himself as he drove would be okay to indulge in his private musings, but then they’d gotten to the cabin and Kyle had found himself watching the way Alex’s shoulder blades contracted under his shirt. He’d grown more toned since that year he’d gone off to fight Project Shepherd. Not that he hadn’t been gorgeous before.

Of course, then, Kyle wondered why he’d noticed Alex’s body at all since his return to Roswell and told himself to stop. Alex had always been a handsome guy, and there was nothing wrong with a man acknowledging his best friend’s beauty.

Except then most men didn’t imagine running their hands over their best friend’s long, strong back or pressing their lips to their best friend’s sun-kissed soldiers and seeing if they were as warm as they looked.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling shakily.

“You okay?” Alex asked, nudging his shoulder and sitting down beside him, his good leg crossed, his other stretched out near the fire. “You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

Kyle pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, no, I’m – uh . . . I’m not interrupting anything important, right? I mean, your enlistment justended, and you’ve barely had a second to breathe –”

“Well,” Alex raised an amused brow, “that’s what this trip is for, right? For me to breathe?”

“Right,” Kyle ducked his head, hugging his knees tighter to his chest, gripping his wrist as he ran over what to say. “I just don’t want you to feel like you were forced to come, or like you’re wasting the first real downtime you’ve ever had humoring me here.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not really an expert on what to do in your downtime, but spending it with a friendly face doesn’t seem like the wrong way.”

“Friendly face,” Kyle smiled to himself. It made his heart swell to think that as everyone in Alex’s life turned their backs to him, he still found a friend in Kyle. A comfort. And here Kyle was, unable to help but fantasize about him. “You know I love you, right?” he blurted.

Alex’s eyebrows rose and he laughed. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to ruin our friendship,” he said. “I need you to understand that you’ll always have me in your corner.”

Alex’s smile softened as he looked back to the fireplace, his shoulders scrunching. “I know that. And, for what it’s worth, I love you, too.”

Kyle held his gaze firmly. “It’s worth a damn lot.”

Alex nodded in acknowledgment and leaned over to put his head on Kyle’s shoulder again. Once again, Kyle couldn’t help but breathe Alex in, inhaling his scent. His eyes fluttered and he caught himself just in time.

He stood. “Uh – hey, did you see the lake?”

“Oh,” Alex blinked, startled, “not really, to be honest, I was kind of tired when we got here.”

Kyle grinned, holding out a hand. “Well, that’s not right. You’ve got to see the lake, c’mon.”

Alex started to laugh. “Now? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Perfect timing!” He grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled him up with one tug, making Alex laugh harder.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Just give me a second to put on my shoes. Weirdo.”

Kyle definitely didn’t stare as Alex bent over to put on his boots, didn’t take note of the way his straight hair fell so perfectly over his eyes, or the way his arms looked when he tugged his sleeves up to his elbows.

“You ready to go?” Alex asked, and Kyle realized he’d zoned out.

He could’ve sworn he saw Alex hide a smirk as he followed. “Y-Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

The walk to the lake was a short one, but with Alex’s hand in Kyle’s to help over rocks and an unsteady path, with the world around them turned to silence and the reminder that they were completely alone out here with no one else around for miles, Kyle’s mind turned the walk into a week-long journey.

He didn’t take note of it before, how isolated he and Alex were out here. He imagined them in the cabin, he imagined who would hear them if Alex slipped into his bed, if Kyle slipped into him, if Alex screamed Kyle’s name and begged him to go harder –

“There it is,” Alex breathed, and Kyle woke from his thoughts. Laying before them was a large lake as still as glass and turned silver by moonlight. “Wow,” he smiled. “That’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Kyle murmured, still watching Alex and the way his dark eyes reflected the silver of the lake. “Gorgeous.”

Alex bit his lower lip. “You know . . . there’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“What?”

Alex gave him a mischievous grin, and reached down, tugging the hem of his shirt up until he was standing there, his chest bare.

“W-What’re you –”

Alex cut him off as he stripped himself of his pants, and Kyle managed a gasp before he quickly averted his eyes. He heard Alex sit and undo his prosthetic, and the next thing he knew, there was a splash and Alex was bobbing above the lake’s surface, his hair sleeked back, his grin wide.

“Whoa!” he laughed loudly. “The water’s awesome!”

Kyle couldn’t help it. Even as his heart hammered at the clothes left at his side and the knowledge that Alex was naked, a laugh burst through his own lips.

Alex hung his head back until his ears were underwater, his eyes fluttering shut with something Kyle had never seen in him before; peace. Kyle hesitated for a good whole minute before he pulled off his own shirt and pants. He expected the lake to be freezing, but the air outside was actually warm and the water was the same.

As he stepped into the lake, he realized Alex was pointedly staring at him. His cheeks flushed, but something in him hoped that no matter what, Alex wouldn’t look away from him. He liked having his best friend’s eyes on him, raking his very naked body.

He ducked under the surface of the water and reemerged a few feet from Alex, scooping him up in his arms.

“Ah!” Alex yelped and laughed as Kyle picked him up easily with the help of the water and spun him around, nearly bringing them both back under the surface.

Kyle realized too late that his little joke had brought his and Alex’s bodies together, and that even through the water, he could feel Alex’s chest, his stomach, his length against his own. He cleared his throat as he set a still-smiling Alex down and put a few feet between them.

“Well?” Alex splashed some water in his face. “Isn’t this amazing?”

“It really is,” Kyle heaved, letting his head fall back as Alex had done. For a moment, he heard nothing. Then he felt the soft touch of fingers to his back and he sighed softly. He opened his eyes and let his feet touch the lake floor again, but the hands on his back never left. Alex slowly raised his fingers up to Kyle’s shoulder blades, then his shoulders.

Kyle bit his lower lip, letting his head roll back, urging Alex to press against him, to kiss the trail his fingers were leaving, up his neck, his jaw. His lips parted in anticipation, but Alex only put distance between them.

Kyle frowned and looked over his shoulder to find Alex exhaling shakily through pursed lips, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes as though to wake himself from this dream.

“What –” Kyle shook his head. “Why’d you stop?”

Alex dropped his hands and looked at Kyle like he was sure he’d heard him wrong. His brows were furrowed. “What? Look, I’m – I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry.”

He sounded so afraid, like he was terrified he was going to be refused again or turned down. Like he was going to be reminded, once again, how unwanted he was, and didn’t want to hear it from the last person he had left.

It made Kyle angry, but not at Alex. Never at Alex. Only at everyone who ever decided that Alex’s feelings weren’t worth anything. That his friendship and love weren’t worth it.

“I’m not,” Kyle blurted. He swallowed, wondered if he should’ve played it off as a joke, but Alex had had enough people refuse to fight for him. There were already two men who’d refused themselves and never stopped to wonder what it would do to Alex’s mind. Kyle wouldn’t make that mistake. He closed the distance between them, taking Alex’s wrists and urging him closer. “It’s okay, Alex. You can – you can do what you want.”

Alex, however, didn’t look the least bit relieved or eager or as hungry for contact as Kyle felt. Instead, he looked . . . hurt.

He moved back. “Am I that pathetic to you? You think I need a – a pity kiss or something?”

“Alex,” Kyle growled, keeping tight hold of Alex’s hands and hoping to whoever listened that he wasn’t making a mistake. But Alex was worth the risk. He’d always been worth it. “I’ve been fantasizing about touching you since that day at the cabin.”

Alex’s brows furrowed and he thought back. “The day you were going to break in?”

“And you caught me right on time,” said Kyle, grinning. “You were so freaking cool–”

Alex huffed a laugh. “You’re – you’re lying, I’m not . . . I’m . . . look, let’s just back inside.”

“No,” Kyle said, putting Alex’s hands on his own chest and taking Alex’s waist in his hands, pulling him in until their thighs brushed. “No, Alex.”

Alex seemed dazed as Kyle leaned in, for just a second, before he snapped out of his thoughts and looked away. “I can’t,” he breathed. “I can’t lose you.”

Kyle hated them then. Everyone that ever made Alex feel like he had to choose between friendship and love, everyone that was ever supposed to protect Alex’s heart and instead broke it. He hated everyone that made Alex this afraid.

He took Alex’s chin in his hand and turned his head, his lips hovering against Alex’s own. His voice fierce, he promised, “You could never lose me.”

And before Alex could object again, Kyle closed the distance between their mouths, taking Alex’s lips in his own and kissing him. The first thing he noted was that Alex whimpered softly when he was kissed, and it made Kyle want to swallow the sound and whatever else he was willing to give him. The second was that Alex’s lips were as soft as he’d always imagined and they were making it hard for Kyle’s doctor mind to absorb anything else except how good it felt.

Alex hesitated, but the longer Kyle kissed him, the bolder he got, and his mouth pressed firmly back against Kyle’s.

“Alex,”Kyle breathed before he could help himself, and did what he’d been wanting to do all day. He reached around and let his palms press against Alex’s shoulder blades, feeling the way the muscles turned pliant under his fingers. He dragged his nails down Alex’s spine and Alex hissed, pressing his body against Kyle’s.

Kyle gasped as he felt Alex’s length against his own, and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, not wanting to be away from Alex for a single second. The water rippled softly around them, Alex’s hands ran up and down his chest, down his stomach, and hesitated just at the bush of wiry hair between his legs.

Kyle imagined Alex’s expert hand on him, stroking him, and found his body keening into Alex’s touch.

“Please,” he breathed, “please touch me, baby.”

Alex’s eyes were half-lidded, wary, but he reached down between them, and Kyle’s mouth fell open as Alex’s fingers closed around him. His palm was rough and pure pleasure against Kyle’s length.

His head hung back and he thrusted his hips against Alex’s fist, eager to feel more of him at the same time. He reached down Alex’s back and grabbed a cheek, pulling Alex’s hips in against his and feeling his own rock-hard length.

He hesitated for only a second before he reached a finger between his ass and stuck one into his tight hole. Alex gasped, and his and Kyle’s foreheads pressed together, nothing but the sound of their grunts and moans as they touched each other, grabbing onto whatever muscle they could, feeling one another’s chests, nipples, their stomachs pressed together, their hips rutting together until they both came with a scream, their bodies shuddering against one another.

Kyle waited for the regret and embarrassment that came with doing your best friend, but he couldn’t feel it. Instead, all he wanted was to touch Alex, his hands running up Alex’s strong jaw, his cheeks, his hair, back down his neck to his shoulders and chest and stomach and thighs.

“A-Again,” he pleaded, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and keeping them pressed together. “Again, please, again.”

Alex huffed a shy laugh, burying his face in the crook of Kyle’s neck. Kyle kept a hand in his hair as he panted. He kissed his ear and felt Alex shiver against him. He held him tighter.

“We can pretend while we’re here, right?” Alex breathed. He pulled back, and his eyes were hesitant, afraid. “We can pretend just while we’re here. We can keep doing this just a little longer?”

Kyle swallowed. “We’re here for a week,” he said, his voice hoarse, his hold on Alex tightening. “We can do whatever you want, baby.”

Alex swallowed, took Kyle’s face in his hands, and kissed him so softly that it left Kyle moaning. When he pulled back, he said, “Then let’s get inside,” he said. “I want you to fuck me on a real bed.”

Kyle’s jaw hung open at the words and he bit Alex’s shoulder, making him gasp. “If I’m dreaming,” he warned, “do not wake me up.”

Alex’s laughter was worth whatever followed this week, Kyle decided. Alex would always be worth it.

Would you believe a bunch of really bad "romance" fantasy books have just seriously put me off romance? I don't think it's permanent, but wow, I am in some kind of romance slump...

#alex manes #kyle valenti #kylex #kylex fic #kylex fanfic #kylex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #kylex angst #kylex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael trevino

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Riding On

CH26- In Sickness And In Health

Summary: A bug hits the Adler household, and it isn’t pretty.

Warnings: Bad language, talks of puke and vomit (grim!)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Word Count- 5.1k ish

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 25

Fliss woke in the middle of the night to Thor gently scratching at the bedroom door, little whines seeping from his mouth. She sat still, her ears craning for what had gotten him so agitated and then she heard soft crying from across the hall. She knew from the fact it wasn’t coming over the baby monitor it wasn’t Alex, which left one other person.

“Frank...” she nudged him with her elbow gently in his ribs, where he lay in his preferred sleeping position, on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow. “Babe, Mary’s crying.”

He grumbled something before his nose screwed up and he gave a sleepy questioning hum as Fliss flicked on the lamp and rose from the bed, locating her sleep wear which had been discarded the night before as they’d gotten a little frisky. He groaned again, blinking against the light before his sleepy brain suddenly registered what was going on and he sat up, frowning.

The door to their room opened as Fliss headed across the landing and Frank jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats that were discarded over the back of the chair by the vanity and followed. As soon as Fliss opened the door to Mary’s room the smell of vomit hit his nostrils and he sighed, instantly realising what was going on.

“Hey, hey...” Fliss stood on the bottom rung of the steps which led up to Mary’s bed, reaching over to brush her hair which was spattered with puke off her face. “Sweetheart, it’s ok.”

“I couldn’t get to the bathroom in time...” Mary sobbed. “I just woke up and...”

“Stack, calm down.” Frank soothed as he moved behind Fliss. “Does your tummy hurt?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and then without warning she pushed Fliss away, retched, and spewed up once more all over her bedspread, her sobbing growing louder. Frank grimaced, and in front of him Fliss gave a little, sudden half retch of her own- he knew she hated dealing with puke but it was testament to her mom instincts as she swallowed and reached out, rubbing Mary’s back.

“Okay, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up. Can you stand in the shower or do you want me to run you a bath?”

“Bath.” Mary stammered, retching again and Fliss nodded, turning to Frank. “I’ll go sort it, can you help her down?”

“Sure.” Frank nodded as Fliss dodged round him, heading to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry.” Mary whispered.

“What for?” Frank frowned.

“For barfing in my bed.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Frank soothed her. “Have I ever been mad at you for being sick?”

“Only when I ate all those marshmallows.”

“That was different, I told you to stop stuffing them into your mouth and you didn’t.” Frank chuckled, the back of his hand pressing to Mary’s forehead. She felt clammy, her cheeks tinged with pink. “You can’t help it if you’re ill, sweetheart.”

“But the bedcover is new.”

“Mary, it doesn’t matter.” He repeated. “It’ll wash. I’m more worried about you. Now come on, let’s get you in the bath okay?”

With a little clever manoeuvring, Frank helped Mary down from her bunk and she made her way slowly into the bathroom where Fliss as busy drawing her a bath.

“Okay, you want me to stay with you or you wanna be on your own?” Fliss asked Mary as she slumped ok the close toilet seat.

“Can you stay?”

“Sure.” Fliss smiled.

“I’ll go strip the bed and toss it all in the machine.” Frank gently ran his hand over the back of Mary’s head as Fliss handed her a glass of water. “You can get in with us for the rest of the night.”

Mary drained the glass and nodded, wiping her eyes. Frank straightened up and Fliss gave him a little smile before he turned and headed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Half an hour or so later Mary was in a fresh set of pyjamas, had taken a dose of medicine and was settled in their bed. After an initial bit of another flap about her not wanting to be in the middle in case she needed to get out, Frank had assured her that if she moved he would wake and she was now settled in between him and Fliss, curled on her side and snuggled into his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His large arms cuddled her close, his left hand gently rubbing at her back as he gave Fliss a tired smile as she flicked off the light and settled down beside them having checked on Alex to make sure the noise hadn’t disturbed him.

“I’ll stay home with her.” He whispered as Fliss leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Mary’s head before she moved and placed a soft one on Frank’s mouth. “It’s easier for me to rearrange stuff than you, I can work here.”

“I can rearrange some stuff if needs be but, well, she’s always a daddy’s girl when she’s sick.” Fliss yawned.

Frank chuckled a little as he too gave a soft yawn. “Yeah, and I’d be lying if I said I ever wanted that to change.”

****

Mary was off colour for just over two days. Just as Fliss had stated, she’d been clingy to Frank, laying on the sofa by his side or on his knee, her head resting on his lap whilst she slept. Thankfully, by the time the third day rolled around she was back almost to her usual self although Frank insisted she stay home from summer camp for the rest of the week. The bad news was, however, the bug was seemed to have caught him now. He felt funny on the Monday morning and as he drove into work he had to pull his truck over so he could puke out of the door. With a groan he grabbed the bottle of water out of the holder and with a shaky hand drained half in one go before he pulled a u-turn and headed home. Fliss saw his truck arrive back onto their driveway and came into the house to find him rushing into the bathroom, throwing up violently into the toilet. With a sigh she gently rubbed his back and sent him to bed, fetching him some water and kissing his head, telling him to rest up. “Where’s dad?” Mary asked as she walked into her kitchen later that evening, having been picked up by Bill following a call from Fliss earlier that afternoon. “In bed, he’s caught your bug.” Fliss sighed. “Poor bugger.” Bill grimaced. “Yeah, he’s not well.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Just a case of it working through his system.” She smiled at Alex as she took him from her dad. “They behaved?” “Good as gold.” Bill smiled as Alex gave his momma a huge grin as she kissed his cheek. “Do you want us to pick them up again tomorrow evening?” “Would you?” Fliss sighed. “Frank won’t be up to it and I’ve got lessons until six.” “Sure, Mary can stay if she likes. We’ve got the twins so...” “Oh please Mom, can I?” Mary grinned and Fliss shrugged. “Sure, if you want.” “Yesss.” Mary gave Bill a hi-five before she excused herself and headed into her den. Bill had a cup of tea before he headed back home and Fliss got Alex ready for bed. Just as she was carrying him out of the nursery for his night bottle, Frank emerged from their bedroom. He was pale, and looked absolutely drained. “Hey, how you feeling?” Fliss gave him a sympathetic smile and he shook his head, giving a little sigh. “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He grumbled as Alex gave a noise of excitement at seeing his dad. “Hey, buddy.” Frank gave him a smile and waggled his fingers, chuckling a little as the baby mimicked his actions. “Frankie, go back to bed.” Fliss coaxed and he sighed. “I can’t sleep, been awake for the last hour.” “You been sick again?” “Not yet. Although my stomach is killing me.” “Can you face anything to eat?” Frank shook his head. “Just need to get some water.” “I’ll get it, just go lie down and watch some TV or something.” “Is Mary okay?” He completely ignored her instructions and Fliss shot him a look. “Stop ignoring me. She’s fine. I’ll send her up to say hi, now go. Go on.” “Yes, Mom.” Frank grumbled before he turned and headed back into their room. As Fliss headed down the stairs she heard the vague sounds of him retching into the toilet in the en-suite. ***** The next morning, Fliss found herself with a sick fiancée and a sick eleven month old as Alex promptly woke her up at five am screaming, and proceeded to projectile vomit all over her as she lifted him out of his vomit spattered crib. With a sigh, she soothed him gently before she carried him into the main bathroom so as not to disturb Frank and stripped them both off, stepping into the shower with him in her arms to clean them both off. Being an expert at doing things one handed now thanks to usually having him on her hip, she managed to wash her hair and his before she stepped out, wrapped him in a little towel. She shrugged on her robe and carried him out of the room, dressing him in a clean romper before she wandered downstairs to make herself some breakfast. As soon as it was an acceptable hour, she called Joanne to have her cancel her lessons for the day before she then called her mum who assured her that her or Bill would collect Mary and drop her at summer camp so she didn’t have to. It was a little after ten when Frank headed downstairs to find Fliss gently rocking Alex to and fro as he griped in her arms, his little hands curled round the material of her t-shirt, his cheeks red as he rest one against her shoulder. “Oh he’s not got it as well?” Frank sighed and Fliss nodded. “Yup, I got a wonderful five am wake up call.” “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” She looked at him, giving him a soft smile. “How you feeling today?” “A little better, not great but...” Frank shrugged as he ran a hand over Alex’s head. “Is he really bad?” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “He’s not been sick for an hour or so now but his diapers are grim.” She pulled a face. “I’m just worried about him not eating or drinking and getting dehydrated.” “Just offer him something plain to eat.” Frank looked at her, rubbing her arm. “Maybe some rye crackers or those little animal ones he likes and some diluted apple juice. If he’s like Mary then this will pass in a couple of days, don’t worry about it, it’s not like he’s a tiny baby now.” “Hmmm. Maybe I should ask Mum what I should do, I mean she’s done this before and...” At that Frank paused, his hand dropping to his side as he felt his temper flare. “Yeah, because it’s not like I have or anything is it, Fliss?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he was tired, wasn’t feeling too great himself and her lack of faith in him had riled him to the point he’d blurted it out without thinking. And he immediately knew he’d pushed the wrong button when she stilled and turned to him, her eyes blazing. “You’re such a dick!” “I’m a dick?” He snapped back. “Jesus, you constantly second guess everything I suggest. I’ve done this before and Mary turned out just fine.” “I don’t second guess everything.” “You know what, just do what you want. I can’t have this argument now, I feel like crap. Maybe you should check with your mom what I should eat as well while you’re at it.” “Fuck off, Frank.” Fliss spat at him as she adjusted Alex in her arms and stormed out of the room, her feet heavy on the stairs as she made her way up them, Alex’s little cries growing quieter as she went before they died out completely as she shut the door to his nursery. With a groan Frank grabbed a bottle of water and followed her up the stairs where he headed back into the bedroom, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over his head. **** Thor alerted Fliss to someone’s presence and her head turned to see her mum enter through the back door holding a canvas shopping bag.

“Mum?”

“Hey love, you sounded a little stressed on the phone so I thought I’d swing by.” She smiled. “How is he?”

“Who, Alex or the asshole upstairs?” Fliss rolled her eyes and Verity arched her brow.

“You two had an argument? I thought Frank was ill?”

“He is. Suffering from asshole-itis.”

“Okay.” Verity sighed as she placed the bag on the counter in the kitchen. “Well, I made you a lasagne and some chicken soup for when Frank feels like eating. Probably better on his stomach than a heap of meat and cheese.”

“Thanks.” Fliss gave her mum a smile as she stood up and headed over to the kitchen area of the large family room, checking on Alex who was sleeping in the pack and play in the corner of the room.

“Did he eat his crackers?”

“A few.” Fliss shrugged. “But he drank most of his apple juice and keeping him hydrated is the most important thing, right?”

"He’s not a new-born now, Fliss.” Verity smiled. “And this isn’t the first time he’s been off colour.”

“No, but it’s the first time he’s been puking up every hour or so.”

“Yes, but as long as he keeps drinking then there’s no need to worry about it.” Verity looked at her. “If he’s still bad in another twenty-four hours and you’re worried, call the doctor. But Frank was right with what he said. Diluted apple juice will make sure he gets water and a bit of sugar, and if he munches on a few crackers then at least he’s eating something. You could always offer him a piece of banana too. Full of vitamins and the potassium will be good for him, too.” At that Fliss pulled a face and Verity chuckled. “You’ve never liked bananas.”

“Frank and Mary love them as well as him, but the texture makes me want to hurl.”

“You eat avocado.” Verity rolled her eyes and Fliss shrugged as she filled a kettle. There was a moment’s silence as Fliss placed the kettle on to boil and her mum reached for two mugs. “So, you going to tell me why Frank’s an asshole?”

“Oh, just before.” Fliss shrugged, tossing teabags into the teapot. “He accused me of second guessing him when I said I wanted to call you about Alex.”

“Right.” Verity nodded, leaning back against the counter. “And you weren’t?”

“No, of course not.” Fliss looked at her mum and Verity shrugged.

“Okay,” she held her hands up, “but, try and see it from his point of view, sweetheart. He is his dad…”

“I know that…”

“…and he’s done this before. In fact he’s done this before the same amount of times I have.”

At that Fliss paused and took a deep breath as her mum continued.

“You and Steve are both my children, but don’t forget, I didn’t meet Steve until he was five. So my sum total experience of babies was from looking after you, which makes Frank as equally qualified as me, certainly from the six month mark anyway.”

Fliss hesitated, in all honesty she hadn’t thought about it that way. She let out a sigh as her eyes filled with tears and her mum gave her a small smile and gently touched her arm. “Hey, don’t get upset, come here…”

Fliss willingly stepped into her mums arms for a hug, sniffing a little as Verity gently stroked the back of her head. “Being a parent is stressful, and being a first time one is the scariest thing in the world, but I wish I’d had the support from someone like you get from Frank.”

“I know, and he’s great, he’s more than great he’s fantastic, sometimes I just,” Fliss sniffed and shrugged lamely as she pulled back a little, “you’re my mum, that’s all.”

“Yeah I was last time I checked.” Verity smiled and Fliss let out a soft chuckle as she stepped back. “But Frank is your fiancée, and Alex’s dad. I can understand why he got a little frustrated.”

“He’s never snapped at me before when I’ve called you for advice.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not feeling great is he?” Verity reasoned. “He’s most likely tired and a bit cranky and you just got the brunt, unfortunately. Isn’t that the way it works? You’re a snappy bitch with him often enough.”

“I know.” Fliss turned to the kettle. “Least he doesn’t beat me black and blue for it, huh?”

“Don’t.” Verity said sternly and Fliss poured the hot water into the tea pot.

“True though.” She sighed, before she shook her head. “Anyway, enough. What are you doing with the kids tonight?”

“Your Dad's pumping the inflatables up for the pool.” Verity took her tea with a thanks. “Then we’ve stocked up on sausages, burgers and enough soda and sweets to keep them wired for a week.”

“Standard night and Nanna and Granddad’s then.” Fliss smiled and Verity chuckled as the two of them made their way outside to sit in the garden.

“The twins are staying until the weekend.” Verity smiled. “Steve’s taking Sian off for a last little break before your wedding and the baby arrives. If you want to gather some more stuff for Mary, she can stay longer. We were going to take them to the waterpark on Thursday.”

“She’d love that. I’ll check with Frank as we’ve paid for summer camp, but I don’t think he’ll have an issue.”

“Issue with what?”

Both women looked up to see Frank stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes slightly. At the sight of him looking so tired and sick, Fliss felt all her earlier anger ebbing away and she took a deep breath.

“Oh, Mum was just saying, the twins are staying with her and dad until Friday, she suggested Mary might like to as well.”

“You don’t need to check with me.” Frank shook his head, his voice soft. “You’re her mom. If she wants to then, whatever.” Frank shrugged. “Not like we’re going to be doing anything at the moment, is it?”

“How are you feeling?” Verity looked at Frank and he gave a shrug.

“Crap.” He snorted, “How’s Bean?”

“He ate a few crackers and had some apple juice, he just seems tired.” Fliss shrugged.

To his credit, Frank didn’t mention the fact that she’d done exactly what he advised. Instead he nodded. “Good.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” Fliss offered. “Mum brought some chicken soup.”

“No, no offence V but my stomach isn’t quite ready for that.” He grimaced as Verity waved his apology off. “I just came for some air and to grab a drink.”

“Do you want me to make you a honey and ginger tea?” Fliss looked at him. “Might help.”

Frank gave her a soft smile, “sure, thanks.”

She stood up and passed him in the doorway, her hand softly brushing over his arm as she went. Once she’d gone, Frank stepped outside, taking in a breath as he let the sun warm his face. “You sure you don’t mind Mary staying for a few days?”

“Of course not.” Verity shook her head. “I was just saying to Fliss, we’re thinking of taking them all to the water park on Thursday.”

“She’ll love that.” Frank smiled, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“As long as it’s not an issue, Fliss said you’d already paid for camp.”

Frank shook his head. “It’s not expensive, plus you have to pay for the full summer up front, regardless. Just easier to make sure she has a place. As long as we tell them she won’t be there for the rest of the week it doesn’t matter.” He took a seat in one of the outside comfy chairs, and ran his hands over his face. “God, this is disgusting.”

Verity chuckled. “Yeah, it seems a pretty nasty bug. Make sure you rest up.”

“I’m bored of lying in bed.” He groaned.

“You’re just like Bill.” Verity looked at him, sternly. “Don’t be a stubborn bastard and rush around until you’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a salute and she narrowed her eyes playfully.

“And whilst we’re at it, I’ve spoken to Fliss about her being a snappy little madam.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me you’d had an argument before, and yes, before you say anything I can see your point but I can also see hers.” She looked at him. “I gave her a gentle reminder that my experience with babies amounts to the same as yours so I’m by no means more qualified but I’m glad she feels she can call me. It’s a support network I didn’t have, nor did you for that matter. And I bet you wish you did.”

Frank took a deep breath. “I know, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was just, well, a little frustrated, that’s all.”

“No, I know, I get it.” Verity assured him. “And so does she. Just maybe try not to be such a cranky little shit.”

At that Frank snorted and their conversation was cut off when Fliss appeared, placing a mug on the table in front of him.

“Thanks.” He smiled as she ran her hand through his hair affectionately. Reaching up, he caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I’m sorry I snapped before.” He looked at her and she smiled back.

“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t trust you something.”

“I should have pointed it out to you in a better way than I did.” Frank conceded, before his eyes playfully darted to Verity before they flicked back to Fliss’. “I was a cranky little shit.”

Verity chuckled and shook her head as Fliss smiled and moved to take her seat. Frank reached over for his drink and took a small sip, leaning back in his chair, happy to be outside the confines of the bedroom for a few moments, until his stomach gave a violent lurch, reminding him exactly why he hadn’t strayed far from the bathroom.

With a groan, he jumped up, almost falling over Thor in his haste and knowing full well he wasn’t going to make it to the toilet, he turned and violently spewed into the kitchen sink.

“Well,” Fliss sighed, standing up to go and help him out, “at least he’ll be bringing up nothing but water.” She pulled a face. “Don’t fancy fishing chunks out of the plug hole.”

*****

Frank woke early the next morning, having slept so much over the last forty-eight hours and he was pleased to report he was feeling much better. It was still quite dark outside and he took care as he climbed out of bed not to make too much noises. He padded over to the spare room, Fliss having chosen to sleep in there along with Alex in the travel crib so as not to disturb him too much, and was happy to see the pair of them fast asleep when he poked his head through the door. Thor eyed him a little before he stood up, stretching and wandered over, yawning.

“Wanna go out, pal?” Frank reached out and scratched the large dog behind his ear as his tail wagged lazily, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. “Okay, come on.”

It was an hour or so later he heard Fliss shout down the stairs. It was a frantic, broken yell of his name and in a flash he sprinted up onto the landing in time to see her bursting into the bathroom where she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

“Oh, baby.” He sighed, walking towards her but she waved him away.

“Alex,” she spluttered, before she turned and puked again and Frank instantly understood. Heading into the spare room, he picked up the baby who had himself thrown up, but was surprisingly cheerful all things considered. There were no tears, no fuss, just a huge grin for his daddy as he sat peering up at him.

“Not quite sure what you find so amusing.” Frank arched his eyebrow and swept the baby up, turning him so that the front of his vomit spattered romper was facing outwards, one large arm supporting his butt. He made his way back onto the landing to see Fliss now emerging, her face flushed and her eyes heavy.

“Go back to bed.” Frank nodded to their room, before he dropped a kiss to her forehead. “I got this.”

Without so much as a word of protest she headed into their bedroom, Thor following, and she closed the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, Alex was cleaned up and sat in his high chair next to Frank who was perched on a stool at the island, both of them munching on a banana. Alex’s appetite was back with gusto, but Frank was wary of overloading the tot’s stomach (and his own for that matter) so soon following their illness, so he had cut Alex’s banana into smaller pieces than normal in an attempt it would fool him into thinking he had eaten more. No such luck. As he finished the last piece he examined his now empty bowl and then looked at Frank, making a questioning noise.

“No more buddy, not yet.” Frank shook his head, chuckling as Alex reached for the one Frank had in his hand. “This is mine.” At that, Alex frowned and let out a loud noise of protest. Frank merely looked back at him again. “Complain all you want, it won’t get you anywhere.”

Once their breakfast was done, he carried him over to the play mat, watching him carefully as he entertained himself, crawling across the rug to get to some of his brightly coloured blocks. Frank played with him for a little while before he called both work and Joanne explaining the situation and that neither he nor Fliss would be in work that day. Once that was sorted, he then decided to take Alex out for some air into the garden, selecting a spot in the shade by the pool. By the time lunch time rolled around, neither of them had thrown up again, but there was no sign of Fliss. Frank set Alex down for a nap in his room, and headed over to check on her. She peered up at him from where she was led in bed, something playing on the TV and she gave him a weak smile.

“Hey.” He dropped onto the bed by her side, his hand running through her hair. “You need anything?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Is Bean okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s had a banana and some crackers for breakfast and a little more for lunch. So far so good, it hasn’t come back up.”

“Course I would have to get it too.” She grumbled and Frank chuckled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Well, were you really expecting anything else?” He smiled and she rolled her eyes.

“No, suppose not.” She shifted and stretched, grimacing a little. “Fuck, my back is starting to go funny.”

“Lying down too much?” He asked gently, knowing she struggled with that sometimes if she was on it for too long, a consequence of her accident all those years ago.

“Yeah, that and I think I pulled it puking.”

“Well, how about I draw you a bath and then you can come downstairs and rest on the couch?” He offered, his hand cupping her cheek. “I got plenty of cuddles and sympathy in me, especially now I know I’ve had it and therefore immune.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

It was little under half an hour later when Fliss made her way downstairs, dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy pony tail. Frank gave her a small smile and lifted his arm as she sat down next to him. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she cuddled up to him.

“You need anything?” Frank asked her softly and she shook her head, adjusting herself so she was comfy, snuggling into him a little further. Only it didn’t last long. Approximately five minutes later she gave a little whimper and shot up from the couch, running for the bathroom. Frank let out a sigh as he stood up and followed her, his large hand rubbing at her back as he knelt beside her whilst she puked into the downstairs toilet.

“Fuck this shit.” She groaned as she sat back, her face flushed, cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t wanna be ill. I hate you.”

“Me?” Frank chuckled.

“Yes, you. You gave this to me.”

“Well, actually, I think I gave it to Alex. Who likely gave it to you.”

“Exactly, you infected him and he infected me.”

“If we’re playing the blame game, then Mary is totally ‘Patient Zero’.”

Fliss looked at him, swallowing, before she moved him out of the way and retched again, only this time nothing much came up on account of her stomach being empty.

“I need water.” She mumbled.

“Okay, you want me to fetch you some here or are you done?”

“I’m done, for the time being. I think.” She sighed and Frank stood, pulling her to her feet. He waited whilst she splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth out before he gently scooped his arm round her as she slowly walked into the hallway, stumbling a little as she went. Not wanting her to fall and add a concussion to the mix, Frank easily swept her up into his arms, bridal style and she groaned.

“I’m not dying.”

“Well, you looked you were going to fall so, suck it up, Buttercup.” He shrugged, depositing her back on the couch before he made his way to the fridge. He came back with a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid before passing it to her. She took a large gulp, her face pale before she gave an exhausted sigh, the back of her forearm wiping at her forehead.

“Is it warm in here?” She frowned and Frank shook his head.

“The Air-Con is at normal temp. You’re running a slight fever, same as us.”

“Fantastic.” Fliss groaned, flopping down and stretching out beside him, laying her head in his lap.

“Well in my eyes you’ve always been hot.” Frank joked lamely, as his fingers gently ran down her neck and back, the same way she’d comforted him the previous day. She shook her head, scoffing at his lame joke.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Calling it how I see it, Lissy.” He chuckled, his hand gently brushing down the side of her face. “Try and get some rest, Sweetheart. You’ll feel better when you’ve slept, I promise.”

They sat in silence, eyes trained on the TV and when Alex woke a short while later, Frank glanced down to see Fliss had fallen asleep. Reaching for a pillow he gently moved her head, propping it up on the cushion, a soft sigh escaping him. She’d spent pretty much the entire last week taking care of them, it was certainly time to repay the favour.

“You gonna be quiet so you don’t disturb Momma?” He spoke in a hushed voice to Alex once he’d changed his diaper and carried him back downstairs. Alex made a little noise in response, a garble of sounds that sounded a little like 'Mama' when Frank thought about it. He had no doubt in his mind that the baby would be speaking sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, Mama.” Frank nodded as he opened the door to the family room. Fliss was still fast asleep and thankfully, Alex seemed content once he’d seen her to be distracted by Fred, who sauntered over towards him as he sat on the rug, his tail swishing in Alex’s face making him laugh as he went to grab it. Fred scooted off and Frank spoke, his voice low.

“Alex, no. We don’t pull tails.”

Alex looked at him before he gave a giggle and spun quickly onto all fours and shot after the animal as fast as he could crawl. With a roll of his eyes, Frank headed after him and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, lifting him up. Alex’s cackles rang around the room and despite himself, Frank chuckled as well as he spun the baby to face him, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He arched his eyebrow as he brought him back down to press a kiss to his cheek, before he extended his arms again, once more bringing him back towards him, more giggles bursting from Alex’s mouth as he continued to repeat the playful motion. “Cute, but a total menace.”

When Frank held Alex above him for a fourth time, it wasn’t a giggle that burst from the tot’s mouth. It was a steady stream of banana and rye barf which hit Frank straight in the face.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Frank grimaced, wiping his face on his shoulder, before he turned to look at Alex who grinned at him. “Thanks a lot, pal.”

**** Chapter 27

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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agustdef · 4 years ago

Text

Tiptoeing: Around You | m.

✰ Pairing: Christian Yu/Reader

› Genres: Smut, Fluff, Mildest of Angst

✰ Rating: 18+

› Warnings: Language

✰ Status: Oneshot

› In Collaboration: With @shadowsremedy who altered my plans a little, but I don’t mind it. Here is his fic, they’re both in the same universe: Tiptoeing: Around Love.

✰ Beta Read: @suhdays and @ppersonna

› Banner: @shadowsremedy

✰ Summary: YN has pined after Christian for a while, but after one more kick in the butt by her best friend and an evening in the same room she finally acts on those feelings.

› A/N: This fic was written for the sweet and mildly chaotic @dee-ehn for her birthday. You deserve the world, but since I cannot give you that we’re going to have to settle for some fictional content starring the ever handsome and rude Christian Yu. I hope you enjoy it love and I hope your day was great!

“Pft, you’re no better than me,” YN whispered into her phone.

There was a loud chuckle on the other side and then it stopped abruptly.

“Yeah, but at least I have a girlfriend. You’re out here acting like a lovesick puppy for a guy who is clearly into you. I don’t know how much sadder this can get at this point. It’s been months, YN,” Yoongi said.

Naturally, she rolled his eyes at his words. The fact that all of that was true mattered not. Or at least most of it was true, she wasn’t quite sure if Christian was into her. Everyone said he was and there were some signs, like flirting and being touchy but he was like that with a few of his close friends. That alone couldn’t be the indicator for his feelings. If they were feelings at all. For all she knew she and everyone else were seeing the signs of lust and not romantic feelings that led to a monogamous relationship.

At least that’s what the voice in her head told her when she got up the courage to think he actually liked her and planned to act on it. The pesky ass voice couldn’t let her have nice things.

Despite her clear acknowledgement of the factualness of what he said she couldn’t let him have the last word. It just wasn’t a true testament to their friendship if she didn’t try to gain the upper hand.

“Well, at least I’m not using fuckboy antics to get out of telling the person I’m dating I love them. You can’t use that psycho bitch, who tried to kill me might I add, as an excuse for why you don’t say it forever, Yoon. Especially since you know Jamie isn’t like that. But you gotta take the plunge and talk to her before too much time has passed and she won’t want to listen anymore.”

There was a brief silence before a dramatic sigh left his lips. YN could imagine the look on his face as he did it too. A mix of sadness, resignation, and annoyance at the fact that she was right. They wouldn’t be such close friends if they both didn’t hate being proven wrong while also understanding the other enough to know when it was the right moment to push it.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“Okay! You’re right. But you need to stop tiptoeing around the subject and just tell him already. He likes you, let him know you feel the same way,” he said.

That got YN to sigh with about as much feeling as Yoongi had. Her body felt tired as she thought of having to speak those words, but she realized she really needed to get it over with. Even if she threw up in the process, it had to happen.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Hm? What was that?” he mocked her.

“Okay, damn. I’ll do it. So annoying.”

Again, he laughed and it made her happy to hear him not so down like he’d been for days. Of course, the laughter could only help so much, but it was better than nothing.

Biting her lower lip her head turned so she looked at the studio door where the man who she was losing it over was. He waited for her to bring in snacks and she’d stopped part way to call Yoongi about something unrelated to the conversation they had. One that she was so lost in that she didn’t realize twenty minutes more than needed had gone by.

“Shit, I have to go. I should have been back already. I’ll call you later. Love you. Bye.” she said.

Yoongi laughed. “Love you too.”

With that she hung up the call and took a deep breath before walking towards the studio door. Her hand grasped the knob for a few seconds as she took a deep breath and thought over Yoongi’s words. Maybe the all-nighter they planned was the right place or maybe it was the worst possible place for her to do that since she’d still have work to do if he reacted negatively.

When she finally opened the door and stepped in she’d decided to just see what happened. There would be no forcing herself to say anything about it or actively stopping herself. For once she’d go with the flow, with a bit of hope that she’d randomly get the urge to blurt it out like she sometimes did.

Upon her entry Christian’s head whipped up to look at her. He stared her down as she kicked off her shoes and made her way to her seat. The expression on his face didn’t give way to his thoughts, but she assumed he was confused as to why it took her so long to get back.

“You get lost?” he asked, taking the bag from her.

“Nope. Just had a phone call.”

Christian paused for a second, his brow raised in question.

“Yoongi?”

YN didn’t stop what she was doing for many people, especially when it came to work related things needing to be done. But Yoongi was her oldest friend and she’d hop on a plane without a moment's notice if he needed her. That meant that usually people could guess who she’d been talking to easily.

“Yeah. He wanted to whine some,” she said.

Her attention moved to the computer in front of her, which still held the work she’d left off on. Christian had messed with something a little, but for the most part had seemed to be focused on what went on upon his own screen. Something about what he was doing reminded her of a thing she’d forgotten with the clip was editing and despite the hunger that plagued her she went straight into work. Of course, she felt Christian’s eyes on her the whole time and heard him chewing away at the snacks in the bag but her mind hyper focused so none of that matter.

About fifteen minutes passed before her hands stopped moving and Christian used that to pull her chair for the desk. Her immediate reaction was to tell him off, but he shoved half of a sandwich towards her mouth and she found herself biting it without a thought. That brought a smug expression to his face, but she merely rolled her eyes and snatched the sandwich.

There was some small protest from him, but it stopped as she took another bite of the sandwich. YN was so hungry that she hadn’t really chewed anything or tasted it for that matter. She’d had little to eat throughout the day because they’d needed some last-minute shots and that left her running here and there. Anything consumed was burned off within an hour or two. Which is why Christian had offered they go get dinner first, but she knew a heavy meal would make her focus on editing harder. Food made her sleepy most of the time.

“Slow down,” Christian said, his Australian accent thickening with the worry in his tone.

But his warning was too late because she’d shoved the last piece into her mouth and swallowed it. Her hand reached for the other in his hand, but he gently pushed it away and handed her an opened water instead. She glared at him but drank down the water; though with the way he stared at her she stopped herself from downing half of it in a few seconds. Sips were slow and small until she felt her throat less dry.

“Now can I have the other half?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet and a pout on her lips.

For a moment Christian just stared his eyes focused on something on her face. At first, she wondered if she’d gotten anything on it while eating, but then she watched him bite his lower lip and his eyes flicker up to her’s and then down again. She thought that he had to be looking at her lips and her heart did a thing, though her mind wasn’t sure if it was him wanting to kiss her or something being on them. In a moment of uncertainty, she wiped at the lip and came up with nothing, but that seemed to be enough to snap Christian out of whatever trance he’d been in.

Without a word he passed her the other half of the sandwich and then got busy unwrapping his own. Silence followed with a few words spoken here and there when one of them stared at either screen long enough to have a question rise up. It was a good little break from YN’s thoughts about what happened minutes before and also got her mind ready for what she was going to do for the next several hours. Dread filled her, but knew it wasn’t impossible by any means.

“Ready?” Christian asked after finishing off his tea.

YN nodded and just like that they got to work.

Christian was to focus on piecing together a visual that would encompass the entire comeback the Dabin planned, while YN was focused on getting through the main music video. There were some others she had to do, but they were all shorter and didn’t need some of the magic that the main one did. Part of her cursed the team for being so damn ambitious, but it kept her on her toes so she couldn’t complain. Well, wouldn’t complain until she felt the urge to pull out her hair because something wasn’t working.

But for once she went through her edits without any real roadblocks. She navigated the things that they’d talked about adding and her own ideas for things to flow seamlessly. There were a few snags here and there, but they were nothing that she couldn’t fix in a few minutes or that Christian couldn’t help her with.

They’d long learned to work together fluidly so all of it came easily.

A few hours in YN pulled her headphones off and pushed her chair away from the desk. Carefully, she stood up and stretched her body since it got a little stiff from sitting in one position for so long. Once she’d properly given them the movement they needed a yawn ripped free from her lips and she felt a wave of tiredness hit her. Of course, she wasn’t done by any means.

“I’m going to get something hot and something with caffeine from the kitchen, you want anything?” she asked.

Christian didn’t respond so she poked him hard and repeated herself, he shook his head no without ever glancing her way. She knew he’d complain later, but she didn’t have it in her to pester him, so she slipped on a pair of slides near the door and ventured out.

The kitchen in the building DPR was set up in wasn’t too far from Christian’s studio, in fact she walked back fifteen feet to get to it. Something she was thankful about because despite being in motion she felt her body grow more tired as each second passed. It’s why she was quick to grab an energy drink from the fridge and down that thing. It was followed by the consumption of red ginseng because it always helped her in some way. Or at least she placebo effected herself into that thought. After she moved to make herself some hot chocolate. Thankfully, they had a Keurig, so she didn’t have to worry about heating water herself. By the time it was done she’d gotten a few large marshmallows from her hidden stash and happily deposited on top of the hot, chocolatey liquid.

With her energy drinks consumed and her hot beverage ready she made her way back to the room. She took care not to spill any of the drink and sat it down on the small table that Christian kept over on her side. It was where she sat all her drinks or food out of fear that she would knock it over if it were on the desk with all the equipment.

The moment her butt hit the chair there was a frustrated grunt and Christian all but threw his headphones down. His right hand moved to card through his hair and his eyes closed as he let out a harsh breath.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she moved closer.

There was no response, but she waited for him to get his bearings. Sometimes editing made you so annoyed that words failed to come together right away. There had been many instances where someone asked her questions and all they got in return was grunts or her starting a word only to scream halfway through.

A minute or two went by before he opened his eyes and spoke up.

“I just can’t get it to transition like I want. I’ve been trying different methods for the last hour and assumed I wanted to try out all the options, but they just fuckin’ suck. I don’t want it to suck. It needs to not suck.”

“I doubt it sucks, let me see,” she said as she moved even closer.

However, Christian was having none of it and knocked his chair into hers so she’d go back onto her side. He was stubborn as hell when in a mindset of defeat, so she had to be persistent. She knocked chairs with him a few more times before getting up. Before he could steady himself she pushed it back and it rolled almost to the door. Standing she leaned over and looked at what he had. Nothing sucked per se, but she could see what his issue was.

She got several clicks in before he protested again.

“I’ll just choose one and come back to it tomorrow or something. It’s fine, you have your own stuff to work on.”

“Shh.”

“Did you just shh me?” he asked incredulously.

Rolling her eyes she turned around to glare at him but froze up when she realized he was standing and doing it awfully close to her. His head was tilted down as he stared at her and with the way she’d held her head up high their faces where maybe an inch apart.

In an instant the atmosphere changed and YN did not know what to do. Part of her screamed to back away quickly and the other part of her wanted her to close the gap. The voices in her head were at war and then she noticed his eyes on her lips again and threw out all fear.

As she leaned closer Christian did too and soon enough their lips were pressed against each other. The initial kiss was chastise, something to test the waters, but once they got comfortable with it the intensity grew. Their heads tilted and their bodies pressed closer together. Soon enough YN’s fingers were threaded in his hair and his hands caressed her hips and ass.

With her lips on his all thoughts kind of left her, besides how soft they were and how she wished she’d kissed him sooner. And how she didn’t want to stop doing it.

Christian squeezed her ass a little too hard though and in retaliation she slowed the kiss and bit his lower lip. When he stilled she worried about if he didn’t like that, but then he released a sound akin to a growl. His lips were on hers again in seconds and she got so wrapped up in the kiss that she didn’t realize that he’d started lowering onto his chair and bringing her with him. She didn’t start to pay attention until he had her straddle one of his thighs.

He wasted no time with subtlety bouncing that thigh causing a bit of friction between her legs. It was bearable for a while but then he pressed a little hard and her lips parted as a gasp escaped them. Christian took that as a chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, swirling around hers. Though compliant with all his actions YN did try to gain control of the kiss, but all it took was another firm grazing of her crotch to have her moaning out. One bounce in particular had her pulling away from his lips.

But just because she stopped didn’t mean that Christian did, his lips went to kiss along her collarbone which was readily exposed in the off the shoulder top she wore. The feeling of them on her skin sent a shiver up her spine and inadvertently had her grinding down on his thigh, which only got her even more excited.

Her pleasure must have been apparent because once again Christian’s hands were on her hips. Unlike before though he used that leverage to move her along his thigh. With his lips still kissing across her shoulder and neck he moved her back and forth, ensuring he was pressing down enough that she could feel the friction despite her shorts.

The pace was slow at first, but it was enough to ensure that YN was growing wetter by the second. Her body felt on fire and it didn’t help when Christian began to suckle hickies onto her. She felt very stimulated and that’s what caused her to cry out in pleasure when he began to speed up the pace.

“Fuck,” she said.

“Oh, we’ll definitely get to that, but why don’t you take over and ride my thigh, baby? Get yourself worked up for me,” he whispered in her ear, slowly pulling away but not before biting gently on the lobe.

YN did not need to be told twice. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she sat firmly on his thigh before dragging herself back and forth. At first, she was frustrated because she couldn’t find the right amount of pressure to feel anything worthwhile, but before she could give up Christian started guiding her.

“Just like that. Yeah, you’re doing so good for me. Keep going and you can pick up the pace. Make yourself feel good,” he said.

There was no verbal response from YN besides the moans she released when the friction truly started up. Goosebumps covered her skin the more she got into, her body tingled and she wanted more. Craved more.

But the look in Christian’s eyes as he watched her get herself off was too good a sight. His eyes had darkened a bit and she could see the lust in them. It didn’t help that he was biting his lower lip as his eyes remained firmly on the thigh she was on. He was enjoying the show and she wanted to give him more, so she kept going and her pace quickened again.

Though her pace change was also out of desperation. She’d gotten worked up quickly and despite how good his thigh felt her orgasm felt out of reach. Getting closer to it was all she wanted, so she moved with a vigor that could get her there.

That didn’t fly with Christian though, his hands held her still.

“No, no. You are not cumming on my thigh. You’re doing that with me inside of you,” he said.

YN groaned. “Then get inside of me.”

That elicited a laugh from him and made YN finally look directly into his eyes. He appeared very amused by how she’d responded.

“I should have known you’d be just as bossy like this.”

Naturally, that ended with her lightly slapping his shoulder which brought on more laughter from him. She was ready to get off his lap after that but yet again he held her in place.

The thing was that unlike before the expression on his face was softer and less like that of a man who said she would only cum on his dick.

“I know this is ruining the moment, but before I bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t walk I want to be very clear with you. I want to be with you. This is not me just fucking you because I find you attractive as hell. Got it?” he said.

Though she wanted to roll her eyes at his delivery she couldn’t help but smile as happiness filled her. Hearing him say it made her night and she would stay like she was or cuddled up to him for the rest of the evening, but there was a persistent problem still between her legs.

She leaned forward and leaned towards his ear to whisper, “And I want to be with you, but we can discuss that later. For now you have a problem to fix and a lot to prove if you think you’re going to put me on bedrest tomorrow.”

It didn’t take long for him to get her off his lap. He barked orders about getting off her shorts and panties while he ran out of the room for a moment. By the time he returned she was undressed on her lower half and bent over on the desk. Her legs were spread slightly and it gave him the view of her glistening pussy, just like she wanted.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

YN tried to keep the laughter from escaping her at his reaction knowing he’d probably tease her if she did. There was no time for all that, she needed him inside her as soon as possible.

Once she heard the sound of pants unzipping and dropping she felt herself perk up. Her ass rose up a little more and that seemed to pull another groan from Christian who sounded like he was fumbling with something behind her. She was going to ask if he needed help but then she felt the head of his dick press against her slit and she moaned.

Slowly he moved it between the lips of her pussy causing her to push back wanting more. The feeling was so good, but she still needed him to go further. Thankfully, he didn’t keep her waiting for long. Before she could fully process it he’d pushed inside of her completely. There was some discomfort from the sudden intrusion–one that was the first of its kind in a year–but he didn’t move and she adjusted fast. The stretch still felt a bit odd, but not something she hated. In fact, she loved the feeling of being full of him.

“You can move,” she said.

He didn’t need to be told twice because in the next second he was moving at a moderate pace. His hips moved back and forth, while one hand on her back kept him balanced.

YN’s eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the feeling of him. She’d been worked up enough that she was more than prepared for him, but also enough that she was sensitive. It wasn’t the same level as if she’d orgasmed, but it was enough to have her feeling extra with every stroke.

After several thrusts at that speed Christian suddenly sped up out of nowhere. It was enough that her hips moved away from the desk and hit against it every time he slammed back into her. It was a little painful, but the feeling of his dick pushing into her and hitting just the right spot made up for it. Her moans had been soft before, but with each thrust she grew louder.

At some point she was almost screaming out because of the brutal pace, but that didn’t mean that he slowed down. In all honesty it felt like he went harder and she loved every second of it. Wanted him to never stop.

And because she was so focused on how he felt she didn’t notice the tightening in her stomach and the way she was close to the edge until she was over it. Her eyes opened wide as her orgasm crashed through her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said.

Despite the clear indication that she’d come Christian didn’t stop. His pace slowed down some, but he kept pistoning into her. As she finished the last moment of her high the sensitivity set in, but she found herself building up again. Her pussy wanted a break, but she wanted him to keep going.

While she was ready to stay bent over for him until he came, Christian had other plans. Using his right arm he wrapped it around her torso and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. That hand moved down to rub her clit, something that had hips bucking because it felt like too much. She squirmed a lot, but then his left hand came around to wrap around her throat and she stilled.

“You’re going to give me another one, right?” he asked, though she knew it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Without another word spoken by either of them he kept her how she was and continued to thrust into her, but his intense pace from before returned. His hand continued to rub and pinch her clit, which caused her to vibrate in pleasure. Plus, his hand remained around her throat squeezing every so often and she loved it more than she cared to admit. So much that her next orgasm came a little quicker than the last.

There was a weird feeling in her stomach though, but she had no time to assess it before she came. Her pussy spasmed and then she felt an intense pressure before she felt her thigh grow wet.

She’d squirted all over his dick and herself.

“Fuck, definitely going to have to do that again some other time,” he murmured.

YN didn’t even have it in her to respond to him, she just relaxed against her body as he continued fucking her. It took a minute or two before his precision slipped and she heard him moan out. He didn’t stop until he finished cumming and then he just stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily against her.

Three minutes passed with them like that before YN said something.

“We can’t stand here all night. Also, I’m so tired from this and working, we gotta rap this up.”

Christian laughed, but pulled out. From there YN leaned against the desk trying to orient herself. In that time Christian had discarded the condom and pulled his pants back up. He helped her do the same, though he didn’t bother fixing her pants completely. H

Carefully he turned her around to face him and smiled at her clearly exhausted, but happy face.

“How about we take showers, get changed, and call it a night? If you want you can stay at mine and we can start first thing in the morning,” he said.

Not one second was wasted debating it, YN just nodded in agreement.

“If I can shower and sleep I’ll be happy.”

That made Christian smile wider and then he leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips. He moved away to lead the way out, but YN took one step before reaching out to grip his arm. Worry colored his expression and then when he noticed the way her legs seemed to shake a little a smirk made its way onto his face.

“What was that about me having to prove something?” he asked.

“Fuck you.”

#danicaday #kwritersworldnet #christian yu x reader #christian x reader #christian yu smut #christian yu fluff #dpr ian x reader #christian yu #dpr ian #yu barom #khh fanfic #krnb fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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dameronology · 3 years ago

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the one with the proposal (finn x reader)

i would add a summary, but the title feels fairly explanatory - for @phoenixhalliwell - i hope u enjoy!!

warnings; language

- jazz xx

Finn had been in love with you since the moment he met you. Maybe he hadn't realised it at the time, but it made sense now.

It was funny, looking back - the first time you'd met, under the thick jungles of Ajan Kloss, both damp in sweat from the heat and hearts racing from the tense atmosphere. Finn had practically tripped and fallen on his ass in front of you; you'd immediately noticed the fact that he hadn't run away in embarrassment. Instead, he burst into fits of laughter and humoured himself, cracking a joke about how clumsy he was. He'd stood out to you since that moment, for his ability to make the best of a bad situation. It had been a saving grace during the war's worst moments, and he'd been the driving force behind the entire Resistance. It was hard to believe that a man who had been through so much, both in his past and present, could keep so positive. It started to make sense when you realised how golden his heart was.

Given his formative years in the First Order, Finn had never been introduced to the idea of soulmates. It was something that his friends spoke about - Rey, when she dreamily gushed about Han and Leia, or Poe on a weekly basis whenever he saw a hot person in the nearby cantina - but he could never quite get his head around the idea. How could there be one person for everyone when there were billions of people in the galaxy? Mathematically speaking, it was impossible that fate would let every person find their soul-mate. It sounded more like a drag than anything, waiting around for the perfect person.

Still, every time Finn saw you across a crowded room, or caught you smiling out the corner of his eye, a little part of him did wonder. Maybe you were soulmates - even if you got annoyed at him for leaving the lid up on the refresher, or if you constantly left your shoes in places that he might trip over them. Or maybe, just maybe, you were two people in love and made an effort. Two people who had worked for your relationship until it felt like you were soul-mates. Because things weren't perfect; sure, there were moments, but you had worked hard for it. You'd both prioritised communication, and tried to iron out your far-and-few arguments in mature ways. It wasn't always easy, and you did test each other's patience at times, but you were always, always sure in your relationship. Maybe your love wasn't perfect, but it was real. And it was strong and constant.

That was how Finn knew he wanted to marry you - because he doubted a lot of things, but he had never doubted you. After the war, you'd been through some of the worst things imaginable, and you'd never strayed from his side, or him from yours. When things had been really bad, and during the moments when it felt like the First Order were creeping towards victory, you'd made giddy promises to one another. That after the war, you would get married and settle down. They'd been day-dreams at the time, really.

But now that you had settled down in Coruscant, with a cozy little apartment and with stable jobs, Finn knew it was time. You were working hard training new pilots and he was dedicating himself to training as a Jedi; things were falling into place, and he felt ready for the next step. It was just a matter of working out how.

Naturally, he went to Poe for advice - which was funny really, because the man fell in love four times a week and had never proposed to a single person in his life.

(Unless you counted the drunk pact he'd once made with Finn about getting married if neither of them were wed by the time they were thirty-five. Ah, what could have been).

"Poe, I don't know what to do," Finn had stressed to him one day over a drink. As usual, they'd met at a cantina in downtown Coruscant on a Tuesday night. It was the one week they always set aside, in what Poe had colloquially christened guy's night.

"I consider myself to be a romantic," Poe began, "but it doesn't need to be anything big. What really matters is what comes after."

"Like our life together and stuff?"

"I was thinking more a wedding with an open bar," he countered, "but sure! After the wedding with an open bar, your life together is what's important."

Finn sighed. "What if they think I'm cheaping out?"

"C'mon," he reached across the table, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "It's you two - you could propose at a dumpsite and they would still say yes."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Poe shot back. "I don't think it'll matter where or when you do it. I think you'll just know."

Finn nodded unsurely - he wanted to believe Poe's larger-than-life spiel about just knowing. Because Finn was smart and intuitive, but even he wasn't sure he was intelligent enough to just know things. Similar to all the old tales of soul-mates and true love, he was just a little too much of a realist to believe it. It wasn't a testament to you or your relationship, because Finn knew with his entire soul that he loved you, and that there was very little that could change that. He just always put it down to sheer dumb luck; luck that you'd found each other, luck that you'd managed to work hard for such a sustaining and comforting relationship.

After downing a few more beers, it was gone 11PM. Finn rarely stayed out late, but his weekly catch-ups with Poe were the exception, and you had never minded. You and Finn trusted each other with your lives, so you it was rare that you ever doubted why he was out after dark. Provided he was there when you woke up the next morning, you didn't all that much mind if he was in the next room or the next planet.

Your apartment wasn't too far from the bar - a few blocks over, tucked away between an old diner and a land-speeder fuel station. When you'd first moved here, the place was just meant to be a go-between until you found yourselves a little more on your feet job and money wise. But, as the last two years had passed, you'd found yourselves becoming more and more settled. It was now filled with memories of the lives you built; it was the opposite of minimalism, crammed to the brim with pictures and blankets and random objects. Not to mention the lightsaber marks on the wall courtesy of Finn, that meant you would never get your deposit back.

The lights in the living area were off, save for a small lamp in the corner. You were curled up on the couch, a knitted blanket thrown over you. A book was cascaded just beside it on the floor - you'd obviously fallen asleep reading and dropped it.

Finn could have stayed in that moment forever; you looked beautiful under the golden glow of the old lamp, peacefully snoozing in the home you'd spent so long building for yourselves. It wasn't perfect - far from it, in fact - but it was yours. It was yours and his, and that was all that mattered.

Apartment aside, you were his home. You were the person who he felt most comfortable with; the person who he always wanted by his side, through thick and thin. Neither of you needed to get engaged or married to prove your love for one another, but those naive, war-time promises were still something he held close to his heart. You were his main support system during that time - you'd helped him adjust to life outside the First Order. Everything had seemed so scary to him then, and you'd guided him through it. Not to mention that you'd constantly encouraged him, nor had you ever once doubted him. Now, Finn wanted to give back to you - even if it was something as simple as fulfilling a simple promise he'd made a few years ago.

That's when the penny dropped for Finn, and Poe's voice rung in his head.

You'll just know.

It hit him like a ton of bricks - not that he just knew know, but he'd known this whole time. Since the moment he'd seen you in the sweaty forests on that cursed jungle planet, he had known. Not in a spiritual, soul-mate way, just in a...him way. In the same way he knew that the sky was blue and trees were green, he knew you were the one for him.

Quietly creeping across the room, Finn picked up your book and placed it on the coffee table. He knelt down beside you and ran a hand across your cheek-bone, gently smiling when you sleepily nuzzled against it.

"Hey, trouble," he whispered.

"Hey," you peeled one eye open, beaming back at him. "I missed you."

"I only left four hours ago."

"Mmm," you murmured. "Four hours too long - how's Poe?"

"He's good," Finn replied. "I think he drank a bit too much."

"Typical Dameron," you quipped.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you moved over slightly so that there was room for Finn. He kicked off his shoes and took the seat beside you, raising his arm as a signal to lean against him. You took it, flopping against his side and pulling the blanket over both of you. Even though the end of the day was closing in, the smell of his after-shave still lingered, just mixing in with the faint smell of leather from his jacket. It was a comforting scent for you.

"I have a question," Finn quietly said.

"Oh yeah?"

"I..." he faltered for a moment, trailing off. "I haven't really planned this to be honest, but this feels like the right time, and if I don't do it now, I know I won't find the guts to do it for a long time."

Sitting up, Finn shuffled so that he was facing you. He took your hands in his, tightly gripping them as he took a deep breath.

It was only natural that you were panicking a little. His statement had been...ominous to say the least. It could have been a proposal or a break-up. Heck, it could be something a lot simpler than that. That didn't stop your heart picking up in your chest.

"I love you," Finn began. "You know that, but I feel like I should really stress it - I love you, and I love this little life we've built for ourselves. I know it hasn't always been easy and I know life will throw more stuff at us, but I know that as long as we're together, it'll be okay."

He could tell that you were still half-asleep, tired eyes barely taking in his words. At the same time, though, it seemed like you were completely consuming them, hands gripping his even harder with each passing moment. You didn't know where it was going, but you liked the sound of it.

"I guess you know all that, though," he continued. "But I've been thinking lately a lot about all the things we spoke about during the war and we've done most the stuff we said we would, bar one thing. And it feels like an important thing, so...will you marry me?"

You gave him a watery smile. Maybe you'd seen it coming, but maybe it had blind-sided you too. That was the thing with Finn; he was both predictable and extremely surprising at the same time.

"Of course I will," you grinned. "Of course."

"I don't have a ring yet," Finn confessed. "I guess I got a little trigger happy-"

"- I don't care!" you cut him off. "The ring doesn't matter, okay? We'll get one at some point. All that matters is that you're going to be legally tied to me for all of eternity."

"Sure, that's one way of putting it," he gave you another grin.

Leaning across, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. You stayed like that for a moment, before Finn pulled you closer by the waist and into a tight hug.

It hadn't been the ground-breaking, romantic proposal that he had in mind, but it had been perfect at the same time. It was so quintessentially him; casual and sweet, and filled with love. Even more annoyingly, Poe had been absolutely right about the time and place and mattering - but of course, Finn was never going to admit that to him.

finn tags/everything tags: @crystalized-drumming @karasong @megmeg-chan

#finn x reader #finn x you #finn imagine #finn imagines #finn reader insert #finn fluff #finn fan fiction #star wars fan fiction #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fluff #star wars reader insert #star was

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

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Okay, here we go! Imma do my liveblog of The Hunger Games, Chapter One, for #THGagain :

I’ll put my thoughts underneath the cut so I don’t clog up the dash 🥳

Okay but right off the bat, Katniss says her mattress cover is rough 🥺. I don’t know, this just made me sad all of a sudden.

So okay, but the fact that Prim had a bad dream and climbed in with their mother? I don’t know if that indicates that Prim still sees their mother as a source of comfort whereas Katniss can’t let herself feel the same way or if it’s just because she didn’t want to wake Katniss.

Maybe it’s supposed to be that Prim is too naive to understand that their mother is mentally fragile? Since in Mockingjay, she says “I know there’s only so much mother can hear,” or something like that, as a way to prove she’s not a little kid anymore sooo. I don’t know. Just some thoughts.

Katniss is shady towards mama right off the bat 🤣. Katniss is shady no matter what though. It’s what makes her narration sound like a teenage girl.

If Katniss is so anti-social though, who’s telling her her mother was once beautiful?

As a cat lover, I take offense to Katniss’ insults to the poor one eyed furball 😭.

So coal miners are also women? I suspected as much but I didn’t realize it was explicitly stated? So if Katniss’ life had gone differently, would she have become a coal miner?

So none of the houses in Twelve get electricity outside of a couple hours a night? Or just in the Seam?

I always forget that Katniss had nightmares even before the games 😔😔😔. Nightmares of her father “being blown to bits.” She has a vivid way with words.

Her father made her bow 🥺🥺. I knew that. I just thought I should mention it again. She uses the bow her father handmade throughout the series 🥺.

Also she says Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to “the few of them who hunt”. A few is more than two. Who else besides Katniss and Gale go hunting?

I like that she randomly starts mumbling to herself 🤣🤣🤣

Once upon a time, Katniss was outspoken apparently. But she mentions that she has to hold her tongue even at home because Prim may repeat her words. I don’t know why, but Prim seems immature for twelve years old. At twelve, in today’s society, you’re going into sixth grade. A sixth grader should know how to keep a secret or hold her tongue.

Gale says she never smiles but in the woods but isn’t that the only place they really spend time together? 🤣

“I kind of liked that lynx but I liked the money I got for it’s pelt more” 😂😂😂

An arrow inside bread. How fortuitous 😭😭😭

I do love that Katniss’ first introduction of Gale is “he could be my brother”

“But we’re at least not that closely related” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

“Katniss, get off your cousin”

Even though the merchant class is smaller

Meaning they’re even more inbred

And Katniss is half merch-

Okay I’m done with this line of thinking 🤭😅

So backwoods 🤣

So did Mrs. Everdeen’s parents disown her? Or what? Do they still own that apothecary shop? Does Katniss occasionally walk by her grandparents in the town square? Like I’d like more context here, Suz 🙃

Aww, I always feel so bad for Katniss when she talks about her mother abandoning her 😭😩🥺

“But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type” me either. Me either 🤧.

This may be why I so closely relate to her when she’s angry.

And why when people in the book say she needs to be more forgiving (ala Haymitch) I’m like “no”

I’m sorry but on second glance (more like 8th glance because I’ve read this chapter since I was 16) it’s so obvious Gale was hitting on her here 😅.

She’s oblivious 🤣🤣🤣

As she should be 😆

So later on, in the second book at least, Katniss definitely has some high respect for Hazelle Hawthorne. But here it seems to be like she’s implying Hazelle and her own mother are useless without her and Gale, and like they wouldn’t be able to provide for themselves. Maybe Hazelle just wasn’t fleshed out to Suzanne when she wrote the first book, the same way the love triangle you can tell if you look is sort of just tossed in there in the first book too? Anyways, just a thought.

That line about Prim being the only person Katniss is certain that she loves is sweet (it’s actually one of my favorite lines in the series) but it’s also so shady at the same time 😅😅😅. Like girl, you’re not sure if you love your mother or even your best friend (in a platonic way)?

Katniss makes a point in mentioning it took a long time for her and Gale to become friends. And I feel like that has been simplified a lot along the way, but it never really sounded to me like Katniss and Gale were besties for as long as most people think. The movies are a lot to blame for this, I know.

I don’t actually think Katniss is truly jealous here of the other girls wanting Gale? I feel like if she were she would have unconsciously insulted the school girls who were into him instead of just outright saying she was jealous, just not for romantic reasons. But who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️.

It was already mentioned earlier but I think Suzanne made a continuity error here, when Gale and Katniss mentioned fishing at the lake. The lake is a place Katniss explicitly mentioned in Catching Fire, to be private between her and her father. She even specially said she never took Gale there. I feel much better about my own writing continuity errors now.

Okay, both Katniss and Gale are so dumb. I would never prepare a feast for after the reaping. They’re just jinxing themselves. I have OCD really bad no one come for me.

I like how The Hob is a black market that’s literally just sitting in broad daylight 🤣🤣🤣.

Katniss just referenced being attacked by dogs... um I’m sorry, do we have no fear of rabies in this universe? 😭😭🙃🙃😐😐😅😅

Katniss : “me and the mayor’s daughter aren’t friends, we just hang out all the time at school, eat lunch together, sit by each other and are always partners. But weren’t not friends.” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I like the mention of hair ribbons for the rich girl. This is just the fic writer in me seeping into my reading.

Gale and Madge’s little dispute ...

I see why they get shipped together 😅. They’re both just taking swipes at each other here.

Awww, Katniss sticking up for Madge, even though Madge is the privileged one 😭. Katniss has such a pure heart.

The entire point of the Madge/Gale interaction though was just to set up the class divide explanation in Katniss’ head to the reader.

But my Peeta centric heart also picks up on the comments in Katniss’ head of how unlikely it is to be chosen at the reaping when you’re a town kid.

In other words, Peeta had a slim to none chance of being chosen and still was.

Now I think of it, so was Prim...

That was just an unlucky reaping for the kids without tesserae 🙃

Also it reminds me of every fic I ever read that mentioned a conspiracy in the reapings and how the kids aren’t actually chosen at random but anyways I digress

I feel Gale though, with the whole idea of knowing something isn’t this person’s fault and there’s nothing they could do but still being so angry at them because it isn’t fair that you have to suffer and they don’t.

My anger issues are really showing 😅😅😅.

Honestly though, if Katniss is saying Gale on a normal day is rational about the class divide not being merchants faults, then clearly his issues with Peeta later on really were just of jealousy and not because he was a merchant vs Seam.

I just feel like I’ve seen that around and I’m not really convinced

In my interpretation of the character, Katniss’ reasons for not sharing in Gale’s rage comes from exhaustion after a lifetime of powerlessness. Some people (re: females more often) just get worn out about the things they cannot change and can’t even let it get inside their brain because there’s nothing they could do about it.

I mean, she is a more understanding person than Gale but I feel like so much of her character is already so tired right from chapter one.

Okay, just a pointless rambling thought

“Where something pretty” these children are so shady 🤣🤣🤣 that’s a line I would say though

The fact that her like 42 year old mother still fits in a dress she wore at like 20 is really a testament to how hungry they are 🤧🤧🤧

Okay but I’m not trying to pick on her mother, but when they were starving, why did either she or Katniss sell the fancy clothes from her apothecary days? I’m nitpicking I know. I’m a nitpicker.

Also good for Katniss trying to forgive her mother.

God knows how hard it is for me to try and forgive people.

Literally, God knows.

I like that Katniss didn’t disagree with Prim saying she’s beautiful, just that she doesn’t usually look this way 😂😂😂.

I just know my sister wouldn’t let me not take tesserae if this was us. She’d be like “you’ll be fine, four entries? Please. We can have more food for an entire year, don’t be selfish.” 😅😅😅

I feel like noting that Katniss and Prim’s age gap isn’t that significant? Four years? That’s not that large. Not even at 12 and 16.

They herd these children off like they’re .... pigs going to a slaughter... 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss casually stating “I could be shot on a daily basis” 😐😐😐

Katniss and Gale agreeing they’d rather be shot than starve is honestly so sad but lowkey sounds like something two teenagers would say. They should have put dialogue like this in the movies.

I didn’t even remember District 12 has 8,000 people.... why’d I think they only had 3,000????

I need to update some of my fics with this information

Katniss just said “televised by the state”. I’ve never heard her call any region a state before?

I like that Katniss calls Effie’s grin scary and white, because tons of people (i.e me) whiten our teeth in today’s society. And to Katniss and probably all of Twelve that’s creepy. I think it’s weird to Europeans too but l digress.

Also do the people in this district brush and floss, they never seem to mention it in the books, ya know?

Honestly the idea of the hunger games sounded cooler without Songbirds and Snakes telling us it was just some dumb guy’s idea that no one ever thought would come true.

Aww, sugar is a delicacy 🤧🤧🤧

I knew already that but lemme fully feel that sentiment for a moment okey

Umm I’m sorry, did Mayor Undersee just casually state Lucy Gray Baird’s name every year and we never knew it? Did Snow just allow this? Seems suspish

Also the idea of Katniss being her distant relative and hearing the name and not knowing the connection... and yeah, anyways. I got wayyyy ahead of myself and off track sorry

Why would Haymitch hug Effie? I’m sorry, but Hayffie having a secret affair at some point in all the years they worked together seems more likely than I thought.

I mean, Katniss never mentions Haymitch hugging anyone besides her and Peeta when they just almost died, are about to die or that one time Katniss was sobbing because she thought Peeta was gonna die.

You know what though? I like that at this moment, when the name is about to be announced, Katniss worried about herself. She spends so much time worrying for her sister, babying her sister, mothering her sister, she deserves ten seconds of worrying for her own safety.

Of course, said sister is the one chosen. Ironic considering the whole encounter with Madge.

Okay, I think that concludes my thoughts for chapter one of The Hunger Games!

#thgagain #I’m not tagging anything else because this is so long I’m so sorry if anyone tries to read this mess 😅😅😅😅😅🤧🤧🤧🤧

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years ago

Text

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- writing sex from John’s perspective, don’t expect me to do it again. Shit’s hard af. Pun not intended but appreciated)

Masterlist The Arrangement Masterlist

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, thigh riding, kinbaku, sense depravation, gagging, hair pulling, erotic photography, angst.

I Can Be Your Whore

Nights without sleep were frequent and it was quickly becoming harder to count how many days had passed. The mission was supposed to be a quick one, they were supposed to make it quick. They were the Marines after all. But something had gone sorely wrong, the other side was more prepared than they thought, with everything from bombs and traps hidden in the sand to an old, depleted base infested with fighters. Some of them were men, hardened in life, but most were merely boys, at most sixteen, who’d been snatched, or probably given up by their families for a cause they under different circumstances, they wouldn’t have understood.

John hated it. Of course, he’d been trained, toughed up and taught that it didn't matter how old they were, as long they held a gun in their hands, they were a threat. But they were still kids, and putting bullets in the heads of mere teenagers wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Though, it was too late to change his mind now.

By the time the sun had sent, the desert taking on a chill, most of their enemies had seemingly disappeared; they’d either killed them all, or whoever remained, had escaped. Still, their squad’s captain had thought it would be best to stay, though hidden as best as they could be, ready to attack if anyone returned.

“Wick,” his sergeant hissed loudly from his hideaway behind a structure so broken that it resembled a huge boulder, “Get around,” he made a circle motions with his pointer finger, "Find Darby and kill whatever’s in your way, got it?”

“Yes sir,” John nodded stiffly, giving his gun a final once over before sneaking out of his designated hiding spot. With the night as his cover, John kept low, his steps light and hurried as he inched towards the building. If it weren’t for the blood rushing in his ears, he might have been able to hear the erratic thumping of his heart. His nagging thoughts were clouding his better judgement, forcing him to go around the deteriorating stone building and not through it and as hard as he tried, John just could shake them off.

Something’s wrong, more wrong than usual.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong!

“Darby?” John called out to a man standing in the center of an empty room, he could see him though what he could have only assumed used to be a window, “Darby, what the fuck are you doing man? Cap’s looking for you.” Still, the man didn’t make a move to turn to John, instead, still standing with his back to him, completely unprotected while the heaviness of nightfall skewing his defining features

Anything could happen

And something was wrong.

“Darby!” John called a bit louder, hoping to not draw out any of their enemies, “Man, don’t fucking play, they could-” When Darby eventually turned, John still could barely see his friend’s face, though, what he could see was only illuminated by a blinking red light coming from his chest. “No,” he gasped, his mind going a mile a minute. It would be foolish to get any closer, but he couldn’t just leave his brother in arms like that, with a bomb strapped to his chest.

Then it hit John; it wasn’t just them. The entire team was scattered about the place, if that bomb went off, when it went off, they’d be lucky to see life after it.

“I’m sorry,” Darby sobbed and when John moved to jump through the gaping hole in the wall, Darby stumbled back, “You can’t do this Wick.”

“Why the hell not?” John’s words were a gravely grunt and he slung the rifle behind his back, “I’m not gonna just let you die,” they’d known each other since the academy, Darby was probably John’s only friend since he’d left the orphanage at eighteen, he couldn’t just let things play out like that.

“Cause you’re gonna get yourself and the rest of the team killed, you need to go out there and tell them to run,” when John drew closer, his footfalls now heavy on the concrete, audible and echoing.

“John,'' another voice called out to him, though John thought it was strange, though still familiar. No one from the squad ever called him by his first name, in fact, he thought it had been months since he last heard it.

“You need to go!” Darby warned.

“John?”

“Just fucking go Wick,” Darby tried to shove him away, just as John flashed his torch on the bomb, the tangle of wires confusing to the untrained eye and the timer with barely five seconds left.

“I’m not leaving you!” John argued.

“John,” again, she called his name.

“You don’t have a choice,” Darby was already accepting his fate, walking backwards through an old, worn doorway, “You were a good friend Wick.”

“No!” What happened next was a blur and all John registered was the perilous beeping off the bomb, the time up, and then the deafening ‘boom’ as it went off. He’d only gotten to the window he’d come in from, making it out just as the explosion began.

“John!”

She. She was like the first rays of sunlight after months of winter. Her touch was warm and calming, her words soothing, but only because they were said with her voice.

Her face took shape in his mind first, leading him out of the disaster safely, though it was funny, that wasn’t how John remembered it. His version had more pain, more gore, more death. But after she’d taken his hand, it had seemed to fade, consuming black gaining a welcome light. She protected him, she gave him something that reminded him that the world wasn’t all bad.

The light she brought, it was brighter than most others, brighter that the flames that had remained though, it was fading. Fading fast and John couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t leave, she can’t leave him, not like this. Not when he needs her.

He awoke with enough of a startle to have Y/n’s bones jumping out, grabbing her shoulders harshly, his grip tight and assaulting. “John,” her breath caught and her eyes were wide.

It took a while; his mind settling and his heaving chest resuming to some state of normalcy. John’s eyes, from what Y/n could make out in the darkness of the bedroom, still looked frenzied and wild. His hair was matted to his face, sweat soaked and greasy. Y/n had never seen John like that; he wasn’t like the man she knew, the one who was in control of everything around him and who could dominate a room by just walking in, instead, he seemed shaken and afraid, maybe even a little broken. Still, Y/n loved him, she’d love every version of him, always, even if he’d never know it.

“Are you okay?” She asked tentatively. Now that John had settled, Y/n was afraid that she had overstepped some unwritten boundary.

“Yeah,” John cleared his throat, quickly reassuming his usual self, not wanting Y/n to see that side of him for any longer. When she offered the glass in her hand though, John accepted it with a mumbled thanks, taking a few gulps of water, not even realizing how dry his throat was until the glass was at his lips. “What are you doing awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she downcast her head, fiddling with the tie on her robe, “I got up to get some water, and I heard you. If I overstepped, I’m sor-”

“You need rest,” John cut her off. Y/n desperately longed to ask what his dream was about, what had upset him so deeply that he was screaming and tossing fitfully in the sleep, but she knew that there were some things that John simply wouldn’t entertain. He spoke when he wanted to, always giving what he thought was enough, never making the mistake of oversharing. As a testament, she could count every personal detail that she knew of John with her fingers. Y/n wished she knew more, she wanted to, if only he’d let her in.

“Are you okay?” He turned on the lamp, searching her gaze and temporarily forgetting his own troubles, “Talk to me,” he urged.

“I’m fine,” she reassured, “Would you like me to do anything before I get back to bed?”

“No,” his dismissal was gruff and brief, “Goodnight Y/n,” leaning over, John pecked her forehead, his groomed beard scratching her skin, the feeling lingering even after he pulled away.

“Goodnight John,” Y/n stood from the bed, starting the walk out of his room. But as she neared the door, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to leave, she didn’t want to just leave him like that, it was her job to make him feel good, to tend to his needs, not just sexually, but be a listening ear and a comforting haven. “John?” Y/n turned, finding that he was still sat up against the pillows, just about to turn the lamp off. His response was a hum, one that encouraged her to ask her question, “Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight, please?”

John sighed heavily, debating her request. He’d made it clear months ago that he didn’t have any interest in sleeping together, Y/n didn’t ask why, but she suspected that intimacy and that level of vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to. Or maybe he just wasn’t capable of it all together. She didn’t like that thought.

“Come here,” John eventually beckoned her over, “Take that off,” he gestured to her robe, watching intently as it slid off her shoulders, revealing the little silk nighty that Y/n was wearing beneath. “Now come,” John peeled the sheets back and Y/n got under, letting him drape them over her. The entire interaction felt awkward and unlike all the other times he’d given her instructions. Maybe it was because those had come after she’d seen him when he was down, maybe it was because even he seemed a so uncomfortable giving them.

It was uncharted territory for them both.

When they were both tucked under the duvet, Y/n turned on her side while John remained flat on his back, “Goodnight John,” she offered, gripping the covers loosely.

After a minute, John’s low voice broke the steady silence, “Goodnight Y/n.”

The hardwood beneath her tucked legs was cool, though not chilly, and as she'd been stationed there for going on three hours, the position had gone from being slightly uncomfortable to one she'd grown accustomed to. Occasionally, when he wasn't typing, John would reach slightly to the side and affectionately run his fingers through her hair, which cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. No words were exchanged between them; he didn't care for chatter while he worked and Y/n was too deep in thought to concern herself with menial conversation anyway.

Her mind kept replaying everything that ha happened since the night before, when she’d gone into his room and then asked if she could sleep in his bed. Y/n had awoken without him that morning and she just finishing the washing up after making breakfast when John had finally appeared, his white t-shirt stained at the front with what looked like ink and smelling oddly of glue. He'd looked a little worn too, as if he'd been up extremely early, though, Y/n didn't dare be the one to strike up the topic. Likewise, John seemed completely unaffected, not even speaking to Y/n until he decided to inform her that they'd be spending the afternoon in his study and what he'd expected her to wear.

Just a couple hours later, Y/n was sauntering into the study, waiting in the doorway for an invitation. His eyes, steady and dark, had roved her scantily and provocatively clad figure, dressed in a set of black, frilly lingerie, leaving very little left to the imagination; a thin g string, a bralette that barely covered anything and a garter belt attached to her underwear and dark stockings. Little silk bows and chiffon frills had been strategically placed to soften the appearance of the outfit, but it was what it was, as John had stated on the card stuck to the gift box, “a pretty thing for my favorite whore.” Her shoes were courtesy John too, a matching pair of peep toe stilettos that added six inches to her ordinarily demure stature. John absolutely adored seeing her in heels.

He hadn’t said anything, simply waving her in and gesturing to the floor next to him, and Y/n knew well enough what his soundless signals meant. They meant she’d have to stay put until further notice. And she did, closing her eyes in contentment when he’d smoothen his hand over her hair and letting her thoughts run wild when he’d immerse himself in his work; his fingers tapping keys on his laptop and occasionally making lengthy phone calls that always ended with heavy exasperated sighs. Y/n thought of everything; from how mollified she was to be some sort of haven from the stress and how much she yearned to be more than just an escape to what life would be like for her in the next year, if John decided that he didn’t want her anymore.

When a frustrated swear left his lips and he tossed his pen, Y/n almost jumped, not daring to look up at him, but still concerned, “Is everything okay Sir?”

John turned his head towards the meek question calling his attention. It was rare for Y/n to speak without permission, she was typically inclined to sit in silence, until he requested otherwise. She was certainly the perfect little pet. But that afternoon, when her concern pierced the quiet, he wasn’t upset in the slightest. In fact, John didn’t quite know what he was feeling, he hadn’t since the night before, when she’d woken him from his nightmare and then asked if she could spend the night with him in a way he usually preferred not too. Half of him wanted to hate it, so he could maintain control, so she wouldn’t get too close and forget her role in his life, but the other half urged him to enjoy it; he hadn’t laid with someone like that in almost twenty years, probably when he was Y/n’s age.

What had made it worse was when he’d awoken before six am, only to find himself turned towards her back, with one of his bulky arms draped over her, holding Y/n to him. Startled and unnerved by their closeness, by the unspoken intimacy of spooning, John had hastily shuffled out of bed, pulling on a t shirt to go with his sweats, he’d brushed his teeth quickly and wandered out to a logwood shed near the side of the house, where he kept some bookbinding equipment. It was something he usually did when he wanted to clear his head; sex was stress relief, bookbinding was for clarity. Though, it hadn’t really worked that morning, for when he came face to face with Y/n in the kitchen, John still wasn’t sure what he felt when he saw her. Their trip was supposed to convince Y/n to continue as his sub, not turn their relationship into something it wasn’t. Yet, that was exactly what it had been doing; lately, their interactions felt…..romantic, and John didn’t do romance.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, only just realizing that he hadn’t responded, and, being too frustrated with his work to pay any more attention to it, John decided to take control where he knew he’s always had it. “Come,” he patted his knee, pushing back his chair a bit to allow for Y/n to have some room.

Easily, she sank into his lap, facing her front to his, her immodestly exposed breasts just a glance away. His rough hands found the curve of her waist, her skin warm and silken beneath his familiar touch, “I haven’t given you much attention today, have I?”

Pouting, Y/n’s petite hands found his firm biceps, the muscle straining beneath his simple, dark button up. Through her lashes, she looked between them, her gaze only ever reaching his lips, spotting the rare fleck of grey in his groomed beard, “No Sir.” Her fingers inched upwards, reaching his shoulders and massaging them slowly. Tension tightened his muscles, though, under her ministrations, John could feel it starting to melt away, “But it’s okay,” she continued absently, “Even if I miss you, I know you’re busy.”

Smiling softly, John admired her in his arms, the way her brows loosely knitted in concern and how her quips sounded so innocent and youthful, “You miss me babygirl?” He grinned mischievously, guiding her into grinding his thigh, knowing full and well how much she’d enjoy it.

Hesitating, Y/n blushed and a shy smile tickled her pink lips, “I always miss you when you're gone Sir.” There was a slight shake in her voice, and that was how John could tell that the friction brought on by the coarse denim coupled with the flimsy strip of fabric constituting her panties was already having an effect on Y/n. Her grip on his shoulders tightened and he could feel her nails digging in as she arched her back, now moving on her own, moaning quietly as her arousal grew. “Sir,” she gasped, pressing down on his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he hummed, moving some hair away from Y/n’s face, one hand still holding her steady at the waist. His erection strained against the zipper of his jeans, begging for freedom, “You want more, don’t you?” Watching her like that, knowing that he was the one with all the power, the one who could leave her a horny, frustrated mess or bring Y/n sweet release. The power that John wielded over her, it was more than enough to get him drunk. He liked it, no, more than liked it, he absolutely adored it. “Beg for it,” he rubbed his thumb along her flushed cheek, gritting his teeth at his strained hard on as he smiled, “Beg for my cock, like the little slut you are.”

“Please,” whimpering, Y/n ground harder, feeling her swollen clit throb want need, her body longing for more, “Please Sir, I need your cock.” The sound of Y/n’s low, rasped voice had John’s grip on her waist tightening and his breathing going ragged. “I want you, so bad,” her quivering voice continued.

“Only me?” He grunted, moving his free hand from her face to palm his crotch through his pants, “Say it Pet, say you're mine. Tell me who you belong to,” Her eyes were screwed shut, and for the first time in almost a week, John felt like he was truly in his element. There were no blurred lines, no maybes or what ifs, nothing extra about the way she made him feel; they were merely reminiscent of master and sex slave.

“Uhh,” the hitched breath came with Y/n’s long manicured nails sinking deeper into his shoulders, probably growing more and more frustrated as seconds ticked on. “I’m yours Sir, only yours.”

“So good for me,” John praised lowly, “Now go upstairs to my room, and wait face down in bed. Understand?”

Whining in annoyance, the ache in her center surely begging for attention, Y/n nodded, dragging herself out of his lap and letting her wobbly feet lead her out of the room. Taking a moment to collect himself, John stood a few minutes after, undoing the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off only to toss it to his leather chair, not caring whether or not it slipped off. On his way up to his bedroom, he also undid the worn brass button on the top of his jeans, the mere inch of freedom not doing much for his acing arousal. He wanted her; to feel her around him, warm, wet and tight.

As instructed, when John arrived in the room, Y/n was sprawled on the bed face down, her hair shrouding her face. Taking a moment to drink her in for the absolute vision she was, he proceeded to make his way to one of his bags, set on the bare top of the sleek dresser, opening up the zipper- unless he was going in, John always kept that bag closed when he traveled. It was the bag that held his…...toys, for when he brought subs along. It was in fact a rare occurrence, to have one of his play things accompany him to trips; John rarely vacationed, and business trips hardly afforded the time for beautiful distractions.

From the small suitcase, he produced some rope, the fibers not too coarse, rough enough to leave behind a few mementos and made especially for the purpose he’d intended. Doing a double take, John also snatched up a plain, black, silk blindfold, unintentionally, it matched Y/n’s lingerie perfectly, a ball gag that they were both readily familiar with, and their favorite safe word substitute; the little blue ball. Going over to the bed, John crooked one of his legs on the mattress as he sat, placing the armory within reach. “I want to tie you up today,” he hummed nonchalantly, bringing his hand to her ass, rubbing his palm in slow circles on her smooth skin, “It’s been awhile since we’ve done that. What do you think? Would you like that?”

John’s hand momentarily slipped between her thighs, his thick, sturdy fingers brushing her clothed cunt, feeling how Y/n’s wetness had seeped through the fabric. Just the slightest touch was enough to have her moaning softly, his question falling out of memory as she tried to wiggle into his hand. Y/n could feel John’s eyes, his gaze warm each time it swept her scantily clad form, his digits now pressing into her clit through her black panties. Eliciting another depraved groan, she shifted on the perfectly made sheets, burying her face in the pillows.

When John raised his hand again, it was to spank her, hard and without warning, resulting in Y/n crying out half his surprise half in pain. Just as her skin reddened, he rubbed again, gently, warding off any bad bruising, “I asked you a question,” his urgent growl was near her ear and his hot breath blew some of her hair, “Would you like that? To be tied up and gagged so I can use this pretty pussy however I like.”

“Yes,” she choked out, desperate for more, “Please Sir, use me,” Y/n encouraged, “I’m yours.”

Smirking, John wasted not a moment more; peeling off Y/n’s panties and getting to work. The knots were tied with trained precision and insurmountable patience. Work like that wasn’t often done quickly; intricate patterns across her chest around her neck and binding Y/n’s hands behind her back in three places would certainly take time, each placement meant specifically to maximize her pleasure. It was meticulous work, but it was no secret that John Wick was a patient, focused man, one who’d ensure that every detail was to his liking.

After her chest and hands, were Y/n’s legs, which were comparably easier. In no time, he’d parted her legs, folding her calves over her thighs and binding them tightly, effectively rendering her physically powerless. With each knot, executed with expertise and tightened with experience, John felt himself slipping into the comfort and ease of being in total control. He knew every risk, had assessed them several times over and had worked out the solutions, he knew exactly what he was doing and John knew with absolute certainty that whatever happened next was totally up to him. Y/n was powerless, at his mercy and absolutely trusting of his judgement. She was his, and when all else failed, went wrong or awry, John knew that he could seek Y/n out to offer him what he sought most; control.

Satisfied that she was bound, John placed the ball in her hands, reminding her of how it was to be used before crawling off the bed to admire his handiwork. Y/n looked so perfect, the kind of perfect that was the thing of a pornographic film, the kind of perfect that he wanted to save the sight for a long time. That was when the idea struck him, and John walked around to the side of the bed, situating his lips over her ear, “You look gorgeous like this,” he pecked her cheek, “I want to take pictures of you,” sending shivers up her spine as he did, John caressed her neck, occasionally twirling silky locks around his fingers, “Nod if that’s okay.”

When she hesitated, John thought that she was going to signal no, by squeezing the little toy fitted in her palm, but eventually, Y/n appeased, nodding against the sheets. “Good,” he murmured, returning to the dresser, using a little remote to turn on the stereo before collecting a semi-professional camera. Setting the right mood after that was merely child’s play; closing the heavy curtains and dimming the lights a little before finding the perfect angle, where the camera would catch every salacious detail.

With heavy metal blasting through the speaker, masking any noise that would threaten the moment, John slowly worked his way through different angles. Every snap was more arrestingly vulgar than the last and his cock twitched eagerly, ready to be buried between her thighs, fucking her into oblivion. Being with her, dragging his hands along her body as her cunt squeezed his cock, hearing her strained noises and having Y/n it his whim, Y/n specifically, was unmatched. It was otherworldly, he’d even go as far as saying the power made him feel as if he were something of a god.

“That’s it Kitten,” he praised lowly, “You’re so fucking sexy, and you’re all mine.” Through with the pictures, he made short work of getting completely disrobed, then climbing onto the bed, between her legs. Even in the low lighting, he could see the slickness gathered on her folds, the prurient view making him buck his hips.

Without more warning that a hand on her waist, he took her from behind, the blaring music shrouding his unmanned grunt. Y/n’s body shifted higher up into the bed as a consequence of his roughness and thoughtlessly, John grabbed a handful of her messy tresses, wrapping it around his fist, yanking her head back and planting his lips on her neck. His hulking frame was only restrained from crushing her by his free forearm sunken into the mattress as a brace. Beneath him, he could barely make out her muffled whines each time he thrust into her violently.

Maintaining his volatile pace, John released her hair, only to hold her to him with his arm secured around her chest. As he ground against her, the fibers of the rope holding her hands against her back chafed his sweaty chest while the ones binding her legs rubbed against his thighs. She felt so fucking good too; warm wet walls closed in around him, accommodating him perfectly. And the way it felt when his balls slapped her cunt was utterly euphoric. It was always easily to lose himself during their scenes, nothing beyond the physical mattered and he knew exactly what her limits were; how much he could give and take without hurting her. Maybe he couldn’t understand what he felt when they weren’t naked and touching each other, but when they were; John was in a realm that he’d created.

John could feel her tensing up as he fucked her with rabid intensity, holding back on her release until he permitted. “Come for me,” he growled into her ear, burying his face in the side of her head. The fruity smell of her shampoo tickled his senses, cementing her presence. Y/n was there, with him, all he’d have to do was persuade her to stay.

Her walls pulsated around his member, waves of hot, slick moisture rushing out to sticky their thighs and she struggled to scream, dribbling around her gag. Y/n’s juices leaked onto his already heated skin as she milked him, weaning John closer towards his own orgasm.

It was hard to maintain control of his thrusts as his toes curled with the exultation accompanying his climax. It was like a lid had been blown off, in the most pleasurable way. Fighting to continue bucking his hips, John filled her up, spilling ribbons of cum as he stayed nestled deep inside. “Fuck,” he groaned, the husky solicitation drowned out by the edgy screaming from the speaker “You know how good it feels to cum inside you sweetheart?” The words were garbled and choked, though John knew Y/n would appreciate the sentiment, if she’d even heard them. He liked when she knew, it made her feel good, and he could tell.

Collapsing on top of her, his body far more relaxed than it had been when they’d been downstairs, John took a moment to gather his thoughts and catch his breath before pulling out and rolling off her, wincing ever so slightly as he did. The first thing he did after that was undo the straps of Y/n’s ball gag, followed by the silk blindfold that had formerly barred her vision. John would have had to be blind himself to miss the moisture from her eyes that had soaked through the fabric. “Are you okay?” Worry immediately plumed in his chest. Had the music been a bad idea? What if she’d squeezed the ball and he’d missed it in his selfish haste?

Stopping before he continued with the ropes, John searched Y/n’s reddened eyes, cupping her cheek and using the pad of his thumb to brush away what appeared to be the final tear, “Talk to me babygirl. Did I hurt you?” She Y/n trusted him, and if he’d missed the signal, then John had just betrayed her; how could he expect her to stick around after that?

Trying to slow her heavy breaths, Y/n nuzzled his palm, licking her lips, and sighing soft before managing a breathless, faint smile, “No Sir, that was…….amazing.”

An immense sense of relief washed over him at her reassurance, and with a relieved chuckle, John leaned over to affectionately peck the top of her head, missing the way she closed her eyes contentedly at the simple gesture. “I’m glad to hear that,” he sighed, tucking some behind her ear, “You were very good today, I think we’ll have to get you something special when we get home. How does that sound?”

As he moved on to undoing the intricate knots, one by one, releasing her arms first and revealing angry red bruises where the rope had been tightest. He knew she was used to them by then, but when they left in a couple days, Y/n would have to wear a sweater. John was so consumed with the task that he’d barely noticed that she hadn’t answered him, already thinking of what he could get her. Y/n had never been hard to please outside of the bedroom, she was simple and John thought she could find the best in anything, and anyone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he huffed, eventually shuffling off the bed, using some tissues from his nightstand to quickly clean up before pulling on a pair of sweats, “I’m going to run you a bath,” and catching the heaviness of her eyes before he disappeared into a bathroom, John warned sternly, “Don’t fall asleep yet.” Vaguely, he heard her mumble a simple ‘Yes Sir,’ in response, and it was in a tone so dazed that he knew better than to trust it, deciding to hurry up on getting the tub ready for her. He knew Y/n well enough that after intense sessions, she was subject to dozing off, too tired to do much for herself

All in all, it had taken about an hour to finish after care, though John never minded. It was his job to take care of Y/n and it was certainly one he enjoyed. Despite the time they’d taken with him helping her in the bath, it hadn’t felt that long before they were finally on the bed again, with the dirty covers pulled back. Armed with a brush, he situated her between his legs, gently combing through the wet tangles. From the very start, John could tell without her ever having to say it that she preferred when he brushed her hair dry, as opposed to using the dryer. He didn’t mind though, he’d cut out any amount of time just to do it if that was what Y/n wanted.

That afternoon, like every other after they’d been together, she was quiet, opting to pick at a thread on her towel as he worked. Y/n’s silence was often welcome and he never wanted to push her into a conversation, but that evening, John knew that they had to talk. He’d put the matter off for too long anyway. “We need to talk,” he began.

“Huh?” She twisted to face him, eyes wide with curiosity and lips agape. She was gorgeous like that, so youthful and innocent, far unlike how corrupted and tainted he was.

“It’s about our contract, it ends in two weeks,” he licked his lips, unable to gauge her reaction, “I was thinking, if you’re still happy with our arrangement, we could go through with another year.”

Still, even with furrowed brows and pursed lips, John could barely tell how she felt, “You want me to stay?” She broached meekly, tilting her head, “And we’d be just like this, for another year?”

“Yes, unless there’s something you don’t like.” For some reason, his heart quickened. It was far different from the very first time he’d asked her to be his sub, when he’d taken her to dinner in Manhattan. Y/n hadn’t seemed too onboard with the idea back then either, but that evening, with his touch on the center of her back and the evidence of their time together staining the dark sheets, the stakes were higher. Back then, he just wanted her, but right now, he didn’t want to lose her.

Averting her pensive gaze to the mahogany floor beyond the California king, Y/n’s voice shook slightly as she inquired, “Can I think about it?”

In an instant, taking him completely by surprise, John’s heart dropped to his stomach. Needless to say, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and really, all he could do was think that her indecision meant no. Still, he couldn’t pressure her, it wouldn't be fair, and all he could do was say; “Yeah, sure. Take your time.”

*****

Tagging- @theonlyone-meeeee @wishuhadstayed @danietowwo4 @baphometwolf666 @iworshipkeanureeves @howtoruinsomeones-perfect-day @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves

#keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #the arrangement

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aflyingcontradiction · 3 years ago

Text

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 117 - Testament

But Tim isn’t going to sit home and wait, and Elias seems pretty insistent I go along. Part of me thinks it’s just so he can see if whatever this “preparation” he’s been trying to do on me works. - Jon

I guess, yeah, that's part of it and the other part is that he wants to make absolutely sure Jon gets touched by as many powers as he possibly can and sending him right into the lion's den is a good way of doing that, I suppose.

I don’t quite get those two. I suppose what they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… it’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone.

Ouch. That is a painful realisation right there! (The usual disclaimer of "I'm obviously not talking about the scale of cosmic horror here because duh or for that matter even the scale of massive trauma" but I actually think that realisation is on some level relatable because of the realisation I had multiple times in my life of "I don't really know what a close bond feels like because I've never actually been anywhere close to the best friend of the people I've considered my best friends." Fortunately my luck has shifted somewhat in the "close emotional bonds" department, or at least I hope I'm not kidding myself about that, but the realisation that some people have these fire-forged, ride-or-die relationships and you're just kinda doing your own thing, dipping a finger shallowly into human connection every once in a while and then watching it flow away, is a bit of a twinge.)

And… aside from some, uh, uh, office gossip which I, I’m not sure is necessary or, uh, conducive to a workplace that… hey, it, it, it’s natural it’s, it’s normal.

I love how Jon just goes from deep emotional turmoil to being a bit upset that people are gossipping about whatever may be going on in his love life. Talk about emotional roller coasters!

Oh, yeah, I found something on the other body the circus stole, this “George Icarus.” (...) Jurgen Leitner. I just can’t be rid of him.

Ah, okay, this is where we learn who George Icarus was. Also, the pseudonym is very fitting, I mean, Leitner did, in fact, fly too close to the goddamn sun and subsequently crash and burn when he decided to create a library of fear books, didn't he?

He always said, if you don’t like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight and you change it. Whining doesn’t help. I always tried to live like that. But I think sometimes you feel like you’re adapting, but it’s just denial. - Basira

This is definitely something I've experienced myself but it's also definitely something I've seen in some people who like to go on like Basira's dad about stiff-upper-lip-don't-whine-adapt-and-overcome to other people and shame others for expressing their emotional pain. When the cracks finally do start showing up (usually under the influence of alcohol), it's not so much a crack as a full-on explosion.

But at least Daisy’s coming. I mean, I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But, she’s solid. She’s a… a fixed point, and if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing, relative to her.

It's tragic but also on some level a little bit heartwarming that Basira never actually stops doing things relative to Daisy, even when it takes everything out of her, even when Daisy starts destroying herself.

Still stuck, still miserable, still angry. New traumas, but they hurt just like the old ones. Elias thinks he’s got this ingenious way to hurt people, but it’s just the same old and a creepy new package. Arsehole. God, I just want to rip his – When did I start to lose the parts of me that weren’t just anger? - Melanie

I always have a soft spot for the angry ones, the ones who have to forcibly stop themselves from punching people in the teeth, who have to put every last shred of willpower into keeping a lid on the boiling, hissing, steaming pot that is their inner life. The ones whose willpower sometimes fails them and then they do end up hurting people or themselves because of their anger. And not to go all REPRESENTATION here, but I'm actually glad to see that in TMA that character archetype is basically all women, because the people exploding in violent anger or having to try so fucking hard to keep it in and occasionally failing are usually guys.

They did manifest, but they weren’t what I thought they’d be. They were fused, somehow, all mixed together, a huge angry mass of dead flesh and guns.

I'm kind of glad this isn't a fully-fledged statement because I feel like that sentence, that image, is really all I need and anything further would actually weaken rather than strengthen the horror.

Good luck, Jon. I do hope you win. But I also hope it hurts.

Damn, this episode is so good at summarising characters in a line or two, isn't it?

I, I’m scared, I guess. – no, wait. No, no, I mean, ah, I don’t want that to be my last message, the thing that defines me. “Martin Blackwood, he was always scared, then he died. The end.” I don’t want that. - Martin

I'm a very anxious person and this is INSANELY relatable, this fear that all that's going to be left of you is the things you didn't do because you were terrified. ... Martin, stop making me tear up by being too damn relatable!

I need them to be safe, I need him to be okay.

Aw, Martin!

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be safe, like my plan’s not dangerous, but it’s, it’s mine. This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good leaving my own little web.

a) This thought process makes perfect sense. Sometimes you just need to express your goddamn agency, even if it's dangerous and even if it's bound to hurt and b) I know the podcast immediately lampshades the "web" thing, but WEB!MARTIN THOUGH! I MEAN! THINK ABOUT IT! That would've been such an amazing plot point and they had it all set up. I mean, he's got a lot of good Lonely-related shit going on later, too, but ... why not both? I do enjoy it when the powers squabble over a character!

I used to blame my brother for going off his own and poking around where he wasn’t wanted. I used to blame myself for not helping him. But now… now it doesn’t matter. I’ve read through enough of these things to know that this doesn’t matter. The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, open the wrong door, and that’s it! - Tim

I think Tim's view of this is actually very close to the way that TMA handles this. The Entities don't eat you because you deserve it. They just happen to happen to someone. And that makes the horror work so much better than if that wasn't the case. (It also feels closer to how LIFE actually works a lot of the time.) So I find it somewhat odd to see when people do read desert into it, I feel like that weakens the storytelling.

Honestly, I hope that Jon learned something from her because, because I don’t expect I’m going to be coming back from this. I don’t know if I want to. And if he needs to pull the trigger, to use me to stop it… well, he’d better have the guts to do it.

Well. Fuck!

Gerard’s page… Gerry. I-I know there’s more he could tell me – he he, wouldn’t of, of course, I, I know that but he, he… he would still be there, th-that, that knowledge, i-it would, it would still exist…(...) …y-you owe me one, Gerry. Rest in … Just rest. - Jon

Damn, seeing Jon struggle against the instinct to keep knowledge available to himself, seeing how much it literally hurts him and seeing him WIN is sure something. Also ... "Rest in ... just rest." ... make me cry, why don't you?

My impression of this episode

This is not so much horror as it is concentrated emotion and I adore it. I nearly teared up a few times on my relisten (I think I wasn't in quite the right headspace during my first time). The gut punch quotes come thick in this one. This may actually be my favourite plot development episode (as opposed to favourite statements that don't relate directly to the overall plot). The writing is just. so. good.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

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Ok look, whenever i think that i finished reading all of ur ficlets, an old one will come up, and im left to wonder if i actually read everything. I think ive scrolled for about a week now and still not sure if ive read everything. In all seriousness tho, i love ur writings so much. I hope u kee writing bcs damn

Sometimes I think back to this ask and wonder whether you have managed to read everything or if there’s still some surprises in stock for you. I really hope that, no matter where you got to, you’ve continued enjoying the stories you find.

Today, I have something a little less usual to offer. It’s Gersakier but Geralt isn’t interested in sex, however he loves indulging Jaskier and also watching. So...have some Jaskier/Cahir with voyeur Geralt.

Mead, Weed and a Place to Breed

Novigrad was one of the last places on the continent where anyone could have a drink and not be harassed for merely existing. It was why Geralt liked it, Jaskier loved it for the simple fact that there was no judgement about practically anything. Sure, murder was frowned upon but that was only to be expected. However, he could sit on Geralt’s lap and eye fellow patrons up.

“Someone caught your eye, Buttercup?” Geralt asked, a hand rubbing over Jaskier’s thigh. He was into his third tankard of mead while Jaskier was still nursing his first goblet of wine.

“Mhm,” Jaskier sipped his drink, eyes fixed to a corner of the room. “In that dark corner, not brooding as pretty as you but comes a close second. Maybe third if Eskel would actually brood.”

Following his gaze, Geralt nodded appreciatively, Jaskier always did manage to find people who danced the line between pretty and rugged. This man was no different, Nilfgaardian armour, high cheekbones and the hints of a frowning pout. Absolutely the kind of person Jaskier favoured.

“Will you approach him?”

In reply, Jaskier hopped up and sashayed across the room, easily perching on on the startled man’s lap. Geralt knew exactly when Jaskier laid out his offer because the man’s eyes darted up to him, darkening with lust. It seemed that Jaskier had done it again.

Sure enough, not three minutes later they were emptying their drinks and Geralt took it as a cue to do the same. As he put his tankard down, he watched Jaskier lead the man by the hand towards him.

“Geralt, this is Cahir.” He introduced. “Cahir, Geralt, he’s my witcher and he likes to watch.”

“I have no problem with an audience.” It was exactly what Geralt liked to hear. “You got a room, Dandelion?”

The nickname didn’t even elicit a jealous frown from Geralt. He called Jaskier his Buttercup, most people called him Jaskier, and a few, rare partners were allowed Dandelion. It must have meant Cahir said or did the right thing to earn the right. This just made Geralt’s interest pique more.

They walked to the back of the tavern, to the rooms that could be bought for a night or two. Jaskier had managed to get one that wasn’t an absolute shit hole, it had a decent sized bed and a table with two chairs. There was just enough room to put the chair against the wall and watch what happened on the bed from a comfortable distance.

That was the thing. Geralt had absolutely zero desire to be the one on the bed. Sex didn’t appeal to him, he physically could enjoy it but mentally it was more of a chore than anything else. It was a sharp contrast to Jaskier who was happiest when his legs were spread or his mouth was full. After a few lacklustre rolls in a bed or by a campfire, they had agreed that it just wasn’t working. Well, not physically anyway. Because they still adored each other, Geralt loved being able to cuddle and touch without Jaskier flinching away. Meanwhile, Jaskier absolutely doted on Geralt, fussed over his every whim and need. They made each other happy even if they weren’t a conventional couple. Especially when it came to matters of the bedroom. Geralt had seen how Jaskier held back, tried to curb his physical needs because he was devoted to Geralt. It had led to a few conversations and the agreement that Jaskier could have anyone he wanted as long as Geralt could watch. Because Geralt loved watching Jaskier mindless with pleasure, it was so much better to see him rather than miss half his reactions because he was too busy trying to coax them from him.

In the room, no time was wasted being coy. Jaskier all but raced Cahir to get naked and on the bed first. It made Geralt smile fondly at his antics, always knowing exactly what he wanted and how. Jaskier was not shy in bed.

Sitting back, Geralt watched as the two knelt on the bed, facing each other. The kisses were heated, Jaskier seemingly yielding but only in that he encouraged Cahir to lick between his parted lips, coaxing him into something deeper and filthier.

Sometimes a bed partner might keep glancing to Geralt, wondering whether he was joining in, almost fearful of it. Thankfully, Cahir seemed to have no such worries about having a witcher watch him get it on with his boyfriend. Instead, he actually appeared to relish the audience, hands roaming and feeling Jaskier’s muscles, resting to frame them before moving on. Such a show was most definitely appreciated by Geralt.

Not that Jaskier was lying back and letting Cahir do all the work. He was mouthing against any skin he found, hand teasing along Cahir’s shaft, humming in pleasure at what he found.

“I want you to fuck me. Show me what they teach you in Nilfgaard.” His eyes were fixed on Cahir as he spoke. “Fuck the air from my lungs and fill me with your come.”

Some slick was pressed into Cahir’s hands and he didn’t hesitate in working Jaskier open. There was something especially pleasing about watching Jaskier’s mouth fall open, especially when Cahir took his cock between his lips. The way Jaskier’s muscles flexed as he rocked down on the fingers opening him up before pushing up into Cahir’s mouth. Geralt watched with contentment, knowing that Jaskier was getting everything he wanted.

“If you don’t get your dick in me, I will come down your throat and leave you hanging,” Jaskier growled, wriggling impatiently.

Thankfully, Cahir seemed to take it in good spirit and pulled away laughing, patting Jaskier on the thigh for good measure. “Whatever your lordship demands.”

“Damn right. Did I tell you I’m a viscount?”

Still grinning, Cahir rearranged them a little, Jaskier on his back, near the edge of the bed, his legs thrown over Cahir’s shoulders. It was a testament to how flexible Jaskier was, something that had Geralt surprised at times too.

As soon as Cahir pushed into him, Jaskier was making demands again, “Put those muscles to use, go harder.”

Incredibly, rather object, Cahir obeyed which had Jaskier crooning. “I could feel you twitch. You like it when I boss you around. Tell you to go faster-” he broke off with a groan as Cahir pressed forward, almost bending him in half, “-oh fuck, that’s it. Knew you would be good.”

Tipping his head back, it dangled off the edge of the bed so Jaskier could wink at Geralt before his lips formed an ‘oh’ of surprise.

“That right there. Do it again!”

As asked, Cahir repeated the motion but slower, rolling his hips deep and Jaskier arched. “Fucking faster! Don’t you dare slow down now.”

Huffing in entertainment, Cahir did as told. “As the little lordling wishes.”

Geralt could see the flush spreading down Jaskier’s neck and chest. Sweat made him glisten and Cahir was not much different either. They made for a very pretty picture, Jaskier bossy and demanding Cahir fuck him properly. The sound of skin on skin, the smell of it all, it wasn’t as offensive to Geralt when he wasn’t in the midst of it all. Plus, he got to watch as Cahir’s muscles started to shake from the exertion, Jaskier’s voice broke as he barked for more.

Sitting back, Geralt smiled as Jaskier’s hand wound into Cahir’s hair and pulled, their kiss more of a messy exchange of panted breaths than anything else. Something about the whole scene had Geralt slouching in his chair, legs falling open. It was quite the view, watching Cahir fuck his boyfriend quite so thoroughly.

“Right there. Fuck!” Jaskier was teetering on the edge and Geralt could happily appreciate how Cahir had been holding back until he was certain Jaskier was right there with him. As Jaskier came, he tipped his head back to lazily grin at Geralt, making sure he was still okay with things.

Most surprisingly, Cahir wasn’t pulling out and rushing out as soon as he was done. Instead, he kissed playfully along Jaskier’s jaw, nosing along his cheek with a smile.

“You okay there?”

It was the kind of care Geralt so rarely witnessed from Jaskier’s lovers, who were too eager the leave the presence of a witcher once they’d had their fun. Yet there was no jealousy as Jaskier turned his attention back to Cahir with a wide, lopsided smile and tugged at the hair that fell forward.

“More than.”

A few more kisses were exchanged before Cahir moved, helping Jaskier ease his legs down and giving them a quick rub.

“Guess this is where I bid you both a good night,” he said, wiping himself down with a cloth from the washbowl.

“You know,” Jaskier drawled, shamelessly sprawled on the bed still, “if we’re ever in Nilfgaard, I would love to look you up again.”

Cahir shook his head. “You’ll never find me there. Try Vicovaro. I’m heading back home.”

He was mostly dressed and Geralt didn’t miss the pout on Jaskier’s face. It was obvious that he had found a playmate he wasn’t done with yet. Maybe Geralt could see about taking a few contracts as far as Vicovaro.

“And if we were there, how would we find you?” Geralt asked, giving his permission for there to be more between his boyfriend and Cahir. “I doubt if I asked around, I could find you on a first name only.”

Cahir’s hand was on the latch to the door, ready to leave. He turned with a cheeky grin. “Just ask for the count.” Stepping out of the door, he turned with one final nod. “Witcher. Viscount.”

And like that, he was gone. Jaskier dropped his head back to the bed with a groan.

“I can’t believe he outranked me.”

Geralt snorted and settled on the bed, opening up an arm for Jaskier to snuggle in. He still smelled of another man and sex but that was okay.

“I think he outranked you in more than just title,” he teased and got a halfhearted smack to the arm for it. They both knew he was right and Jaskier was going to be demanding more. Nothing for it, Geralt was just going to have to find a contract he couldn’t refuse in Vicovaro. Maybe he could even find a contract to escort a count home, it was a dangerous road to travel after all.

#geraskier #jaskier/cahir #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cahir #voyerurism #tldr: geralt watches as cahir bends jaskier in half

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