#bat bites instead of wedding rings

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Til Death Do Us Part

A Steddie oneshot

Eddie was sitting in Steve's house. . .well, actually lying in Steve's house. He was still pretty banged up, and considering the town still thought he was a murderer, he needed to hide out for a while, and Steve Harrington's was the perfect place. It still felt weird to think that Steve was a good guy, but it was much too evident, and it made Eddie realize that he jumped to conclusions as quickly as others did about him. It's weird how connected they are now. First through Dustin, then through trauma, and now through bat bites. These scars were going to be more permanent than a marriage certificate. Who would have thought that he would be married with a kid by age 20. . .with Steve Harrington of all people? The thought made him laugh.

"What are you laughing about in here?" Steve asked as he popped into the room.

"I was thinking that these bat bites of ours are pretty permanent," Eddie smirked. "We're practically married."

"We are not married," Steve scoffed.

"Are you telling me we're getting divorced?" Eddie asked with a gasp. "So soon. . .oh, sweetheart, tell me what I did so I can make it up to you! Think of the kids, Steve!"

"Well, you didn't listen to me when I told you not to be a hero, so there's that," Steve said. "Not to mention the fact that you made Lucas feel bad about playing basketball, and you divided him and his friends as well as his sister. So, there's that as well."

"Shit, yeah, I do deserve the divorce," Eddie said, wincing and looking remorseful. "I'm not much better than my father, am I?"

"Hey, that not - I didn't mean it like that, Eddie. I'm sorry. Yeah, it's too soon to joke about it," Steve said softly. "Did you apologize to the kids? I mean, you did. I was there."

"Well, yeah," Eddie muttered.

"Was your dad actually sorry for anything he ever did? Would he have done what you did and tried to buy us more time? Would he have found a place for lost sheep to go to?" Steve asked.

"Well, no," Eddie admitted.

"Than you're a better man than your father ever will be," Steve shrugged. "Hold on."

Steve left the room, and a moment later, he returned with his pillow. He placed it on the bed next to him.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked.

"Sleeping with my husband," Steve said.

"So, no divorce then?" Eddie asked with a grin.

"Are you kidding me? No way, I'm raising these hellions without a partner," Steve said. "You said it, we're married. Til death do us part, asshole."

"Goodnight, Mr. Munson," Eddie grinned.

He laughed as he sank down onto the bed beside Steve, who leaned over to turn off the light. He was thankful that Steve left the light on. Eddie watched as his husband closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. A deep wave of affection came over him as he studied Steve’s features. Oh, shit, what was that? Was he developing feelings for his husband? He liked girls. . .right? No, it was just indigestion. Eddie sighed with relief and closed his eyes.

"Steven, why are you sleeping with a man?" Robin's voice floated into Eddie's ears.

Eddie's eyes slowly opened, and he groaned quietly against the morning light streaming through the window. Steve was on his back, his eyes closed. Robin was standing over him, her hands on her hips.

"Oh my God, Robin, you can't just ask why two men are sleeping together this early in the morning," Steve groaned, his eyes remaining closed.

"Is there something you want to tell me, buddy?" Robin asked.

"Ugh, can't a guy sleep with his husband without any third degree?" Steve asked.

Neither one of them had noticed that Eddie was awake, much to Eddie's amusement.

"His what?!" Robin exclaimed and Eddie nearly laughed.

"Eddie said last night that the bat bites made us practically married," Steve said and groaned. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Robin. We're platonically married."

"Okay, I'll just let the kids know that their Daddies won't come downstairs because they're too busy platonically sleeping together," Robin said dryly. "It doesn't look platonic to me."

"Robin, stop, he doesn't like me that way," Steve sighed. "I doubt he likes men and women the way that I do or the way that I like him. I'll get up. They're probably going to want breakfast."

"Steve, he was clearly flirting with you! No one calls people "big boy" like that and means it platonically!" Robin exclaimed.

Eddie held in a breath until Robin and Steve left the room. He let it out with a loud gasp.

"Holy shit!" Eddie exclaimed. "I was flirting with Steve?!"

Eddie's eyes widened as he thought about all of his interactions with men. Yes, now that he's thinking about it, there was a definite attraction to certain jocks. Sure, he actually hated some of them, but Steve, he was pretty sure he hated for no reason back then. He did nothing to him or his friends, and he had always kept Hagan, as well as the other basketball players, on a tight lease. Well, he really tried to. Whenever he watched Steve play while in the gym, he always got irrationally angry at the sight of him. Maybe it wasn't hate. . .no, it definitely wasn't hate because he always wanted to bite him. It was so often that Eddie had, honest to God, thought that he was turning into a cannibal.

"Oh, fuck! Fuckity, fuck, fuck, shit! Goddamnit!" Eddie exclaimed.

As the days passed by, Eddie really tried to push his feelings for Steve aside. He wanted Steve to remain in his life and the one really romantic relationship he had he totally fucked up. No, he wasn't good at that shit and it would only ruin what he had with Steve now. It didn't help that Steve was basically taking care of him. Luckily, he was able to move around, and with the help of Robin, he was able to move downstairs. Unfortunately, she decided that she needed to talk her best friend up.

"I already know how great Steve is, Robin," Eddie mumbled. "I married him, didn't I?"

"No, you got married by a couple of interdimensional bats," Robin said. "You did not make the conscious decision at the time to marry my best friend."

"Why are you trying to sell me on Steve? I don't like him like that. I don't like men either," Eddie said as he lied out of his ass.

"You don't?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I wasn't necessarily trying to convince you to do anything. I was just talking about how great Steve is."

"Well, if you think he's so great, why don't you date him?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I would, but he's got the hots for someone else. We're also strictly platonic. Let's see what else? . . . Oh! There's also the fact that I'm a lesbian," Robin said.

"Shit, seriously?" Eddie asked and stared at her for a while, not saying anything. "Goddamnit! Okay! Okay! I'm also. . .not exactly straight. I like men, I like women, and I am head over heels for Steve Harrington. Happy?"

"Well, yes and no. You know, I wasn't trying to pressure you into outing yourself, right?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "I was pressuring myself."

"Thank you for telling me," Robin said.

"Thank you for telling me," Eddie grinned.

"Are you going to tell Steve?" Robin asked.

"Nope. Never," Eddie said.

"Why?" Robin asked.

"I tend to mess up in that area, so why risk what I have with Steve now?" Eddie asked.

"Because these scars you carry are proof that every day could be your last, and I don't think telling Steve is going to scare him off," Robin said softly. "He might surprise you."

"I know he likes me, which I don't understand why," Eddie said. "My husband can do so much better."

"How do you know?" Robin asked.

"You guys weren't exactly quiet the other day. It made me realize that I like both, that I've been flirting with Steve," Eddie said.

"So, you're running away, being a chicken shit, because you've already decided that you're going to hurt him?" She asked with narrowed eyes.

"I would never purposely hurt him," Eddie said.

"Well, leading him on and thinking it's going to go somewhere is hurting him. So, whether you decide to go forward with your relationship or not, you're going to have to talk to him because you're going to hurt him either way. But you want to know what a good way of not hurting him is? . . . DECIDING TO FUCKING BE WITH HIM, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!" Robin shrieked. "Get your head out your ass. You both deserve to be with each other. We're all scared of telling people how we feel, but you know what I did after we averted the apocalypse?. . .I mean, eventually, I told Vickie how I felt. So, buck up. You're hurting yourself unnecessarily and Steve, especially since you're the one who knows that you like him and he likes you. Meanwhile, he's left in the dark about how you feel. I will not see Steve hurt. Got it?!"

Robin hit him over the head with a couch pillow. Eddie shrieked.

"Alright! Alright, I'll talk to him! Can I heal first?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, that's fine, take your time," Robin said calmly, lowering the pillow. "So, do you want to be with him?"

"Of course I want to be with him. . .I'm just scared," Eddie said. "All of this is new."

"Well, I did say you could take your time," Robin said. "And if you tell Steve how scared you are of messing this up, he'll understand completely, and I'm sure you can both work through it together. . . You know, if you decide to be with him"

"This is fucking crazy. . .Steve Harrington likes me. I can't believe it. Nope! No way," Eddie said shaking his head.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either," Robin laughed.

"Fuck off," Eddie rolled his eyes.

Steve strolled through the door with a sigh as he walked into the living.

"Okay, the kids are all at home. Now we can have some time to ourselves. Well, us and Robin," Steve grinned.

He sat down on Eddie's other and kissed Eddie's temple as he wrapped his arm around him. It had quickly become a thing with them. . .to always be touching. Apparently, they were kissing each other on the head now.

"Hi, honey, did the kids give you a hard time?" Eddie asked as he squeezed his knee.

He could feel his eyes lighting up at Steve as he launched into details about the car ride. God, this was so fucking domestic and he loved it. More days passed, and he was able to move around on his own, but he was still in a lot of pain. Apparently, Steve was, too, but he had neglected to say anything until Eddie was cuddling up to him in bed and his arm wrapped around his stomach. Steve involuntarily winced. Yeah, the bat bites were no joke. Neither was their venom, which, according to the doctors were never going to go away. Luckily, Argyle and Jonathan offered a solution, but they arrived just as Steve was driving Robin to Vickie's.

"Uh, are we waiting for Steve?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, turns out he's in pain too," Eddie said as Argyle guided him to the couch. "He's just hasn't said anything. He prefers to suffer in silence, I guess."

"Bat bites are a bitch, huh?" Argyle asked.

"Yeah, the only good thing that's come from it is the permanent marriage between me and Steve," Eddie said with a grin.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"It's a running joke," Eddie shrugged.

"With the whole kids thing, yeah, that makes sense," Argyle said.

"So, is Steve a good husband?" Jonathan smirked.

"Hell yeah!" Eddie exclaimed, slapping his knee. "Couldn't ask for a better baby daddy."

"Seriously?" Jonathan scoffed.

"You've got something against my husband, Byers?" Eddie smirked.

"It's just hard to imagine Steve being mature enough to handle being married," Jonathan said. "Let alone to a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, the smirk dropping from his lips.

"Just that he's a notorious ladies man, Eddie. I wouldn't get your hopes, man. He's not exactly comfortable with. . .," Jonathan said, trailing off.

"With people like me," Eddie said, looking at him with hard eyes. "Did you just make an assumption about my sexuality, Byers?"

"Oh, man," Argyle said nervously. "I think Jonathan was trying to look out for you, man."

"I'm not his little brother, I'm a grown man," Eddie sighed.

"That's a fair point," Argyle said.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to do that, but I just trying to warn you about what kind of guy Steve is," Jonathan said. "I shouldn't have made an assumption about you."

"What kind of guy do you think that Steve is? Are you calling him homophobic in his own home?" Eddie asked.

"I think he's upset you're insulting his husband, Jonathan," Argyle said.

"I just want to know why you think that about Steve," Eddie said. "That's all."

Eddie was really trying not to show Jonathan how angry he is but the guy was making it difficult.

"He called me queer once," Jonathan said.

"That's it? He called you queer and that automatically makes him homophobic? I've used that word, and I'm about as straight as a cooked noodle," Eddie said defensively. "So, when, pray tell, did he call you this?"

"It was a few years ago," he muttered.

Eddie could tell that Jonathan was starting to realize how ridiculous it was.

"Look, man, I get where you're coming from, I do because I was pretty sure I hated Steve for a long time, and because of that, I held onto my prejudiced views about jocks for a long time. My reasoning behind that is clearly not the same as yours. . .at least, I hope not. After everything that Steve has done, how can you still think anything negative about the man?" Eddie asked.

"You can do great things and still have hateful thoughts," Jonathan said.

"He's not homophobic, you fucking idiot! You would know that if you had bothered to try and get to know him in the last few years," Eddie rolled his eyes. "He shouldn't have to keep apologizing for shit he's already apologized for."

"How do you know that?" Jonathan asked. "You haven't known him that long."

"It's all about quality, not about quantity, and I clearly know him better than you do, Byers," Eddie spat. "Your own brother feels safe around him. The kids look up to him. Nancy trusts him. Your mother and Hopper love him. Jesus, what is this really about?"

"Will won't shut up about him!" Jonathan snapped. "Every time they hang out or Steve drops him off, Will comes home gushing about him and I'm just worried. . ."

"What? That he's going to think that Steve’s the better older brother?" Eddie asked, and then he laughed. "That's stupid. That's even stupider than you holding onto a dumb grudge. You know what Will does when he's over here with his friends and Steve. . . He talks about you. It's non-stop, actually. The kid loves you, and no one is ever going to replace you. So, get that out of your thick skull. Trust me when I say this: Steve Harrington is not homophobic."

"Yeah, okay," Jonathan said softly.

"You need to talk to Steve about this and Will," Eddie said. "And Byers?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever insult my husband again, I'll punch your lights out," Eddie said.

"Noted. I'm sorry. . . Are you in love with him?" He asked curiously.

"Head over heels, man," Eddie said.

"So, are we good?" Argyle asked.

"Yeah, we're good," Eddie said in amusement as he shook Jonathan's hand.

"Oh, thank God, I thought that was going to get really awkward there for a minute," Argyle said, and they laughed.

Later that night, Eddie was lying in bed with Steve, cradling him from behind. His hand was up Steve’s shirt, carassing his stomach right above his bat bites. He didn't want to let this go, but he was also ready to risk it all for Steve Harrington.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you," Eddie said softly.

Steve turned around in his arms so he was looking at him. His hazel eyes were big and round, looking at him hopefully. The light from the lamp beside his side of the bed was revealing all of the colors in Steve's eyes. The green and the brown intermingled beautifully, but the light also made his eyes look a little bit golden. Eddie sighed. God, he was beautiful.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in love with you too," Steve whispered.

"I know."

"Did you just fucking Han Solo - mmpf!"

Eddie crashed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him harshly. Steve smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Eddie gently as he threw his leg over Eddie's. Steve’s eagerly kissed him back, his fingers cupping the back of Eddie's head, tugging on his hair. Eddie moaned into his mouth. Steve gasped for breath as he broke the kiss.

"Is this really happening?" Steve asked.

"Til death do us part, asshole."

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Inspired by my last post.

Count Marcula welcomes a werewolf Nathaniel to his castle. He finds the writer to be intriguing and incredibly cute. An angry mob led by Lucien and Emani comes to the Transylvanian castle, as Marcula and Wolfaniel fight them off.

Using some Romanian names I found. Meet Marc and Nath’s other previous incarnations from their past lives!

Marius Arkhel was once a normal happy young man living a wonderful life in the village with his betrothed, famed and wealthy vampire hunter, Leonte Remus

One night, Marius and Leonte decided to go for a walk through the woods where they discuss preperations for their wedding. Then, all of a sudden, a bat swoops down and bites Marius’ neck

Leonte thinks nothing of it first while nursing Marius back to health until Marius suddenly tries to bite his neck, and Leonte comes to the conclusion that he is now a vampire

So, he keeps him chained in the basement, surrounded by a ring of garlic until he can find a cure. Leonte tells the villagers that Marius is sick, and the wedding is postponed until he gets better

One day, one particularily nosy associate of Leonte’s decides to drop by for a visit, so Leonte is forced to unchain Marius to keep up appearances

Things go smoothly until the guy notices Marius doesn't have a reflection and sets out to tell everyone, only for Marius to tear him apart with his fangs, killing him

And Leonte starts to get... Ideas

Basically, he lures his rivals into the woods so Marius can kill them and feast on their blood. And if Marius doesn't comply, then Leonte’s going to drive a stake through his heart

Leonte: Jade, I'm afraid there's no cure for you. But it's better this way. You get to satisfy your inhuman urges, and I get rid of a few undesirables.

Marius: But-

Leonte: And I just can't bear the thought of you suddenly developing a blood lust and hurting the innocents, you know. The people will expect me to do something about it. So, you understand, don't you, Jade?

Marius: ... Yes.

It's been a week since Marius last drank any blood, and he can't keep human food down, so one night, he manages to break free of his chains and runs into a barn to drink from one of the cows... Only to be caught

The villagers take him to Leonte, and instead of trying to come up with an explanation, he pulls out a stake and holy water

In a moment of panic, Marius suddenly turns into a bat, flies away from the village, and into the forest. When he turns human again, he immediately breaks down crying from Leonte’s betrayal

Marius spends three nights hunting for wild animals to drink blood from, avoiding hunters, and trying to avoid the sunlight until he comes across an abandoned manor at the edge of the forest

He considers asking the owner to let him stay but finds no one there, and decides to make it his home

A week later, in the middle of the night, he hears someone at the door, and when he goes to see who, he finds a young man around his age unconscious on the doorstep with a silver arrow in his shoulder and wearing wedding attire

Marius brings him into his room and cleans up his multiple wounds caused by whips, burns, and even stabbing

~Months Ago in the next village over~

Nacolae Katsav was engaged to Emanoil Petrache, his village's top hunter. He lived in a beautiful house, wore the finest clothes, and would be getting married to an excellent provider. It was all perfect...

Until one evening when Emanoil brought in his latest hunt, a larger-than-average wolf. The villagers all wanted a piece of it, but Emanoil saved a small part of it just for Nicolae, a tooth which he turned into a necklace

As soon as Emanoil fastened it around his neck, Nicolae pricked himself with it and suddenly passed out

Nicolae woke up completely refreshed the next morning with a sudden craving for nothing but meat at breakfast, and he was much more hyperactive

Emanoil didn't mind at first, liking how he's gotten much more affectionate, but then he started writhing in pain one night. Emanoil was about to grab the village doctor until he saw his fiance transform into a werewolf right in front of him

He almost grabbed his crossbow, but then Nicolae ran out of the house and into the forest

When Nicolae woke up the next morning, he was back in bed, and Emanoil stood at his bedside with a solemn expression as he explained everything

He promised to do everything he could to help him, but really, he had ulterior motives

Every night when Nicolae transforms, Emanoil’s been conditioning him to sniff out prey and kill them on his command. And if he disobeys, Emanoil will whip or cut him, and even press Nicolae’s own silver engagement ring against him

But when Nicolae’s human, Emanoil’s doting on him and treating him as if he were made of glass

Months pass and it's the day of their wedding... And the night of a full moon.

Emanoil promises it won't be long, but he keeps dragging things out just to show off his new husband until it's too late and Nicolae transforms in front of the whole village

He expects Emanoil to defend him... But then he grabs a musket and starts shooting at him. Nicolae rushes into the woods and as he's running, a silver arrows nails him straight in the shoulder, forcing him to transform back into a human

He barely makes it to this manor at the edge of the forest, knocks as loud as he can, and passes out

~Present~

When Nicolae wakes up the next morning, he finds himself in a dark room with the windows covered, and a cute guy with green eyes sitting at his bedside. On instinct, he sniffs him and immediately likes him

Marius introduces himself but leaves out the fact that he’s a vampire, and vice versa

Despite trying to keep their other sides secret for a few days, Marius can’t keep forcing himself to eat human food and Nicolae has to explain why he was eating raw meat

As soon as they explain what they are, they begin to feel comfortable explaining how they each ended up the way they did and find their situations to be quite similar

But while Marius was slowly starting to accept Leonte wasn’t the man he thought he was, Nicolae is still grasping on to the idea that Emanoil still loves him and only did what he did under pressure

Once in a while, they’ll go into the village using a glamour technique Marius learned to disguise themselves (beta designs) since there are wanted posters for them everywhere

In the village square, Nicolae finds Emanoil making the following announcement

Emanoil: My former husband, Nicolae, is not the man I thought he was. I swore to hunt and kill any beast on sight, but I fear I hesitated in that moment. With that note, should you find my ex, bring him to me alive so that I may finish what I started and lift the burden that plagues all of you at night.

And while the villagers were cheering, Nicolae silently cried

And while down in the market, Marius ran into Leonte, who shamelessly attempted to flirt with him until Nicolae strolled up and took Marius’ hand

In their absences, about two weeks after Nicolae fled the wedding, Leonte and Emanoil teamed up to track down Marius and Nicolae after coming across each other in the border between the two villages

While they send their best hunters out, Leonte and Emanoil often hold private meetings and discuss what they’ll do when they find Marius and Nicolae

They want to keep them, but the villagers would never allow it despite their social status, so, Leonte’s been looking for a way to turn them human again and with some success

But… He’s also been researching a talisman that will allow him and Emanoil to force Marius and Nicolae to turn back into a vampire and werewolf. This way, they’ll have Marius and Nicolae back and they can continue to carry out their inhumane acts

Marius is comforting Nicolae in his room when the full moon rises. Based on what Nicolae told him, Marius prepares for the worst but finds a hulking werewolf acting like a puppy

Over time, Marius and Nicolae have become more fond of each other and even start sleeping in the same room

Whenever Nicolae brings home a dead animal for Marius to drink from, he get immediate head scritches

They haven’t thought about Leonte or Emanoil in a long time and frankly, do not care… Until one night. While Marius and Nicolae were walking through the woods, they came across some hunters of Marius’ village

Upon recognizing them, they start to attack until Nicolae fights them off. After taking out a good amount of them, they had back to the manor and barricade the doors

Leonte and Emanoil eventually break in and look for them, armed with crosses, silver bullets, holy water, and wooden stakes in case they don’t go willingly

When Leonte and Emanoil find them in their room, they start of sweet, saying how much they miss them

Leonte: Jade, my love, come with me. You can leave this life behind and be normal again. We can put what happened behind us and be happy again.

Emanoil: My sweet belle, is this how you want to spend the rest of your life? Let me fix you. I can’t stand not having you by my side.

But Nicolae and Marius aren’t buying it, so they resort to lethal matters

When they least expect it, Emanoil shoots Nicolae in the shoulder with a silver arrow while Leonte splashes holy water in Marius’ face, knocking them unconscious

When they wake up, they’re tied to a pyre in the border between their respective villages, right as the sun is about to come up and Emanoil is loading a silver bullet into his musket

Still Leonte gives the two one last chance. Either be human or die… Only for Marius’ to spit in his face, so he’s got his answer

As Marius’ body starts to turn to ash, Emanoil aims for Nicolae’s heart and fires. As they’re slowly dying, Nicholae and Marius hold hands for the last time until Marius has completely turned to ash and Nicolae dies while still tied to the pyre

And about a century after their deaths, Natale Kuhlberg and Marquel Arcelle were born in Paris

On the past lives list, we have,

Nicholas Kress/Miles Arcel

Nicolae Katsav/Marius Arkhel

Natale Kuhlberg/Marquel Arcelle

[the-heaminator]

“Kirkland” A low rumble floats through the room, the protective growl of a bear concerned for his mate. A fluffy paw bats at Arthur’s arm, shaking him from his half-unconscious state. 

“Kirkland” Another paw — no, those are arms — grasps at his other side. A warm hand settles on his forehead, the heat broken only by a thin band of coolness. A ring? It feels metallic. Who around him wears a ring?

“Kirkland, wake up,” Oh, he’d know that dull voice anywhere.

“Ivan, y’bastard, m’ try’n sleep” Arthur grumbles, batting halfheartedly at the arms around him. He manages to dislodge the heat from his head 

“Kirkland, it is 3:35” 

“Don’t matter. Don’t needa be up till 5” 

“Kirkland. 3:35PM”

“Oh FUCK” 

Arthur bolts upright, colliding into Ivan’s chest. Normally, being bodyslammed by a 40-something-odd man would have some effect, but the disparity in height and weight means that Ivan is not affected at all. Instead, it’s Arthur who is pushed back into the couch due to the force of his movement. It’s then that he realizes what is going on. 

Ivan stands next to the couch, leaning over so far that his face is practically parallel to Arthur’s. His hand still grips Arthur’s arm, staring down with concerned eyes. His other hand is raised, the wedding ring catching the sunlight in a way that sends silver streaks through Ivan’s hair. Right. The wedding ring. 

“Get off of me, you oaf,” Arthur grumbles, using his small size to wriggle out of Ivan’s arms and to the side, which unfortunately means falling flat on his face onto hardwood floor. 

Or he would have, had Ivan not caught the collar of his shirt and left Arthur suspended pitifully a few inches from the ground.

“What did you forget?” Ivan asks sternly. 

Arthur sighs. “To pick the kids up from school,” 

“Correct. You are lucky I did that for you,” Ivan uses his frankly absurd strength to place Arthur back onto the couch. 

“Thanks” Arthur mumbles, attempting to regain his composure. 

“What was that?” Ivan asks sternly. 

“Thank you” Arthur says loudly, scowling at nothing in particular.

“And,” Ivan says, gesturing to white plastic bags sitting on the ground. “I brought you food,”

“I don’t need food,” Arthur protests, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“You’re passing out around noon daily. Do you know what most people do around noon?”

Arthur doesn’t respond, only giving Ivan a tired look. This isn’t the first time Ivan has tried this trick and it won’t be the last. Ivan ignores the look and takes out a white styrofoam cartoon, opening it up and letting the smell of Indian food waft throughout the room. And it does smell really really good, causing Arthur’s stomach to rumble. Unwilling to let Ivan win this, he turns away and bites on his lip. 

“Kirkland. Eat” Ivan shoves the container onto Arthur’s lap and okay fuck it does smell really really good. 

“Eat and I will let you sleep,” 

“Fineeeeeee” Arthur exhales. Ivan shoves a fork into Arthur’s hands and he takes a bite of the savory food. He can’t taste much, but his stomach appreciates it so so much. He scarfs down the rest of the plate as fast as he possibly can and sets the container to the side. 

“Sleep?” 

“Sleep” Ivan affirms. Arthur goes to lie down on the couch but is caught off guard when Ivan scoops him up bridal style. 

“Put me down, you oaf!” Arthur protests. Ivan doesn’t listen, walking to their room and tossing Arthur onto their shared bed. The reminder of Ivan’s pure strength brings unhelpfully lewd thoughts to Arthur’s mind as Ivan towers over him and he feels his heart rate skyrocket. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Ivan walks around to his side of the bed and clambers into the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. Using one arm, he scoops up Arthur and places the smaller man onto his chest. 

“Sleep,”

Arthur has to admit, Ivan’s chest is very warm and-

His eyes fall shut. 

🫡🫡🫡

Sleeping on ivan's tits is enrichment for Arthur

[stellarhistoria]

he was far from inept at noticing when he's made someone... perhaps not uncomfortable, but uncertain with something that he's said. after all, he has often been told that he was FOOLISH and RECKLESS. ( sometimes, when he is alone in alhaitham's house, he finds himself hiding away in his room; worrying, gritting his teeth, biting back crying; just in case he ever came home early instead of late, and heard him lamenting how he wants to just be helpful. ) & concern BITES at the edges of his heart, wearing him down again and again.

he chatters aimlessly about nothing in particular as he walks down the ever wandered hallways of the akademiya, letting people glance his way and then look away with thinly veiled annoyance. it was what he wanted this time. he was what he needed them to do. and perhaps ren understood this value of MANIPULATION to get people to look away with words when silence would garner their attention.

as he leads ren into his office, his other chatter stops dead and he locks the door, listening for people continuing their idle chatter outside and waiting for things to calm a little more from the sound of his echoed voice as others remained quieter than he. and then he sighs, walking over to his desk and beginning to rummage as he talks proper this time.

"I know you uh, you don't exactly talk about yourself, but I've put together who you're with based on the things you say. And, forgive me if this is a bit bold, but I can guess you're not having a huge destination wedding, either?" nodding his head absently towards the ring on his ... acquaintance's finger, he stands up straight with a pair of items in hand. "I uh. I wanted to thank you... for not brushing me off as a bother. Don't worry about paying me, consider it a gift for the wedding."

and he walks over to ren, holding out the gifts.

they're a matching pair of clockwork lockets, bearing the sign of a maple leaf encircled in a couple of breezes, as if protecting it, as if keeping the leaves dancing. they were beautiful make, although kaveh's own style of creation was all over the clockwork, all over the metal and the designs. "If you need the polish for these to keep them lookin' brand new... I know somewhere and someone who won't bat an eye at weird requests."

he  snaps  out  of  his  thoughts  at  the  sound  of  his  name  —  lavender  gaze  diligently  sweeping  across  the  faces  around  him  before  settling  upon  the  prospective  CULPRIT.  ren  blinks,  then  cants  his  head.  he's  heard  old  idioms  about  curiosity  and  cats  mixing  as  well  as  oil  and  water  —  and  considering  how  often  he  finds  himself  compared  to  one,  he  can't  imagine  that  bodes  well.  even  so,  the  wanderer  finds  himself  stepping  closer.  wordlessly  arching  a  quizzical  brow,  as  if  to  prompt  the  other  to  continue.  he  does  —  only  to  stop  just  as  QUICKLY.  the  half-finished  statement  leaves  him  with  a  sense  of  whiplash,  though  he's  quick  to  piece  together  the  context  in  light  of  the  request  that  FOLLOWS.

he  knows  the  architect  to  be  an  unusually  EMPATHETIC  sort.  rife  with  emotion to a fault,  yet  backed  by  a  solid  moral  foundation  —  in  many  ways,  ren  muses  that  he  could  be  considered  his  antithesis.  he  can  only  assume  whatever  doesn't  wish  to  say  aloud  most  likely  pertains  to  something  one  of  them  would  rather remain confidential.  considering  he  doesn't  know  anything  he  would  be  PRIVY  to  that  kaveh  wants  to  keep  a  secret,  the  wanderer  wagers  it  has  to  do  with  his  own  reclusive  ways.

... the  ring  on  his  finger  feels  particularly  HEAVY  in  that  moment.

a moment, huh? ❝  ...  i  see.  ❞   he  takes  a  furtive  glance  at  their  surroundings,  PARANOIA  suddenly  itching  at  the  back  of  his  skull. justified or otherwise, he can't crush the feeling.   ❝  in  that  case,  lead  the  way.  ❞

[izayoizuki]

Jealousy, Turning Saints Into The Sea

Inspired by this ask thank you so much @hederasgarden ❤️

Rhett Abbott x Reader

-You know jealousy isn't always a welcome emotion, and so you try to tamp it down.

-But Maria has been taking to Rhett for hours at this point.

-He can talk to women, of course, but this is a lot, for anyone.

-And there are a lot of signals being sent, by Maria anyway.

-Rhett is blind as a bat in these matters.

-So you've decided enough is enough.

-Polite, but firm, you remind yourself.

-You make your way to Rhett, and he puts his arm around you and pulls you close into him without even thinking, even as he keeps his conversation going.

-You responsively tuck yourself into him, weaving your fingers through his, rubbing his wedding ring with your thumb as is your wont.

-You wait for a lull in the conversation before whispering up to Rhett. "Wanna go home".

-His head ducks down sharply. "Everything ok baby?"

-"Yeah, I just wanna go home." You don't wanna be the jealous witch making a scene, you remind yourself.

-He excuses himself from the conversation and takes you aside.

-"Yeah, no problem!" Maria cheerily agrees, "It'll give me a chance to get you your package from the car!"

-You try to show no outward reaction, but Rhett clocks the way your body stiffens ever so slightly anyway.

-You're both in a quiet corner of the bar.

-Rhett frames your face with his hands, forcing you to look at his face.

-"What's the matter, darlin'?" Before you can open your mouth he's shaking his head.

-"Don't you say "nothing". Tell me." He urges, incentivising you with a soft, sweet kiss.

-"I don't like the way she's talking to you." Your voice comes out under your breath.

-"Louder, baby."

-You look up into his eyes and you see unconditional love.

-"I don't like the way she's talking to you." You answer, barely louder, but it's enough for him to catch.

-"And what way is that?"

-Your fingers play with the pearl snaps on his denim shirt. You remember tearing them open. Like the way they sound when they do.

-"Like she's flirting with you."

-"Oh, is that right?" There's a smile in his voice, but he doesn't refute you. "Then we're going to have show them who I belong to, eh?"

-He pulls you into him and gives you a deep kiss that you can feel in your bones. It's passionate and sloppy and slightly feral and you feel like you often do around Rhett, like you're drowning in happiness.

-Then sudden as he started he pulls apart, and you see the way his chest is moving for air, and his lips are swollen, eyes all glazed, and you clench your thighs, knowing that you mirror him.

-You don't really get a chance to ask for an explanation for anything before he's walking you back to the bar proper.

-"There you are!" Maria exclaims, before thrusting a small basket into Rhett's arms, "Here, a reward for your performance." She says with a wink.

-It's a prettily wrapped care package of cookies.

-Rhett tears it open without a second thought in a way that has you weeping for all the pretty ribbons.

-He takes out a cookie and chomps on it.

-He chews, swallows. "These are really good!" he exclaims. 

-"Honey, you gotta try this!"

-But instead of feeding you like normal, he perches the basket on the bartop, and using his freed hand to grab your jaw and exert enough pressure to open your mouth.

-He takes a bite of the cookie, and kisses you, pushing the cookie from his mouth into yours with his tongue, letting it linger even after the job has been done.

-It is completely unnecessary and inappropriate.

-And somehow you love it.

-"Thanks for this, Maria!" He tags the basket off the bartop, his other arm around you again. "On that note, we're gonna head home now."

-You're still chewing, so you just wave.

-As he's sitting you in the car, he whispers in your ear "Don't worry darlin', I'll help you work off the rest of that jealousy," his stubble's on your cheek, fingertips ghosting over your nipples, as he buckles you in, and there's a dark rumble of a laugh in his voice.

-Jealousy may not be so bad, you decide.

-Maybe next time, you'll even make a scene.

[marvels-writings]

Dreams

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Requested by: hi! i love your imagines and i was wondering if you could do a natasha or carol imagine where the reader is their wife and is pregnant but hasn't told them yet, the rest of the team don't know about the reader so when the reader arrives at the tower the avengers attack her but because the reader was an agent as well she fought well and was winning when nat or carol come down and tell everyone to stop, the reader than asks if this is a good time to tell her that she is pregnant thanks! <3

Word Count: 1.5k (fluffy)

A/N: Y’all i finally got inspiration back, updates will still be a tiny bit slow, but I think you’ll like this fic

The test lay upside down on the sink, the timer on your phone next to it; ticking off every second that went by. You paced around the bathroom, from one side to the other. You bit your fingernails, an awful habit you meant to put a stop to. But found it hard to at this moment.

This was your third, no, the fourth try. Every failure brought you closer to giving up on this golden dream you'd crafted with Natasha. This idea that you might have children of your own to raise in a large house in the suburbs. To be domestic and at peace with your life.

That chance seemed further with every test.

You jumped as the timer buzzed loudly on the side of the sink. Hurriedly, you switched it off and turned the test over. Your eyes widened as you dropped the device on the ground. It clattered dully as a grin covered your face at the result.

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

Grinning, you grabbed the test to rush out to show it to your wife. You stopped quickly, remembering she was at the Avengers compound. Instead, you picked up your phone, texting her a picture of the test, and trying to call her. No answer.

She needed to know, even if that meant you had to go down to the compound yourself and tell her. You knew she was adamant about keeping you away from her work life, not wanting to involve you in a work that seemed to bring the horrors of her past with the threats of the future. You didn't blame her for wanting to keep you away, even though it was hard not meeting the people she risked her life for.

Debating it in your head, you eventually decided to go tell her. You quickly grabbed your coat, and at Natasha's common insistence, a knife in your jean waistband. The knife would probably be a bad idea in a few months, but you'd rather not be caught without it, for now at least.

Trying to call her one last time, you rushed into your car and began the drive there. The apartment wasn't too far from the compound, not too far from where you worked either. You'd wanted somewhere that both of you could go to work easily from, Natasha had wanted someplace where she could get to you faster.

It worked, but you needed to find a bigger house soon. Maybe somewhere near a lake, or some scenery, so you could go hiking or swimming with them. You could teach them how to swim for the first time, Natasha could teach them all the stars in the sky and the stories behind them.

So many dreams, you wanted them all now that you had the chance.

A bright grin was on your face the whole ride t the compound, barely fading as you walked into the compound. The receptionist greeted you with a supportive nod, knowing you were a SHIELD agent. You flashed them a bright smile as you made your way towards the living areas.

Surprise filled you when you didn't see anyone from the team around, walking through till the common room until you finally saw someone. He wore an army green t-shirt with jeans, casual as he walked around. You greeted him with a smile, about to move past him to find Natasha. He had other plans though, frowning before slamming his hand on the alarm beside him.

"Sam, right?" You asked, stepping back as the sound of the blaring alarms filled the air. He stepped away from you, taking a fighting stance, assuming you were a threat. You laughed at that, the mere idea you would come to attack the home of the country's heroes.

"How do you know my name?" He asked defensively as the other members of the team began to trail into the common room at the commotion. You groaned when you realized they all thought you were planning to hurt them.

Not given a chance to answer his question, you stepped aside to dodge a shield you already knew was coming your way. The move surprised them, Sam quickly moved forwards to attack you, kicking near your head. You batted his leg away from you, throwing him off balance before picking up the shield to throw it back at Steve.

Only half the team was here, Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Tony. All of them equally surprised and apprehensive of your arrival. None gave you the chance to talk as they began to attack, thinking you were hostile. Steve grabbed the shield again to throw it at you, surprised when you dodged it and kicked it towards Bucky.

Out of breath, you panted a little while you waited for them to catch their balance. All the while there was a small smile on your face, imagining their reaction once they found out who you are, especially why you're here. For now, you needed to focus on the suit Tony had summoned into the living room.

"I'm not who you think I am." You breathed, ducking a punch sam tried to send your way, throwing him off balance with a kick to his side. He flinched back, pausing at your words. The rest of them stopped with him, waiting for some answer.

"Who are you?" Steve asked, his shield set firmly in front of him. You opened your mouth to answer, closing it when you realized hardly any of them would believe you. Instead, you chose to show them the wedding ring on your finger. You were ready to provide an explanation when someone spoke from behind you.

"She's my wife."

A grin formed on your face as Natasha came to hug you from behind. You didn't need to turn around to know it was her, merely tilting your face so you could kiss her cheek. Her hand interlaced with yours, her wedding ring matching yours for proof you were sure they didn't need.

Her grip around you tightened as they lowered their guard, greeting you and apologizing for trying to fight you. Her hand was placed firmly on your back as you talked them, wanting to keep you for herself. It was a bit selfish of her not to introduce you to them, wishing to keep you away from this life as much as she could.

Now she could see it wasn't her decision as you proudly showed off your ring, laughing at the stories they told you. Your smile was so bright as you introduced yourself as her wife to everyone who came into the room. She nodded at the surprised glance they sent her, smiling along with you.

It was no secret to you that she had been scared to introduce you to them. Natasha knew that they could never scare you off, nor take you away from her. Not even the heavens could divide her from you. She feared that you might not want to be with her anymore. Maybe you might leave after seeing in person the kind of life she leads.

Now, she knew you won't.

Not when your hand squeezed hers tightly, not when you sent her smile after smile, joy clouding your eyes. Not when you eagerly told them stories about your relationship, proud to be hers. You couldn't leave her, not when you loved her the way you do.

"So why now?" Tony asked, curious as he chewed absently on a toothpick. You grinned brightly, turning to Natasha, hesitance clouding your features quickly. She gave you a supportive nod, hoping you would explain your unexpected, but welcome appearance.

"Is now a good time to tell you?" You asked, nodding towards your stomach, hoping she would get the idea. You knew she didn't by the way she tilted her head to the side curiously. Biting your lip tightly, you weren't sure if she would be okay with telling the rest of the team.

She's spent years hiding you, you didn't know if she wanted to hide the new arrival to your family.

Still biting your lip, you tugged her arm closer to you. Getting the hint, she leaned her ear closer to you so you could whisper. The entire team leaning closer, straining to hear the reasons you had to share.

"I'm pregnant," You whispered, her hand freezing in yours, her eyes widening as her she turned around to meet your eyes. Her eyes held so much doubt, looking up at you as if you held the world in your hands, ready to take it away at any second.

But you nodded, ready to give her the world she deserved.

She had never looked happier as she hugged you tightly, tears pooling in her eyes, her breath hitching as you laughed. Her dreams were so much closer, all because of you. Never had she even dared to think her dreams of a family might become true.

Now, as she told her chosen family excitedly about the expected new arrival, she wouldn't want anything else. She wouldn't need anything more than you by her side and the dreams you'd made together. The dream which would have remained hidden if it had not been for you.

A/N: Tell me what you think!! Comments, reblogs and ask are amazing!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart​ , @summergeezburr​ , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader , @izalesbean, @higherfurther-romanova , @natalia-quinzel , @blackxwidowsxwife , @studies-styles , @procrastinatingsapphictrash , @mxxnmocha , @ladyeliot , @wandavixen , @blurryylines , @thewidowsghost , @wlwlovesreading let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

[camillejeaneshphm]

Owen Capell’s profile:

BASIC INFO

Quote by Character: “I will never be an outcast, no matter what they say.”

Full Name: Owen Simon Capell

Nicknames: none yet

Gender: Cis Man (he/him)

Sexuality: Grayromantic

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Species: Vampire

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Date of Birth: 17 May 1802

Race/Ethnicity: White British

Nationality: British

Short Bio: While on a research trip in his early twenties, Owen met a woman named Juliet. He fell for her quickly, but things turned when she bit him and turned him to a vampire. 

Personality: Has a bit of a superiority complex, very intelligent

Languages: English, German, Italian, French, Spanish

Likes: Books, travel, history

Dislikes: Cravats, tight spaces

Greatest Flaw: Pride

Greatest Strength: Intellect

Place of Residency: 

birth-11: Warwick, England

11-17: Alternates between Warwick and Hogwarts Castle

17-24: Student of History at various universities

24-retirement: Alternating between Rye, England and Hogwarts Castle

Retirement: Rye, England

Future Career: Professor of History of Magic

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Skin Tone: Very Pale

Height: 6 ft

Weight: 74 kg

Physique: Somewhat stocky

Style Choice (what they like to wear): Contrary to most vampires, Owen easily keeps up with popular fashion. 

Accessories: An old pocket watch, his wedding ring

Inventory: His wand, a book, vials of blood to sate himself

Scars: The bite scar on his neck, a thin slice across his stomach

Face Claim: Luke Newton

Voice Claim/description of what they sound like: Luke Newton

MAGIC

Wand Description/Picture: Sycamore, Unicorn Hair, 10 inches

[The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of these handsome wands that they may combust if allowed to become ‘bored’, and many witches and wizards, settling down into middle age, are disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world’s most highly-prized wand woods..]

Wand reaction when chosen: Tiny fireworks

Boggart: His wife threatening to leave him 

Riddikulus Form: She cracks a joke instead

Patronus: Bat

Patronus Memory: Him and Juliet finally making amends

Animagus: none

Amortentia (what they smell like): Something metallic, with some old books and something leathery

Amortentia (What they smell): gardenias, roses, and a hint of champagne

Mirror of Erised: Vampires finally being accepted into wizard society

Misc. Magical Abilities: Vampirism

Favorite/Created Spells: none

SCHOOL LIFE

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: n/a

Organizations Joined: None

Apprenticeships: Assistant Professor at Hogwarts

Professions: Professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts 

Best Subjects: History of Magic, Divination, Herbology

Worst Subjects: Potions, Astronomy

Favorite Teachers: n/a

Least Favorite Teachers: n/a

Class Proficiencies (OWL grade, n /10 or ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆):

Astronomy: P

Charms: EE

DADA: EE

Flying: A

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Potions: P

Transfiguration: EE

Ancient Runes: EE

Divination: O

STATS

Power (magic): 8/10

Power (physical strength): 6/10

Intelligence: 10/10

Skill: 7/10

Teamwork: 8/10

Speed: 7/10

Defense: 3/10

RELATIONSHIPS

FAMILY:

Father: Philip Capell, a poor laborer. After Owen turned eighteen and left for his travels, he never saw his father again, and Philip died just a year later. 

Mother: Bridgette Capell, a washerwoman. She met Philip when they were both older, and Owen was their only child. She died when Owen was sixteen. 

Friends:

Closest In-Game Friends:

n/a

Closest MC friends:

None yet (open to interaction)

Love interest:

Juliet Cadogan. She met Owen while he was on a research trip to France when he was twenty-two, and they quickly fell in love. Though she turned him into a vampire, their love has never faded. 

Dorm mates:

None yet (four open spots)

Rivals:

None yet (open to interaction)

Enemies:

n/a

Pets: None

[here4theheartbreak]

AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: Jeon Jungkook x Kim Taehyung (TaeKook) ✩ Genre(s): Smut

✩ Rating: Explicit ✩ Tags: PWP, smut, rough sex, dirty talk, virgin Taehyung, multiple orgasms, coming untouched, switch!Taehyung, switch!Jungkook

✩ Summary: It’s their wedding night, and Taehyung will finally get to join the man he loves in bed.

✩ Word Count: ~2.5k

✩ A/N: Written for @i-live-so-i-love​ based on a request for taekook + wedding night

Taehyung giggled when Jungkook pressed him against the wall. “Three years, seven months, and twenty-three days,” Jungkook mumbled, kissing along Taehyung’s neck as he loosened his tie.

“What?”

“Since we got together. I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Jungkook mumbled.

Taehyung groaned and pushed him back, laughing. “I need to take a shower first.”

“Let me join you,” Jungkook offered, kissing his neck again.

“No.”

Jungkook pouted. “But—“

“Shh. Trust me, baby. I wanna clean myself up for you. Today was so scary... So big, I’ve sweat through damn near every layer of my tux. I don’t want that to be how it is for our first time, okay?”

Jungkook nodded. “I understand. Hurry out, okay? I’ll get the bed ready.” He kissed him deeply and Taehyung grinned.

He hurried into the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes. As he did, the thin gold band on his finger glinted in the light. He was married. He’d been dating Jungkook since Jungkook’s sophomore year at college, though they’d been flirting for a solid year prior. They’d gotten along great, only a few fights over the years, and all solved easily. Taehyung knew he was in love with Jungkook from the first few months of their courtship, but what sealed the deal was a night nearly six months after, when Jungkook’s hand slipped into his jeans.

Though he wasn’t a prude by any means, Taehyung’s dream had always been to lose his virginity on his wedding night. Embarrassed, he had confessed this to Jungkook, apologizing for leading him on.

Rather than anger, Jungkook simply kissed him again and asked him what his boundaries were. Taehyung had never felt more heard and understood in his young life.

There were many times he’d considered breaking his promise to himself, offering his body to the man so patient and loving. They did other things, gentle handjobs under warm showers and desperate dry humping in their darkened bedroom, but nothing further. Even when Taehyung did, one night after one too many drinks, Jungkook declined, stating he was saving that feeling for their wedding night. He’d proposed a week later.

And here he was. Married to the beautiful Jeon Jungkook, cleaning his body in preparation to lose his virginity before being whisked away to Switzerland for a week long honeymoon.

He wondered what Jungkook was doing in the bedroom. He envisioned him nude, hard and ready... What would he feel like, how would he sound? Would it be a similar noise to the happy sounds Jungkook made while jerking off? Or something different, when Taehyung took him inside for the first time?

He reached down, rubbing his hardening cock. He should come once. He didn’t want to come too fast their first time. And he wanted to open himself up anyway...

Taehyung leaned against the shower wall, spitting on his fingers and reaching back to begin fingering himself open. He’d done this a few times, especially in front of Jungkook to give him a show while he masturbated, and it was always a rush. That initial stretch, the tug of his body, throb of his veins so close to the surface. He couldn’t wait to feel Jungkook slide into him.

Taehyung bit his lip, whining as he stroked and fingered himself to the fantasy of being taken by Jungkook. It wouldn’t be a fantasy soon enough, he realized, his cock throbbing desperately. Taehyung cried out when he came, white ropes splashing onto the black tub before being washed down the drain. He knew he was ready. He finished cleaning himself up and applied a little cologne, brushed his teeth and hair, before wrapping one of the plush robes around his body and tying it shut. He left the bathroom, meeting Jungkook’s gaze on the bed.

The room’s lights had been turned off, and Jungkook had turned on a lamp instead. A few candles were burning on the dresser. Taehyung could see two bottles of lube on the bedside stand, as well as two glasses and a bottle of wine. Jungkook rose, clad in only his boxers. He grabbed the bottle. He poured them each a glass and approached Taehyung, handing him his.

“I heard you moan,” he whispered. “Weren’t you supposed to wait for your husband?”

Taehyung giggled, biting his lip. His cheeks reddened.

“I jerked off while I was fingering myself... I wanted to be sort of loosened for you... And I didn’t wanna come too soon, so I figured jerking off would help that.”

Jungkook smirked. He leaned up to Taehyung’s ear, “Its cute that you think I’ll stop after you come. I’m going to take you over and over tonight, Hyungie. I’m gonna make you come over and over until you can’t get hard even if you want to.”

Taehyung shivered. He turned his head, kissing Jungkook deeply. “I want you.”

Jungkook stepped back, sipping his wine. “Lay in bed... On your back first. I wanna see your face the first time we make love.”

Taehyung’s heart clenched. He took a drink and set the glass down, untying his robe and letting it fall. He turned, already half hard from Jungkook’s words.

Jungkook looked him up and down, a small smile on his lips. “Beautiful... Lay in bed for me.”

Taehyung obeyed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Jungkook stripped out of his boxers and crawled over Taehyung, nudging his thighs open. He kissed him deeply, one hand sinking down to stroke his cock.

It moved lower and Taehyung gasped. Jungkook prodded gently at his opening, chuckling when it relaxed.

“How many did you use?” He asked, pulling back to look down at Taehyung.

“Just two. I still wanted to be tight for you.”

“I’m gonna eat you out.”

Before Taehyung could answer, Jungkook grabbed both of the bottles of lube and sank down, spreading his thighs wider. He puffed cool air over Taehyung’s pucker before running  his tongue over it. Taehyung’s back arched. He reached down, burying his fingers in Jungkook’s hair as Jungkook began to lick and suck at the sensitive ring of muscle. He moaned, feeling Jungkook pulling him open, tongue pressing against the inside of the rim a little more each time. The click of a lube bottle, and Taehyung felt a cool dribble down his perenium to his hole. Jungkook groaned.

“Strawberry,” he mumbled against Taehyung’s quivering thigh as he drove two fingers in and spread them.

Taehyung screamed for him, his cock twitching against his belly as he twisted his hips down on Jungkook’s fingers and tongue.

Jungkook pulled back.

“You’re so open already... Are you gonna come from this, Taehyungie-hyung?”

Taehyung whined, tugging his hair again. He bit his lip, his cheeks burning. He was ridiculously close already.

Jungkook smirked. “Do it,” he growled. “Come for me, because of my mouth. Want me to keep eating your ass? Or should I suck on you? Finger you while I do.”

“I don’t care,” Taehyung gasped. “Please—“

“Come on then.”

Jungkook moved back down, driving deeper and picking up his speed as he worked his tongue and fingers into Taehyung’s loosened, eager hole.

Taehyung writhed on the bed, reaching out to stroke himself. Jungkook batted his hand away, using his own free hand to lazily stroke Taehyung’s cock.

“Just let it happen.” Taehyung nodded. His toes began to curl as his orgasm neared, soft whines rising in pitch. Jungkook began to stroke faster, rubbing Taehyung’s prostate dead on even as he licked and sucked his ass.

Taehyung screamed his name as he came, looking down.

Jungkook had shifted, raising his head to let the hot ropes of come land on his cheeks and in his mouth. The sight alone caused another strong clench from Taehyung, a soft moan on his lips. Jungkook licked his lips, gathering the come on his cheeks and sucking it from his fingers.

“My turn.” He moved onto his knees and opened the second bottle of lube. He poured it over his cock and slicked it before lining up.

Breathe through it,” he warned. Taehyung leaned up, kissing him deeply. His cry was muffled by Jungkook’s mouth as he pushed into his ass, consummating their relationship, and tearing away his virginity in one fell swoop.

Jungkook pulled back, stroking Taehyung’s damp hair.

“You okay?”

Taehyung nodded, smiling softly. He forced his body to relax, focusing on the full feeling deep inside, and the warm comfort of Jungkook over him.

“I’m perfect,” he whispered.

“I’m gonna move, okay?”

Taehyung nodded again. He set his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders.

Jungkook pulled out slowly and pushed back in, gasping as he did. Taehyung whined, arching up.

“So big...” He breathed.

“Just because you’re so tight... You feel perfect around me, baby.”

“Make me come again?” Taehyung whispered. Jungkook shuddered. He kissed him gently.

“It’d be my honor.” He picked up a slow, steady pace, driving deep each time. Taehyung moaned, his eyes slipping shut of their own volition. He began to twist his hips up, meeting Jungkook’s. Jungkook kissed over his neck and shoulder, teeth finding purchase just hard enough to make Taehyung hiss. He wrapped his legs around Jungkook’s middle, grabbing his hips.

“Please...”

“So desperate,” Jungkook panted, his voice strained.

Their lips met in a messy kiss, Jungkook’s hips stuttering as his orgasm neared. Taehyung moaned, digging his short nails into his hips. He twisted his hips under Jungkook, clenching around his cock. The desperate grunts and whines slipping from Jungkook’s lips were music to Taehyung’s ears. He slid his hands lower, squeezing Jungkook’s ass. He could feel the muscles tense and release as Jungkook thrusted. He snagged the lube from next to them, opening it with one hand and squirting a bit into his palm. Gently, he spread his ass, smearing it around Jungkook’s hole. He pressed a finger into his ass, grinning when Jungkook gasped. He looked down at Taehyung, his hips stuttering.

Taehyung began to thrust his finger gently, massaging the muscle as he did. “Too much?”

“Keep going,” Jungkook whispered. He slowed his thrusts down to lazy, shallow pumps, clenching around Taehyung’s finger. “More—“

Taehyung added a second, driving a bit deeper and spreading them. Jungkook whined, his hips twisting back. He picked up the pace again, pushing back on Taehyung’s fingers then forward into his ass. Taehyung began to massage Jungkook’s prostate, smirking when it caused his cock to twitch and throb that much harder.

“I’m so close,” Jungkook panted against Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Come,” Taehyung said softly. He added a third finger, stretching Jungkook open.

“You haven’t yet,” Jungkook whined.

“Good. Come in me, Jungkookie... Then I’m gonna take your ass. You’re loving my fingers, aren’t you?”

Jungkook nodded, moaning low in his throat as Taehyung drove them deep.

“You’ll love my cock even more. Come on, baby. You’ve been waiting years to come inside me. I’m all yours... Then you’re gonna be all mine.”

Jungkook grunted against Taehyung’s shoulder. He reached back, pushing Taehyung’s hand away from his ass. Teeth bared in a pleasured snarl, he rose onto his knees, grabbing Taehyung’s hips as he began to pump into him hard and fast.

Taehyung shouted, his back arching. Jungkook groaned his name, his entire body shuddering. Taehyung could feel his cock twitching as his hips stilled, balls throbbing rhythmically, pressed against his ass. He moaned softly, understanding; he was being filled. He flexed his ass in a lazy pattern, dragging soft grunts and whines from Jungkook.

He pulled out slowly, stretching out on the bed next to Taehyung on his stomach. He looked over and smirked, putting his knees under him to lift his ass into the air.

“Your turn... Go hard, okay?”

“I don’t wanna hurt you...” Taehyung worried. He sat up and grabbed the lube, positioning himself behind Jungkook.

“You won’t. I like it like that,” he admitted, his cheeks pinking up even more.

“This position too?”

He nodded. “You’ll get deeper. I’m ready, hyung.”

Taehyung nodded. He leaned over Jungkook, kissing him deeply as he added more lube to his ass. He slicked himself up and pressed the tip against Jungkook’s fluttering hole.

“I’m gonna.”

Jungkook reached back, spreading his ass open. Taehyung moaned at the sight. Slow and steady, he pushed his aching cock into Jungkook’s impossibly tight ass. Jungkook keened against the blanket, twisting his hips back as Taehyung entered his hole.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked when his tip slipped in. “Feels like I’m gonna tear you in two.”

“God, yeah it does,” Jungkook moaned. “Keep going. I wanna feel every inch.”

Taehyung obeyed, pushing deeper and deeper until he was pressed tight to Jungkook’s ass. “Took it all.”

Jungkook moaned helplessly. He raised himself up onto his knees, pressing his back to Taehyung’s chest. “I feel you in my stomach. You’re so fucking big,” he whined. “Fuck me. Take me hard.”

Taehyung kissed Jungkook’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his stomach and one around his chest to keep him still and upright. He pulled almost completely out and drove back in, their bodies slamming together. Jungkook screamed brokenly, going forward as much as Taehyung’s grip allowed.

“Yes! Again,” he begged.

Taehyung did so, and again, savoring the loud cries of his husband and the impossibly tight clench around his cock.

“Fuck... I’m not gonna last long, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook whined, his words broken up by Taehyung’s thrusts. “C— Come in me.”

Taehyung swore. He began to thrust faster, his balls tighteninf against his body in warning. The come Jungkook had left in him began to dribble down his thighs, adding to the dirty, sexy arousal of the situation.

Jungkook shuddered hard, and his ass began to clench and release around Taehyung’s cock impossibly tight.

“F—Faster,” he huffed, grabbing Taehyung’s hand on his stomach and sliding it down to his soft cock, making him cup it.

Taehyung fucked his ass faster, approaching his own orgasm with the help of Jungkook’s clenching.

Jungkook’s cock began to twitch in his hand, and he felt the first sticky spurt of come dribble between his fingers.

“Fuck—“ He whispered. Each thrust into his ass caused more come to dribble out of Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook cupped his hands over Taehyung’s rutting against his palm as he shuddered and whined.

“Jungkook, I’m—“ Taehyung groaned against his shoulder as he came, the fluttering clench of Jungkook’s ass too much to resist.

When Taehyung could balance no more, the two slumped onto the bed, panting for air.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung panted, kissing Jungkook’s jaw. “What was that?”

“P—Prostate orgasm. I taught myself a few years ago, fuck..” He winced. “Wears you out though. Was it... Too weird?” He looked over.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Taehyung admitted. They shared a gentle kiss.

“Let’s shower together then go to bed,” Jungkook mumbled, brushing their noses together.

Taehyung nodded. “We gotta be up early for our flight,” he agreed. He let Jungkook pull him up and head toward the bathroom. Three years, seven months, and twenty-three days… And he was finally married to the man he loved. He couldn’t wait to begin counting again, the days they spent together, for the rest of their lives.

[cinanamon]

body & blood — pjm (m)

pairing | jimin x reader

genre | angst, smut, vampire!au, high society!au, mutual pining!au

word count | 5.5K

synopsis | Jimin has been in love with you for the past century, but ever since you’ve been betrothed, he can’t help but feel guilty.

warning | biting, blood, gore. smut: body worship, penetration, unsafe sex

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally been decided for a couple decades now.”

Jimin groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Taehyung glanced around the dark walls of the stone gazebo for any prying eyes before clearing his throat.

“Jimin, look,” Taehyung paused as he caught sight of a few guests greeting each other by the decorative iron gate, cloaks hiding their figures from the waning dusk. He coaxed Jimin more into the shadows before continuing. “You guys don’t have to get along at first; it’s normal. You’re going to be stuck together for the next millennium so no one is going to expect you guys to love each other.”

“But that’s what I want, Taehyung!” Jimin lamented as he raised his head, “I’ve had a crush on her for the last century, and now that we’ve been arranged it’s like—I don’t want her to be stuck with me.”

Taehyung sighed but patted Jimin’s arm empathetically. “Well you have time on your side. She’ll have to get used to you at some point.”

Jimin wailed again as Taehyung heard sharp footfalls down the stone steps to their left before he saw Jungkook appear, his eyes glowing red as he leaned against a column.

“Are you guys ready? Your dad’s getting impatient, Jimin.” Jimin felt his cold blood freeze in his veins as he looked between his two lifelong friends.

“Why? The sun hasn’t even fully set yet!”

“Most of the guests are here already; who would miss the union of the two highest-standing vampires’ offspring?”

Jimin cried in his head that he wished everyone would have missed it, but he kept his mouth shut; instead, Jimin pressed his lips together anxiously. “How does she look?”

Jungkook chuckled, his fanged teeth shining in the pale light emitting from the lantern above. “She looks beautiful, as always; when you stop being a baby bat then you can catch a glimpse of her for yourself.”

Jimin scowled lightly but still didn’t move, simply crossing his arms and looking up at the large cathedral to their right. Taehyung looked down and sighed again. “Jimin, why do you think she hates you? You’re not a burden. Maybe you’ve been too shy to talk to her for the past decade because of your betrothal, but we still talk to her; she doesn’t hate you.”

“Well she will. We’re being married against our will. She’s probably disgusted at me and my family name.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and guffawed. “When has it ever seemed like she hated the idea?” Jimin opened his mouth to list times where you seemed even slightly irritated by him, but Jungkook interrupted him. “She never argued with her parents about the betrothal, and for Chris—“ he choked on the holy word and coughed, rephrasing, “for Dracula’s sake, she’s standing up there with your family waiting for you.”

Jimin warily eyed the peaks of the cross at the top of the church before meeting Jungkook’s eye, “she’s been ignoring me since.”

“Correction,” Taehyung butted in, his gaze pointed and brows raised, “you’ve been ignoring her since.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, “I have not been—“

“You’ve been staring at her love struck for the past hundred years, Jimin! You’re so afraid of rejection that you’ve been limiting contact with her; all she wants is to talk to you, and you refuse to open up!” Jungkook exasperatedly cried.

Jimin finally turned around in a flurry of motion, an expression of anguish and fear upon his face. “She doesn’t want to be with me! And even if she does now, she won’t after we’re married because she’ll see that I don’t live up to my family name or our pure blood—“

“Jimin, I have been hearing this for the past fifty years so if you don’t get up there now, I will make you.” Taehyung cut him off, but his voice was not affectionate and understanding like before; this one was curt and low like a growl, fitting to the warning he gave. Even Jungkook had stiffened; when Taehyung made a threat, he promised to keep it.

Jimin dropped his hands to his side and looked at his best friend helplessly. He had been friends with the boy since the bubonic plague. Their bond strengthened into the age of colonization until they finally reached the modern times of the 21st century—Jimin always thought the Victorian age had suited Taehyung best—but Jimin had learned one thing about Taehyung through all the growing pains; Taehyung always meant well.

Jimin sucked in his breath. If Taehyung thought this was good for him—that he was overthinking it all—then maybe he was, and maybe things would work out.

Jimin met Taehyung’s focused red eyes before drifting to Jungkook’s curious, waiting ones. Finally, he exhaled. “Okay. I’m ready.” Taehyung closed his eyes and sighed as he relaxed before he ushered Jimin down the gazebo steps.

Jungkook took the lead at Taehyung’s nod, who began to adjust Jimin’s suit and fix his black hair into a neat position as they ascended the steps. Jimin thought his undead heart might just start beating.

Since they were cursed by God, they couldn’t truly enter the church and hold a marriage service, so instead they had set up in the gardens just outside, so that the cathedral’s magnificence could act as a backdrop to the night’s ceremony.

“We’re behind schedule,” Jungkook warned over his shoulder as they reached the top of the steps. Instantly, all of the guests turned on their benches to focus on them with their haunting scarlet gazes. Jimin froze, but Jungkook and Taehyung patted his back roughly as they ducked to the side to take their spot by the pedestal.

Jimin forced himself to move his legs and advance towards the altar before his father could become angrier by his impunctuality and fear. He kept his gaze away from the front—away from you—and he held his breath as he took in each bench he passed.

Well, there were Taehyung’s parents; they owned a prosperous tobacco farm from when Jamestown had been established, and their family business was still going strong. And to his right were the Jungs, who had been gifted metalworkers who, during the medieval age, used to make armor and weaponry but now carved delicate and beautiful jewelry. He ticked off each powerful family in his head as he passed each row, and when he made it to the pedestal, he forced himself to step up.

Now, Jimin had to look up, and he was terrified. He swallowed harshly and lifted his gaze; first to his best men, but at Taehyung’s pointed glare, he switched his gaze to what was before him and his breath hitched in his throat.

You were waiting before the altar—or, moreso his father’s supposed resting place, but since his father was undead it was better suited as an altar—with the closest they had to a priest beside you. And the only thing coming to Jimin’s blank mind was that you were beautiful. You were wearing something akin to a wedding dress—white, even though no vampire was pure—but it appeared from the past century, old and lacy with long billowing sleeves and a long train. You peered at him with red eyes and a red lip behind a thin veil, your hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of your neck. With how many compliments Jimin received about his appearance, he still felt like he could never compare his beauty to your own.

Jimin nearly stumbled as he came to stand across from you, and although his limbs moved slowly, his mind raced a mile a minute.

You looked up at Jimin under your lashes and though your face was cold, you offered a soft simper that Jimin questioned was even real. The priestly man before the both of you cleared his throat; he could not hold a bible in his hands without being burned, so he seemed to speak from memory or from his own variation.

“We gather here today to witness the union of two children of the night; the two purest of our breed. They have been betrothed in order to strengthen the blood of our creation; it is this union that will mark the beginning of a new age.”

Jimin found it hard to swallow as he listened to the man’s words, but his eyes never strayed from you. He knew this marriage was not upon love—marriage between vampires, for how long they lasted, never did—but he couldn’t help but wish that maybe you saw this as more than a kind of business deal.

“Jimin, son of the Parks, one of the first of the pureblooded vampires: do you accept this woman to be your wife?”

You dropped your gaze from the preacher to meet his, and Jimin found your piercing gaze to be like knives that struck him to where he stood, rendering him useless; your gaze was not hostile, but they were deep, and that almost scared Jimin more. “I do.”

“And do you, matron of the night, accept this man to be your husband?”

And the vibrancy of your gaze sent chills down his spine. “I do.”

The preacher made a quick motion of his hand and Taehyung stepped up from the side to present a set of gold rings to the man. Jimin instantly recognized them as the family heirlooms of his family, the rings that had been passed down to each couple as they married for the last six eras. Jimin had little time to ponder what his parents wore now instead as the man handed the fuller band to you.

You gingerly lifted the ring so that the arriving moonlight could gaze upon it and reflect its beauty and shine before you lowered a hand to grasp Jimin’s. He jerked slightly in surprise, but you tightened your hold to raise his hand so it was between both of your chests. As you slipped the ring upon his third left finger, you fluttered your gaze to his, and Jimin felt as if he could die right then, if he weren’t undead, of course.

You kept a tight hold upon your conjoined hands, as the preacher handed Jimin the other gold ring with a beautiful diamond built into it. Jimin stared at it in a daze for a minute before he stretched out to find your free hand. You brought it up with ease, but within his palm it shook. You steadied it gently and Jimin’s eyes darted to yours. Again, they gave nothing away; you just looked upon him with a cool gaze of intrigue. Jimin took a deep breath before he let the ring glide around your own finger. Now, both of your hands were clasped between where your unbeating hearts lied.

The preacher made no cue, but now Jungkook stepped forward. From his belt he produced a thin, silver knife engraved in old Latin, with gemstones lining the hilt. Jimin knew this part.

The man accepted it and without a word, both you and Jimin opened your left hands so your palms faced upwards.

He did not hesitate and promptly sliced open the skin of both of your palms. Blood came to the surface instantly, and neither of you wasted time in clasping each other’s hands tightly, so that your blood mixed.

“Now their blood has been joined; in body and soul, these children have been wed. May they spend the rest of eternity together, till death do they part.” As if to mark the end of the ceremony, your bonded blood pooled within your hands and trailed along your skin before splattering upon the cobblestone in large, red specks.

Jimin let his eyes trace up your arm to the curve of your jaw till he let himself meet your eyes once more. They were entrancing; you already had your eyes set upon him, and he let his gaze linger as the guests began to mingle and leave the garden to retire back to his parents’ home for the banquet.

Jimin knew in regular human weddings, the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. Jimin wondered now what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your soft, red lips meld against his, to feel you whisper against his own. And even though you were now married, he felt like he didn’t have the right to do so.

He tore his hazy gaze away from your own and peeled his hand away as well; by now, the blood had begun to dry and was oddly sticky, as if unwilling to let you separate and end the wedding. Jimin winced as he looked upon his palm; the wound had already begun to heal, leaving behind a raised line where the blade had cut. Jimin closed his fist and offered you a tight smile.

You blinked at him, as if you yourself were also starting to realize the reality of your relationship and that his blood was now flowing within you. You delicately extended your hand outwards, and Jimin instinctively accepted it with his unmarked hand. He helped you step down from the pedestal, and the ground seemed to be unsteady beneath you now as you leaned into his side.

Jimin uneasily remembered his prior fears, so he subtly stepped away once you found your footing. He missed the way you looked at him wistfully as he guided you out of the garden and walked you to his family home, your new home. Would he never return the affection you held for him? Would he forever keep his distance, like he did for the past decade? You had never before desired so terribly the touch of another being.

The walk to his family’s home was silent, and not necessarily pleasant. You both snuck each other glances, but neither spoke a word of it; neither of you seemed to be so sure what they meant. Once you arrived, there were cheers of congratulations that greeted you and enveloped you in its pride. You sent back smiles of thanks, but once sat at the head table, both of your expressions were blank.

There was no true joy for either of you. The congratulations was mainly for both of your parents, for their tactful union of the purest blood. It wasn’t happiness based on love and emotion, simply strategy.

And so you sat in polite silence. You both drank the wine from your glasses and drank the blood from the lamb presented on your plates. Satisfied, you then carefully threw the meat to the bloodhounds that sat amongst your feet; the beasts greedily accepted the lamb and began to tear through the muscle, snapping the bones within with ease.

You took another sip of your wine and looked upon your new husband; Jimin refused to meet your gaze, instead studying the group of noble vampires who mingled before you. You placed down your glass with resolve; you could not live for eternity beside this man if it would be like this.

You stood and softly brushed your hand upon Jimin’s shoulder so he was forced to gaze upon you, but you only met his gaze mysteriously before ducking out of the banquet hall. No one seemed to notice the newlyweds’ absence as Jimin followed you in a hurried sense of curiosity.

You had begun to explore his family’s gothic home, and you chose not to respond to Jimin’s hushed call for you. With no response, Jimin was left to reluctantly follow and fall into step beside you. He must have realized that he would have to wait for when you were ready, and so he fell silent as he watched you study the paintings of his ancestors and the antiques.

It wasn’t until you were thoroughly lost and deeply satisfied with your search that you spoke, your voice soft, mellow.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Jimin’s eyes widened and he snapped his neck to look at you directly, but you had still not taken your gaze off of the wall. Your face began to glow a warm yellow as you approached another wall light at a leisurely pace, but Jimin felt as if you were glowing from within. After all, this was the first time you had directly talked to him for the last ten years. Whether that was his or your fault, he didn’t want to claim.

When he failed to respond to you, you finally turned your head so your eyes could meet his. Instantly, the closer half of your face fell into a blue shadow, and Jimin’s breath hitched at your narrowing gaze. “Did you not hear me or do you not reciprocate?”

“I—“ Jimin fumbled over his words; he couldn’t think straight around you. What were you thinking? What was appropriate? “I heard.”

Finally, you halted in the center of the hall. He couldn’t help but think that you seemed to replicate a picture of his great grandmother in her own wedding dress on the wall behind you, her expression stern and bouquet limp in her hands. Or maybe you were more akin to a ghost as your figure swayed in the luminosity of the moonlight, shining on your pale skin as if it were a pearl and rendering the lace of your gown transparent.

Jimin didn’t seem to have enough time to ponder as you frowned and your firm voice filtered through his ears again. “Did you not wish to be wed to me?”

He choked. Where did you get that idea? “Not at all!” He eyed you incredulously before he took in your appearance; you looked so bitter as you wrung your hands, as if you were sure he didn’t want to be with you. He couldn’t bear to see you as such, so anguished, and so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You didn’t interrupt him as he gathered his thoughts; you simply watched him with a guarded sense of hope.

Jimin, for once, let go of all his fears and doubts; if he had guessed wrong, then you could spend the rest of your marriage hating him. As long as he came clean, he could live with it.

He finally opened his eyes and let out a long, drawn out sigh. His eyes trailed to you and you seemed to accept the tired yet emotional intensity in their depths, as if he was too tired to keep anything from you anymore. Again he sighed; a soft, lovesick sigh as he let himself openly admire you as he admitted, “Truly, I’ve wished to be wed to you for as long as I’ve lived.”

You stiffened. Your hands clenched each other at the base of your torso and your lips were taut, but your eyes never left his own, searching for some kind of clue that he was being untrue. “You have not so much as dared look at me for the past ten years.”

“I have,” Jimin countered without missing a beat. Where was this confidence coming from? He took a cautious step closer to you and he bit his lip. “I’ve fancied you from afar for a century; it was the engagement that terrified me enough to pull away.”

“Why?” You breathed, and your voice cracked as you felt his hand slip into yours. “What would terrify you about our betrothal? Wouldn’t that make you happy?” Tears began to prick at your eyes.

“It would,” he carefully said, his eyes peeking up at yours as he drew closer. You could feel his breath fan across your face as he whispered, “but this betrothal wasn’t made between us. It wasn’t for us.”

You felt Jimin’s other hand gingerly wipe a stray tear from your cheek, but you never looked away from his red eyes as you understood, your lips parting. “Do you wish it was a marriage sealed with a kiss instead of blood?”

And Jimin inhaled sharply as he rested his hand upon your cheek to caress it. He tilted his head so your lips lingered an inch away from his. “Yes,” your hand tightened around his, “I do.” And then he pressed his lips to yours.

It was not hasty or rushed at your sudden confessions, but rather slow and gentle, simply relishing in the feeling of each other’s lips against your own. After all, you did have all the time in the world.

It was a strange change, for as long as you’ve lived, you have never indulged in such feelings with another vampire. It was common for vampires to fool around with humans as they came of age, but moreso because it was an easy way to get humans to let their guard down enough to drink their blood. But to kiss without ulterior motives, to kiss based on emotion, was foreign to your race. But it was a pleasant change, you now knew for certain as you felt Jimin’s plush lips slip against your own, his fangs gently nipping at your lower lip.

You raised your arms from your sides so you could glide them along his shoulders, where they then settled on either side of his neck to hold him close to you with gentle caresses. Jimin was still slow in his movements as he mimicked your sentiments to drape his own arms over your waist, his hands firmly planting themselves on the small of your back.

Though your tears had dried, you still felt the pricking sensation at the corners of your eyes as you separated. You both kept your eyes closed as you breathed together, your noses brushing against each other. When your eyes did flutter open, you felt swallowed by the adoration in Jimin’s gaze. You mindlessly let your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, and his own grip tightened upon you as a cloud passed before the moon, casting you both in shadow and the minimal yellow glow of the wall lights.

In the darkness, Jimin’s red eyes seemed to shine even more radiantly, pulling you to him like a lighthouse pulled in ships at sea. And it was unspoken as you disentangled yourselves enough for him to grab your hand and guide you behind him, farther into the maze of the gothic home.

He escorted you into his bedroom, and the moon seemed to know what your plan was as it beamed upon the bed, the white sheets gleaming under its scrutiny. Jimin’s touch was gentle as he pulled you towards him so your fronts were flush against each other, and he caught both your wrists within his hold as he chased your lips.

This time, the kiss was a little firmer, proving that you were there and he was true. His hands seared their way down your forearms and under the billowing sleeves of your dress. It seemed to prove as another hindrance as Jimin dragged his lips below your jaw, but could not venture farther behind the turtleneck collar.

Jimin exhaled audibly through his nose, but he carefully turned you around. You complied and waited with bated breath as you heard the tight buttons down your spine begin to pop open, one by one. The prickling sensation of each was quickly replaced by his pillow-y lips, and he must have felt the shiver that traveled down your spine in the same direction his butterfly kisses were headed. His hands crawled up your shoulder blades as his lips explored, and they began to peel the dress off your shoulders. And as his lips met the curve at the base of your spine, the rest of your dress followed suit as it bunched you around your hips. You heard Jimin’s quiet chuckle but you were too focused for blood to rush to your cheeks. Jimin smoothly drew the dress the rest of the way down the expanse of your legs, and he knelt so it was easier for you to step out of it.

The second you were fully free of the gown, you found yourself gracefully sat upon the edge of the bed. Jimin’s eyes glimmered as he took you in, as if he still couldn’t believe that he was the one you chose to accept as not only your husband, but as your lover. To the both of you, that made all the difference.

Something seemed to burn within him suddenly, and he tore off his overcoat and hastily unbuttoned his dress shirt. You greedily took in the sight of his exposed and toned skin, and you couldn’t wait to let your hands explore it much the same as your eyes did. His chest rose up and down rapidly, as if gulping for air as he met your gaze heatedly again.

Though, you took note, he had not risen from his knelt position yet; instead, he moved closer to you and gently cupped your heel within his palm. Just like at the wedding, you simply studied him with a calm gaze of curiosity; you and Jimin were too sure of each other now to be ashamed.

Jimin kept his gaze trained upon yours as he lowered his lips to caress your ankle. He lowered his eyes as he brushed his lips upwards, under your calf and briefly mouthing at your knee before traveling along your inner thigh. Your hands found their place in his hair now, gently tugging his attention from your leg back to your face. His pupils were dilated and you were sure yours were blown just as wide, from lust and devotion. Your hand skimmed down over his cheek until you reached the lips he had just worshiped you with. You thumbed at the slowly reddening skin, softly pulling his bottom lip down until it slipped back into place.

Jimin let out a shaky breath before he began to stand up, pushing you down into the bed in the process till he loomed over you and between your legs. Again, it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of your lungs as you admired Jimin’s flushed cheeks and his undoing. You went to cup his cheeks in your hands, but Jimin’s will was stronger than your own as he grasped the hand over his mouth and pulled it outwards.

You were left to watch as his attention fell upon your conjoined hands, your palm upwards. His eyes studied the matching scar from the blade in silence with a sort of reverence as he stroked it softly. He then lowered his head and—just as he did to your leg—he pressed a light kiss upon it. He took the gentle, meaningful pecks down the extent of your arm, the hollow of your elbow, and up to your shoulder till his dark hair tickled your jaw.

You let him continue his ministrations in silence, for you trusted Jimin; Jimin had never been one to be dishonest or disreputable, for the hundreds of years you had known him. And now, he was your husband, even closer than so; Jimin was to be your other half, whether your kind realized that or not.

You closed your eyes as Jimin traveled from your collarbone to the curvature of your throat, where he had wanted to be before when your dress was in the way. He planted another loving kiss upon your neck before you felt his fangs prick your skin. Your eyes snapped open and widened as he bit you and began to drink a small amount of your blood.

You couldn’t recall a time when a vampire had bit another; there was no need. Blood was a food source, and was only substantial when taken from a living being. You were not alarmed for it was only Jimin, and the bite ended nearly as soon as he began, but it still left you perplexed.

As Jimin pulled away and dislodged his fangs, he let out a low groan in the quiet of the room, his hands subconsciously tightening around your forearms.

You kept your gaze trained on the ceiling instead of straining yourself to see him below your jaw, and you stretched your neck subtly, the muscles within flexing. “How was it?”

Jimin chuckled lightly, and it tickled your throat. “Your blood is delectable.”

You raised a brow and let out a quiet, airy laugh. “Truly? Better than the lamb’s at dinner? Better than a young mundane woman’s?”

Jimin lifted himself now, and the humor within you died at the seriousness and intimacy of his gaze as he leveled his face with yours. “Truly,” his bangs skimmed along your forehead as his eyes bore into yours, causing your throat to go dry. His eyes lidded as he lowered himself, his lips moving against yours as he whispered, “It is sweet.” And once more, the heavens graced you by having his lips against yours.

It was one thing to give your blood in union with a vampire, but it was another to give your body. Your own moved against his without either of you needing to consciously think about it, your bodies naturally in sync to reach an end goal of ecstasy. Jimin’s hands loosened around your arms to push your legs farther aside, and you took the chance to trace along his ribs, to caress where his abdomen and chest met.

Jimin separated from you with a gasp, and he hastily began to kiss down the length of your sternum and between the thin, lacey band of your bra. He pecked the top of your stomach before he pulled away fully, his chest heaving and skin just as sweaty as yours. He pulled your panties down the expanse of your legs before he undid his belt and pushed his trousers down to his knees to discard of them off the side of the bed.

Once there were no more barriers, Jimin lunged back over you with a new vigor to connect your lips harshly. The air of intimacy had shifted from soft and unbelieving to passionate and desperate; you didn’t have a true preference between either as he settled his elbows on either side of your head and entered you.

Your back arched and hands flew to his shoulder blades as you tried to stifle a low moan. Jimin hungrily accepted your sounds with his unforgiving kiss, and they seemed to act as encouragement for him to pick up a quick pace. Though it seemed merciless in action, you knew Jimin was ardent and tender; your pleasure was his goal in his bruising pace.

You kept your lips pressed together firmly for the duration of your race to finish, and your hands were frantic on each other, taking hold of whatever heated skin you could touch.

Your finally gasped and your legs tightened around Jimin’s middle, keeping him tight against your core. Your hands nearly choked Jimin by their strength around the back of his neck, and he managed to open his bleary eyes enough to witness your pleasure. He moaned at the sight and feeling of you pulling him in, and his own sounds grew higher in pitch and in frequency before he himself let go, his hands coming to seize your hair in his grasp as he scrunched his eyes tight.

You both stayed in place for a few moments to catch your breath, your eyes staring into each other’s depths as your chests pressed together with every heave. With a soft groan, Jimin separated himself from you enough to give you room. He searched around the vicinity of the bed for anything to clean you off with, but when it turned up futile, he reluctantly pulled up the sheets and dragged it across your inner thighs to wipe off any of his release mixed with your own; you were both too hot for the sheet anyways.

He settled back down beside you with a sighed huff, and you instantly curled into his side so your head was upon his chest; instinctively, his own arm found its way around you to keep you close.

You both stared out the window at the moon who, since you were married earlier that evening, regarded you with its silent approval. Neither of you spoke, and Jimin lowered his head enough to place a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Your shoulders stiffened slightly as you turned over them to meet his gaze again. It was easy to get lost in his glowing eyes, for they told of an overflowing amount of emotion for you that would scare any other vampire.

You chose not to reply with words, instead lidding your gaze and gently pressing your lips to his like you did in the hallway; soft, plush, slow—the simple feeling of each other together.

To the rest of your vampire clan, your wedding was only another successful union of blood.

But to you, you and Jimin knew that your wedding was only sealed by a kiss.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@minsprings​ said “vampires” and I lost it

[honestsycrets]

No, No, A Thousand Times No!

❛ pairing | ivar x plus sized!reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ request | may I please request a best friend ivar x plus size reader where when he becomes king he wants her to be his queen but she says no claiming she is to fat and ugly to be his queen but he shows her how wrong she is to him with a smutty night

❛ summary | ivar comes to speak with reader-chan’s father. she thinks its for her sisters. maybe not.

❛  warnings | verbal arguments.

❛ sy’s notes | i have so many smutty requests that i’m basically letting these things guide themselves.

“Can I offer you Frida?”

“I have no interest in Frida. If I came for Frida, I would have asked for Frida.”

Shh, say your sisters. They stand in a line of bumbling giggles arguing among one another of who King Ivar, your stupid best friend, had come for. Frida’s lips were pursed, pushing away from the dividing curtain with great insult as if someone had shat in her porridge. Your grip tightens around the smooth broom, flicking up the dust your brothers kicked in. They’re all lined up in a circle. All three of them, laughing among one another, then at Frida who had been alive with hope.

“Did you actually think Ivar would come for you, stick girl?” Your brother Rune says, his grey eyes glittery and alive, like a waging storm behind the black hair that fell loosely around his broad shoulders. He wags a ringed finger at Frida, whose slender pencil-like frame puffs up like an angry frog, storming past.

“That ol’fool is coming for (Y/N), mark my words.”

“Shut up, Rune.” You throw over to him, smacking his boots with your broom. “I know Ivar. I’ve known him my whole life. Now move your feet. You’re always in the way! Ugh, they’re muddy!”

“I don’t think you dooo,” chides blond-haired Bo. Sune laughs along with him. Rune throws his feet up, and there’s a great gasp from behind you. Your sisters disperse to their tasks. One batting the laundry, another putting away bread in a chest with hurried need. You stand upright when your father raises the curtain apart, leaving room for Ivar to come in.

“Look who is back!” Rune throws his hands up, ale sloshing over Sune. Sune flicks his hands up, hissing: Seriously, Rune? “You came to steal my sister, I’ve heard you.”

“Steal?” Ivar prompts, stomping his crutch closer. “It doesn’t qualify as stealing if you’re paid.”  

“How much are you talking?”

Your father swats Rune, annoyance riding your eyes, and glance off to your best friend. “He’s in some delusion that you’ve come to ask for my hand instead of Signe’s.”

“I have.”

And your brothers try not to haul off in their laughter, but by their rolling giggles, rising chests, they fail. Ivar lits a fuse that connects to each brother, roaring in crass laughter at you, more than Ivar. We told you, we told you!

“No, no, no.”

“Out,” your father gestures his children. Though Bo and Rune complain-- why do we have to go outside? They filter out altogether, leaving your fists balled up on your hips. You wipe grime with your dress, flicking it down in irritation. Then, setting up your broom, you start to clean the bowls of dinner that sit abandoned.

“That joke was in shit taste,” you tell him. Clack after clack he follows you through the longhouse, keeping up with your storming steps. It’s all a mess. “Who did you ask for? Estrid? Signe?”

“What is it about this that is so unbelievable? I told you what I came for.”

You’re unfocused, slinging out words and spit and the dishes like you want them to be fake and untrue. He doesn’t understand why-- he twists his jaw one against another, rocking with his thoughts until he’s blockading you from moving by dropping his crutch. Your attention centers on him, his heady words and certain eyes and he’s never been uncertain of anything. Please stop, you want to beg, but your pride stands in the way of saying just that.

“Look at me,” you look down to your thick hands, slipping them over your full midsection. Your voice is dampened by irritation, but not by his own actions, yours. Ivar is the image of a Viking in his spirit. His hands are calloused and split, a trophy. “I’m not made to be a queen. No, no no, no no. Pick someone else.”

“And? Do I look like I was meant to rule?” He tells you, neutral and soft, with a hint of self-deprecation. “My father--”

“Ivar. You have to pick someone else.” You think back, chewing on your lip, ignoring the fact that he’s grasping your shoulder, shaking you to cognition. Please. He curls his hand under your chin, thumb rubbing one sole circle. It’s soft. Not what you want. You want him to go, choose someone else, someone who wouldn’t be laughed at by rival kings. Even if Kattegat got used to your shape, your size, your image-- You could hear the underhanded comments now about your weight, your chin, your belly.

“Why are you so stubborn,” Ivar rumbles. “Frida, hm?”

“She wouldn’t know how to take care of your legs.” You quickly bite back, as if it were stupid to make such a proposition, and maybe it was. Ivar’s hand falls from your shoulders, slapping the side of his tunic once, twice, then he raises his index finger up.

“Estrid.” A shake of your head.

“Signe, then.”

“God, Ivar, Signe?” you bite out, daring to shove him in his chest. Signe was a slated insult. He knows that you’re jealous of Signe’s shape, only because you could not appreciate your own. “You would starve!”

“I have thralls to cook, and clean, and do the work.” Ivar lurches out, snatching your wrist. He squeezes your wrist in one hand, shoulder in another. Commanding his feet to drag, he leans in, you baring the weight of his muscular body. “Let us see, let us see. The truth is… You would never approve of any of them,” Ivar says you’re name, and he’s leaning in, asserting his words. “Not Signe, or Estrid, or poor little Frida.”

“Maybe, but they aren’t good enough for you,” you look at him, through him almost, pleading for him not to do this again. Not to pick someone else and tear you apart again, not like Freydis. You may say pick someone else, but you’ve never meant it.

“I know. You are. That is why I’ve paid your dowry.” Ivar cleans his hands of the matter. You’re cursing him in a moment, cursing the way he leaves you standing there, crawling to his crutch and managing to stand right back up like it’s nothing. You chase him through the room, swatting at him like an angry cat.

“You can’t just buy my dowry and expect me to be okay with that. Give my father--”

“I can. And I have.” It feels sharp on his lips.

“Ivar!”

He reaches the threshold of your home when he turns, snatching the neckline of your dress, and pulls you forward to his lips in a clash of emotion. Your disapproval, his need. He leans in, slick, quick, and desperate, flicking his tongue between your lips to take your kiss. It’s not his first, not even his second, or third. But either way, the kiss feels meant for you in this moment, and your hand comes to the back of his neck, clutching his neck so tightly in fear that the moment might shatter apart. It does, but by Ivar’s volition when he pulls the doors apart, pecking your lips with one last, teasing kiss.

“See? I knew it,” he says, shoving his crutch onto the sturdy ground. He falls after it, stabbing past his guards. “The wedding will be in a week. Be ready by then.”

“Ivar ugh! I hate you!” you shout, the blood has risen to your face. Rune sweeps around, busy with looking at a fat cow Ivar has brought. No doubt part of your dowry.  “I love you, brother-in-law!”

“Rune shut the fuck up!”

You slam the doors shut. You hate your brother too.

@artxfuck @flowers-in-your-hayr @fireangel1978 @tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24​, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl​ @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @tgrrose​ @cookies186​ @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever​

[icecream-and-gadreel]

FMK Ch. 1: Dean, Sam, Castiel (NSFW)

Series Summary: The trickster is known for his cruel, oftentimes deadly pranks. So when you, Sam, and Dean found out he was up to his old ways again, you came with reinforcements. What should have been a swift victory turned into you being stuck in the wildest game you've ever played in your life.

Summary: You close in on the Trickster's hiding place, but soon fall prey to one of his pranks.

Pairing: Readerxvarious

Other characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Charlie, Bobby, Gabriel

Rating: NSFW (Quick! Read it while your boss isn't looking!)

Warnings: Blanket Warning: Due to the nature of the series, everything has dubious consent! Language, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), violence, implied death, hallucinations

Word count: 1900+

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom​ @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

A/N: Boy. I honestly don't know how to prepare you for this. So...enjoy pals!

Masterlist

The trickster bites into a nougat filled chocolate bar, watching as you all surround him. Dean and Sam on either side of him, you and Castiel in front. The room is murky grey, with flickering fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. As far as you can tell, the warehouse goes on and on farther than you can see. It was only seconds after entering the building that you knew exactly what you were dealing with.

“This ends, now,” Sam growls, gripping the blood-drenched stake in hand. The trickster stares around with an exaggerated gasp, pretending to shiver. Castiel narrows his eyes, gaze trained on the trickster.

“Aw, look! You got my boots shaking!” the trickster cooes, holding a shaking hand up to his mouth. When nobody laughs, he rolls his eyes, taking another generous bite out of his candy bar. “You guys are no fun~”

“How are you still alive?” Dean asks, gaining a shrug in response.

“Dean, something isn't right,” Castiel says, staring around the room. As you turn to ask him what's wrong, the angel is gone.

“Cas?” you whisper, pausing when you notice that the trickster is looking at you.

“Why haven't I seen you around?” he asks, gesturing to the Winchester's. “I'm used to the tall, dark, and brooding ones, but who are you?”

“Unimportant,” you respond, trying to keep a brave face. Though he doesn't seem the serious type, he has an unmistakable air about him, more powerful than you could have ever imagined. “We can't let you keep killing people.”

The trickster stares at the men, ignoring your words. Turning his eyes back to you, he gestures around the room. “Fuck, marry, kill. Dean, Sam, or me?” he asks.

“Let's start with kill,” you grunt, raising your gun to him. The trickster tssks you, resting a hand on his hip.

“Come on, easy question,” he says, a frown going over his face as the Winchester's rush toward him. With a snap of his fingers, the other men are gone, leaving just you.

Shit.

He closes in on you, and you take cautious steps away from him, trying to will yourself to shoot him. “I like you, new girl, I really do.”

“Stay away –” You cut yourself off when he disappears, eyes shifting around the room in panic. It seems smaller now. There aren't any windows, and the door you entered through disappeared. “Sam?” you call, your voice echoing off the walls. “Dean? Casti...el...” your voice trails away as your eyes land on a sparkly pink notebook and a sharpie laying in the middle of the room. Crouching down, you flip it open, your face sinking. The page is covered in hearts and cutesy doodles. But what catches your eye is the big, blocky letters written smack dab in the middle.

FUCK MARRY KILL: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

You toss the notebook away, shaking your head and staring up at the ceiling. “No, fuck you! Let me out of here!” you hiss. No response. “I won't play!” you scream. Again, nothing. You clench your jaw, the looming realization that you're at his mercy setting in. “God damn it...” Reluctantly, you plop down on the ground, staring at the page once more. “God fucking damn it...” you mumble, ticking off your choices. You flinch at the sound of girlish giggles and squeals filling the room, searching for the source of the noise. The notebook disappears from your hands with a puff of glitter, and the lights above you flicker. Your body feels heavy, like it's sinking into the ground beneath you. Closing your eyes, you allow your body to fall back, expecting to feel hard concrete beneath you. Instead, you feel something plush.

__

Warmth.

Hands grabbing at you greedily.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up with the moment, but when you do, you press a harsh kiss against your lover's lips, hands lacing through his hair as he grinds against you. You both roll around on the bed, biting and sucking at each other's lips, your legs wrapped around his waist. When he pulls out of the kiss, you bat open your eyes, a breath escaping you. 

Sam's face is flushed red, his pouty lips swollen and wet.

“Sammy...” you breathe, tightening your legs around him. He responds with a coy smile, trailing harsh, sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and sucking your skin as he palms at your breasts.

“Take these off,” he whispers, yanking at your shorts. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. He continues trailing kisses down your body, leaving bites and hickies in his wake. Pulling your panties to the side, Sam nuzzles against your sex, a moan escaping his lips. He drags his tongue along your slit, slurping away your juices as he grips his fingers in your thighs. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You bite your lip, resting your hand on his head and rolling your hips. God, he's gifted. It almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are. He pulls your clit between his lips, gently suckling. “Fuck,” you moan, voice fluttering. You lace your fingers through his hair, back arching as pleasure courses through you. His tongue pushes deep between your folds, lapping and sucking your tender flesh before plunging inside of you. Sam reaches a hand to your breast, teasing at your nipple with gentle pinches and tugs. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head as your orgasm takes over. He laps at your sex as you ride your release, keeping you grounded underneath his embrace. Sam raises up on his knees and plunges his fingers deep inside you, eyes never breaking from yours.

“Fuck, I'm glad we're finally doing this,” he says, a breathless chuckle escaping him. You silently nod, grabbing his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. He lifts your legs over his shoulders as he lines up with your entrance. You moan his name, closing your eyes as he eases into you, his thick cock stretching you more than you could have ever imagined. Sam grips your arms as he begins his rhythmic thrusting, holding you firm in your place. His eyes roll back as he's enveloped in your warmth, his hips slamming into you quicker. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, zips of electricity running up your spine.

“Oh my god, Sam!” you scream.

--

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes snap open, and you let out a puff of air, staring at yourself in the mirror. You reach your hands to touch the silver crown on your head, fingers ghosting along the flowing, white veil. Sam, with a furrowed brow, adjusts his tie in the mirror. 

“Look, I didn't mean anything bad was gonna happen,” Sam says, giving you a reassuring nod.

“...Huh?” you whisper, gaining a chuckle from him.

“You know, we got everything warded off,” he begins, giving your shoulder a rough pat. “And I'm pretty sure everyone here is strapped,” he adds, whirling around to the door as it flies open. “No, you can't see the bride until it's time!” Sam says, chasing off whoever just opened the door.

The bride.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, heart pounding in your chest. Today's the day and it feels like you didn't even know. God, why are you having cold feet right now of all times? He's the love of your life! You stare down at your beautiful, puffy dress, eyes landing on the sparkling ring on your finger. There's no telling where he got it from, but it's beautiful. A knock comes at the door, and you stand to your feet, smoothing your hands down your dress.

“Y-Yeah?” you yell, smiling as Charlie pokes her head into the room.

“We're ready for you – wow, look at her!” she cooes, a cheek to cheek grin on her face. Taking a deep breath, you snatch your bouquet up, allowing her to usher you to the wedding hall. You can hear the organ playing in the distance. Charlie says something to you, but your mind is a million miles away. Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest, and your legs are beginning to wobble. Oh god. Why is this so scary? You turn the corner, being met with familiar faces standing in the pews, there eyes on you. Most are adorned in jeans and flannels, and just as Sam said, lots of them are carrying guns. You spot a few people sprawling out sigils on the walls, but they stop when you begin your descent down the aisle. Your groom is facing away from you, just as tradition calls for.

“Lookin' like a doll,” Bobby whispers to you as you pass, his hands wrapped tightly around his shotgun. You giggle, smiling when you see Sam waving at you from the line of groomsmen. You pause before your soon to be husband, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. Sucking in a breath, he turns to you, a smile immediately breaking across his face.

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean grunts, gaining whoops and hollers from his groomsmen. You playfully smack him on the arm, grabbing his hand in yours. His green eyes shift wildly, a permanent smile glued to his face. The priest begins, but all you can focus on his Dean. He looks starstruck, like he's never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

“I do,” Dean breathes, tears prickling at his eyes. Seeing this makes your eyes gloss over, and when the priest asks you the same question, you can barely choke out 'I do'.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, closing his bible. Dean grabs you by the waist, dipping you down and pulling you into a passionate kiss. You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let's get to that honeymoon suite,” Dean whispers, shooting you a wink. You both run down the aisle hand in hand, waving at the sea of family and friends applauding you.

As you push through the door, the world goes dark. You turn to look at the church, but nothing is there, save for a fence and two brick walls.  

--

The alley is dark and groggy, with trash bags piled up on either side of you. 

Who's hand were you holding? You look down at the angel blade you're gripping, cocking an eyebrow. Of course. It ends here. You swagger deeper into the alley, your face falling into a frown as Castiel crawls away from you on hands and knees. His hand buckles underneath him, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The red exit sign on the wall is the only source of illumination, but you can clearly see the battered and bruised angel look at you. He wears a defiant scowl, an unsuccessful attempt at bravery.

“Times up Castiel,” you say, the venom in your voice catching you off guard. He...deserves this, as far as you can remember. You lace your fingers through his hair, forcing him up as you raise the blade above your head.

–

You stare up at the ceiling, your heart racing.

What. The. Hell.

As you lean up, your eyes train on that god damn sparkly notebook again.

Right. The trickster. It all felt so real, as if each and everything that happened was always like that. You shake away the thoughts, snatching up the notebook and staring around the room.

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, staring down at the new set of names.

FUCK MARRY KILL: John Winchester, Gadreel, Cain

[crystalirises]

The Final Answer (36 Question AU 4/13)

Fourth part.

IT’S YOU, DREAM

Thick dark smoke curled around the small room, gray ash twirling in the air as a bit of soot landed on the top of Fundy’s sensitive nose. He let out a soft sneeze, snapping out of the momentary euphoria that he had felt just a few seconds ago. He began to cough, waving a hand around his face as he backed away from the burning bucket. He could hear muffled wheezing beside him, a harrowing and horrible reminder that his estranged husband was still in the same house as him and that they just burnt their wedding rings, in a rusty old bucket. 

Fundy held back the urge to slam his head on the wall, regret at falling into an old habit racing through his veins. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He couldn’t believe Dream had made him do it. He gripped the sides of his head, pulling at his ginger strands. His hair would smell of smoke for days, and he hated the smell of smoke, hated the way that it would cling to everything. 

Smoke reminded him of an era of mistakes and misery. Dream had forced his hand. He knew. Of course he knew. Dream may be an idiot at times but he wasn’t stupid.

“Wow. That thing’s really roaring.” Fundy winced, gaze snapping towards the black that stained his fingertips. His hair now smelled of smoke and had ash residue on it. GREAT. Dream had adjusted his mask, a hand over his mouth as they both stared at what they had done. Guilt gnawed within his chest. Dream said they needed to move on, but as he glanced at the remains of their rings, he wasn’t sure if they made the right choice. 

“Not a single trace left, but that’s what fire does, right? We couldn’t have thrown them in a lake or buried them. You just had to choose this particular form of goodbye. You know, how I get around fire, Dream.” Fundy sniffed, a hollow ache in his chest. 

“I… I didn’t really think about that. I’m sorry.” Fundy held back a scoff. Dream didn’t think? Wow, that was a first, and it was probably a lie! Fundy looked at the bucket, watching as the flames began to die down. He felt a pang of hunger at the sight, a damning need to rekindle the fire once more. He had tossed the flint and steel into the bucket, their remains mixing in with the rings’. It seemed almost poetic. 

“Yeah, I… that’s what happens when you decide to toss both the flint and the steel! Is that smoke gonna be a problem?” Dream glanced down at the bucket, wincing as smoke continued to trail up from it.

“No. None of the fire alarms work.” He meant to fix them yesterday, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, terrified that his interference would feed the growing list of problems he already had. He walked to the window, gripping the metal handle in his hands as he pushed. The tell-tale sound of glass cracking and scattering to the ground made him groan. Great. Dream made a move towards him, but he held up a hand. 

“No. No. All of the shards fell outside… Which I’ll have to clean up tomorrow…” This was fine.

“Okay.” He watched as Dream nodded his head, the man’s hands clutching the edges of his lime-green sweater, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Fundy tore his gaze away, the awful and putrid smell of the room sneaking back into his senses. He needed to get rid of the smell, at least before Niki and Ranboo came back. He didn’t want to see their disappointed faces the moment they stepped in and smelt the strong scent of smoke, and he certainly didn’t want to explain why the house smelt as if it was on fire.

“Can you bring me the bucket?” Enough time had passed, right? The bucket was safe to touch, wasn’t it? He waited for the scream, the yelp of pain, but it didn’t come. The bucket came into view, scarred hands holding it up to him as if in offering. He gripped the metal edges, flinching as he felt the scorching heat spread down his fingertips. He backs off, ignoring the ache on his palms as he looked up into Dream’s mask. 

“How―? You know what? I don’t care. Just… Can you toss the bucket out of the window, please?” Fundy didn’t have time to wonder how the hell Dream was holding the bucket with his bare hands.

“Sure thing.” He watched as Dream turned to the window, the bucket in his hands as he looked out into the dark sky above. The rain had lulled to a slow drizzle, though Fundy knew the sand was still wet. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning the ashes of his old life in the morning. If he was lucky, they’ll mix into the sand and be lost to time forever. He took a cautious step towards Dream, noticing his hesitation as he refused to throw the bucket out. Was he trembling? 

“Are we scattering our old life into the wind?” Dream quirked a brow, glancing down at Fundy with amusement in his eyes. Not that Fundy could see it.

“It would be great not to have this place reek of smoke when Niki and Ranboo come back.” Fundy’s eyes narrowed into slits as Dream flinched at Ranboo’s name. Suspicious. Dream let out a quiet sigh, grasping the bucket tightly until his knuckles turned white. Then the bucket was gone, clanging against the ground as it was tossed out into the night. Fundy closed his eyes, collapsing to the floor as exhaustion seeped into his aching bones. They’d done it. But did it help? ‘Cause it didn’t feel like anything’s changed. 

“Thanks…” Fundy looked away, hugging his knees to his chest.

He felt a presence sit down beside him, the edges of their fingertips touching one another’s. Fundy wished he could lean his head on someone’s shoulders. He needed some semblance of comfort right now. Unfortunately, the only person within a mile radius just so happened to be the man who was his ex-husband. Fundy let out a low growl. He wished it were somebody else. Fuck, he’d rather have Schlatt haunt him for the rest of his life if it meant he’d never have to see Dream again. 

“How do you feel?” Dream didn’t miss the frown on Fundy’s face, the stiffness in the fox hybrid’s shoulders.

“Sad…” Fundy busied himself with his inventory, arranging and rearranging the few items he had. He could feel Dream’s heated gaze on the back of his head, an unrelenting force that pleaded with him to look back.  Fundy kept his attention on his inventory. It was a mess. He was a mess. 

“…and stupid.” Fundy let out an empty chuckle, shaking his head at his own admission.

“Me too.” He nodded along, though he doubted that. Dream never felt stupid. At least, he never admitted to being stupid. Even though he was. A nagging and chilling feeling tugged across his chest. A finality that left him breathless as he realized one crucial detail about this whole encounter.

“Particularly, because I just realized that you won’t be leaving this place anytime soon, right?” He began to tug at his ears, not missing the way Dream tried to reach out to grab his wrist. He was beginning to get irritated and if something didn’t change soon, he was going to start biting his own tail. 

“Fuck.” Fundy groaned, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“What do you mean?” Fundy stopped, choosing to run a hand through his disheveled and dirt-caked hair instead. He looked down at his nearly empty inventory, taking note of the yellow flowers he had taken from the small garden Niki had set up. On any other day, he would be eating his dinner at this particular time. New L’Manburg and the Essempy could destroy themselves for all he cared… but he should’ve known that Dream would drag him back. He could never truly run away from his problems, could he?

“You came over here with a purpose, right? You want me back, right? If there’s anything that I truly know about you, Dream, is that you’re persistent. You won’t be leaving until I go back with you, or forgive you, or…” Fundy trailed off, barely registering the fact that he had stood up from where he was sitting and was currently placing the bundle of yellow flowers on the table. His heart was hammering painfully in his chest, losing the words he had wanted to say. What did he want to say? 

“Hey… Batry, eat some flowers.” Fundy waved at the bat on the ceiling, smiling despite himself.

“I… I could leave.” The words hung over the air, the room turning colder as Fundy finally forced himself to turn around. He sucked in a breath as dazzling forest green eyes peered up at him with fondness. When was the last time Dream had taken off his mask in front of him? 

There were dark rings under the man’s eyes, his usual grin or smirk was gone, replaced by a frown that Fundy rarely ever saw. For once, Dream tore his gaze away, fixing it to the side as if that one particular piece of dirt was very intriguing to look at.

“Really?” He wasn’t hearing things, right? Dream said that, right? Fundy shook away his nervous thoughts. He needed to be sure. Was this some trick? Some new… reverse psychology gimmick the man made up?

“Yeah. If you want me to. Do you… want me to leave?”

“You’re… You’re actually serious?” He couldn’t believe it. He felt bamboozled, scammed even. It was that easy? Fundy blinked, wondering if he had accidentally knocked his head on something while getting up.

“Yes. Fundy, I wouldn’t―” The fur on his tail bristled as Dream paused, both of them knowing that ending that sentence was not a good idea. Fundy kept his breath steady. He could do this. He could tell him to leave, and they’d never see each other again. It was that simple. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it. WHY COULDN’T HE SAY IT? DAMMIT. He wrapped his arms around his chest, he needed time to think this through, but they didn’t have that time.

“I don’t know, Dream… I need to think.” He felt himself collapse onto the couch, his head a whirlwind of thoughts. It should be easy. All he needed to say was, ‘okay, get out and never come back into my life because if you do, I won’t hesitate to burn you alive.’ Simple, right? He groaned, placing his hands on his face. He didn’t have the time to think. After a few seconds, he came to a decision. He sat up, finding that Dream didn’t move a single inch. Probably didn’t even look at him as he threw his little fit. 

“Dream…”

“Yes? Do you want me to leave, Fundy?” Dream stood, his knees shaking despite the blank look in his eyes. Fundy couldn’t tell if he was nervous or if he was tired from sitting. He heard the thump of footsteps approach him, saw the shadow that blanketed his form. Dream was staring down at him, his porcelain mask in his hands as they both waited for Fundy’s response. Fundy stood up, heading towards the door of the living room. He had his answer. He just had to say it. 

“Or do you want to meet the real Dream?”

“I think it would be best if I accompanied you out of Drywaters territory.” Fundy opened the door, a draft of wind caressing his cheek as he stepped into the hallway. He waited for Dream who was putting his mask back on. Maybe he didn’t want Fundy to see his face. Good. Fundy didn’t want to see his face. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He tries not to hear the quiver in Dream’s voice as the man walked past him, pretending he didn’t see the way his shoulders were shaking. Fundy looked up towards his pet bat, Batry seemingly energized from the drama they had just bore witness to. They were living their best life. Good for them.

“Okay, Batry we’re stepping out, just for a second. Try not to tear the place apart.” Because Fundy might just lose it if he came back to scratches on the walls. He followed after Dream who was waiting at the front door, then a crack of thunder shook the house, causing them to jump. 

“Woah, did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Dream let out an empty chuckle as Fundy opened the door, the night wind hitting them full force as they went out of the house. It was dark, the lanterns Fundy had placed around the perimeter were out, the rain having damaged them. 

Great, another thing to add to his list of tasks. Fundy scowled, pushing forward even as the sand threatened to give way beneath him. Dream trailed after him slowly, as if he wanted to savor the moment. Well, Fundy wanted to go to bed. They both couldn’t have what they wanted.

“I can’t believe you came here. I can’t believe I have to do this.” Fundy never thought he’d ever be forced to escort Dream out of any place. Not Pogtopia. Not New L’Manburg. Not even Drywaters. Dream was never meant to find this place. He shouldn’t have ever found him, and how Dream even found him was a whole issue in and of itself. Fundy wished he could turn around and just… just… No. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his Dream. He could never do that. 

“I should have never entertained this. I knew that.”

“Why do you know that?” Fundy wished that Dream didn’t make it feel so easy, though. With every second that passed, he was beginning to lose the last threads of his patience. Fundy nearly tripped on a rock at the question, grumbling beneath his breath as they reached the border of Drywaters. 

This was where they parted. Dream should be off on his merry way now, but he didn’t make a move to leave. The palpable silence made it harder to think rationally. Dream wanted an answer. Fine! He’ll give him a damn answer!

“Because it’s pointless.” Fundy kicked at the air, willing that the sand on his boots would fall off. He watched as the clump of wet sand landed on top of Dream’s boots. That made him feel a bit better.

“Okay, it’s pointless. How is it pointless?”

“It’s pointless because…” Because you’ve hurt me too many times. Because we can’t fix this. Because you said you didn’t care about me at all. 

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a question. Is Dream your actual name?”

“Yes.” He nearly screams at the amused tone in Dream’s voice. Granted it was a ridiculous question… but could Dream blame him for being a bit cautious? Who knows what else Dream had lied about? Maybe those rumors that his real name was ‘Dre’ were true! Fundy shook his head, he needed answers. He needed so many answers and he wanted to ask so many questions. Could he leave it at this? Could he really let this man walk away without trying to understand? Fundy didn’t know. He really didn’t know.

“Did you marry me for some political reason?”

“No. Fundy―”

“Hmmmmmm… If I let you stay… I’m gonna see proof that you are who you say you are, and then what?”

“Then we get to know each other again.” Getting to fall in love all over again was left unsaid. Fundy picked at the edges of his sleeves. Could he bring himself to do it? He regretted that Dream had placed his mask back on, regretted that he said he didn’t want to see the man’s face. ‘Cause right now he just wanted to see Dream’s eyes. Was he hurt? Was he lying through his teeth? UGHHHHHHHHH. This was so difficult. 

“So… can we do the 36 questions? Do you want to do the 36 questions? We could answer them, Fundy.”

“Like a couple of strangers?! Hit reset?! Act like you didn’t lie to me this whole time?!”

“We don’t need to act like anything if you do the 36 questions with me, you’ll meet the real Dream―”

“I don’t have 36 questions, Dream! I have one important question. Why did you do it? Why?!”

“And that one question has a thousand answers. You’re… you’re asking me why I fell in love with you?” Fundy stepped back… was Dream crying? He could hear him sobbing. 

“I loved our old life, Fundy. That was me. That was the real me. Nice to meet you… Now… would you like to do the 36 questions with me?”

“That was you. That was all you?” Fundy kept his own tears unshed, they both didn’t need to cry right now. Guilt clawed at his heart. Was he being too harsh? Was he wrong? Fundy placed a hand on Dream’s shoulder. His hand felt as if it was burning. 

“You… you loved me? You actually loved me?”

“Yes. I still do, Fundy.” He felt Dream’s hand on top of his, a gesture that almost made him melt. He almost gave in right then and there, but he remembered what Dream had taken away from him. This was the man who ruined his country and led his father to his death. This was the tyrant who took one of his lives!

He pulled away just as quickly as he approached. 

“You’re confusing me. Can I really trust you? Should I trust you? Are you actually telling me the truth right now or am I just that gullible enough to believe you?”

“Okay, okay, okay. Wait. Wait. Let’s stay on task here, sta― Fundy.”

“What… What do you mean?”

“Fundy Wastaken-Soot. Answer me honestly.” Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. Fundy waited for the ball to drop. He felt nauseous. He wished the sand would swallow him whole. But… maybe the question wouldn’t be that bad. It certainly wasn’t going to ruin his already wrecked life. He felt the seconds tick by, almost as if Dream himself was hesitating to speak. Fundy wished he’d just leave… but did he really want that? 

“Right now, given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?”

Oh. OH. He did not. Fundy kept his hands on the ends of his sleeves, lest he do something he’ll deeply regret. 

“You’re trying to trick me.” Fundy let out a growl, his entire body tensing up as he realized what Dream just tried to do. He wanted one decent conversation. But no. Absolutely not, because fuck him. 

“You tried to trick me. Wow. I shouldn’t be surprised. This isn’t exactly the first time you’ve done that.”

“I just asked you a question.”

“No. You asked me the question. The first question of 36! It doesn’t matter I’m not answering it―”

“Why not?”

Fundy looked up into his ex-husband’s masked face. He was joking. He was actually joking. Why? WHY?! Fundy nearly screamed, rubbing his hands on his face. He wanted to resolve this. He really did. But Dream was making it really hard for him to keep his calm. 

“Wha― You know perfectly well why I don’t want to answer your question!”

“Because you don’t want me to tell the truth? Because you don’t want to find out the real me?” Dream moved closer, though his hands stayed tucked into his sweater pockets. Fundy edged away, realizing how close they had gotten to one another. He dug the heels of his feet into the sand, willing for some divine intervention to take him right then and there… which was ridiculous since… He kept his gaze on Dream. 

“Because you don’t want us to solve this? However it ends, I at least want us to try and work this out!”

“I…” Fundy sucked in a shaky breath. He began to walk away. He didn’t get that far before he felt a hand lightly grasp his wrist. He looked back, watching as Dream’s free hand reached up to pull his mask off his face. He sees the tear tracks that stained the man’s cheeks, mixing in with those beautiful freckles that Fundy adored so much. Dream’s eyes were nearly shut tight, those green eyes held so much pain in them. They were both suffering. They really were. 

“I… Dream… I’m not really sure… I don’t think I can…”

“Anyone in the world. Your house. Dinner.” Fundy wished he could disappear… because he already knew his answer to the question. But could he say it? 

“Get to know each other. Spill it all. Who would it be?”

“I don’t have to answer this.” He scratched at his shirt, hearing the rip of cloth as he tore through his sleeve. Dream winced, reaching out a hand before retracting it… at least he tried. Fundy took another long exhale. He could do this. Just… 36 questions. He only had to answer 36 Questions. 36 Questions. Simple. No. No. No. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this. 

“I really don’t have to answer this…”

“You’re already telling me.” He flinched. His answer was still the same as the one he had said on their first date. Oh, if he could build a time machine to tell his younger self of the misery his future held. He could avoid this. Maybe he would have run away sooner. 

“Who do you want over for dinner, Funds?”

“Technoblade.”

“Wrong. Who would it be, Fundy? Anyone in the world.” He felt Dream’s grip fall and he walked off. Oh, he really had to do this, didn’t he? He let out a chuckle, one that quickly evolved into manic laughter. One answer, but it meant something. It always meant something. He gripped his knees, letting the tears fall from his eyes. Fine. FINE! He’ll answer the fucking questions. His laughter turned into a guttural and anguished scream, echoing throughout the desolate badlands as he violently fell to his knees. 

“Fundy―!”

“I would have dinner with you, Dream. Okay?” He buried his face into his hands, scrambling away from those clingy hands that tried to reach down for him. Dream wanted his answer? Then he could have it. Fundy screamed out the words, his throat aching from the sudden outburst. He couldn’t remember the last time he screamed or shouted at someone. 

“If I could have anyone over, it would be you, Dream…”

Fundy trembled, “…as much as it pains me to say. I wish it were somebody else.” He’d even take Technoblade. 

“But given the choice of anyone in the world, the only person I'd want over for dinner is you.” Fundy bit his bottom lip, chest aching as his fingers began to tremble.

He sighed. His younger self had been so excited when Dream said yes. He hated dinners now… Dream ruined them for him. 

“Yes, I'd have dinner with you, Dream. So, I could ask questions, or maybe one question.” Those damning questions that had circled his mind. They had haunted him even as he founded Drywaters, 

“Who are you? And why were you living a lie?”

“It would probably end in a fight.” Dream wished it didn’t have to end like that. Not them. Not in that way.

“But once I knew the truth, the real truth, maybe I could stay strong…” Fundy knew it would end in a fight, or at least it would end with explosions. That’s how conflicts in this world ended. Their old life and relationship wouldn’t be the exception. Fundy just hoped that it’s not his country that gets destroyed. He could afford to lose a life… 

“And politely send you, Dream, out into the night. That'd be nice.”

He felt the hunger in his stomach. He really was hungry. 

“Yes, I would break bread with my husband who lied to my face.” He also wanted answers and maybe he could get both. Maybe. The world has never been kind to his needs before. 

“Because in my head I've been wondering, how he kept up the pace?” Had Fundy been so blinded that he allowed himself to love a man who could never do the same for him?

He gripped at his chest, at his bruised and broken heart. He danced to the tune of a madman for so long… He believed Dream for so long. He could never get those years back. 

“To live in a lie for so long, to string his husband along.” He looked up, the world a kaleidoscope of color as his tears ruined his vision. Still, he managed to find those familiar green eyes. 

“How in the hell could he think that was okay?” Fundy laughed, a bitter and horrible laugh that tore at Dream’s heartstrings.

He curled closer into himself, wiping his nose at his newly torn sleeve. The drizzle of rain had begun to seep into clothes, drenching him with their melancholic sorrow, 

“I'd choose dinner with you, Dream. Over Xisuma and over Awesamdude.” Dream nearly fell over, his eyes widening as the mention of those names. Fundy had heard of these people. They were legends in their own respective fields… but he’d choose Dream over them any day. 

“And even my own parents… Sally… Wilbur…” He’d choose Dream over anyone.

“I would die to dine with all four, but if I'm being real, and I want to be real.” Being real was all he had, and it was something Dream would never understand. Fundy knew what he was, and he owned it. He lived up to others’ expectations. 

“In a world full of people, the only person I'd want over for dinner is you.”

He wanted to please everyone… he tried to be happy. He wanted to be happy for once. 

“Yes, in a world full of people who all haven't hurt me…” He watched his home get destroyed over and over. He watched his grandfather kill his father in front of him. He watched the only family he’s ever known tear itself from the inside. 

“…the way that you hurt me the only person I'd want over for dinner is you.” He was pathetic.

“That's the truth.” He wished it wasn’t.

“That's the truth.” He didn’t want it to be.

He felt Dream’s arms wrap around him. He leaned into the touch. He was so pathetic. 

“That's the truth…”

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

prev / next

[agathaharknes]

Okay, hear me out: Yennaia as parents!! (Yennefer comes back from a risky assignment with an unknown artifact. Tissaia touches it and, without anyone else noticing, receives a vision of the future--a future where she and Yen are married and raising a family 👀)

I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LIKE 84 YEARS!!!!!!!! Also, I changed a tiny little thing that I think makes this So much better, so whoever you are, please don’t be mad!

Yennaia prompt: Yennaia as parents. (Yennefer comes back from an assignment with an unknown artefact. Tissaia touches it and, without anyone else noticing, receives a vision of the future- a future where she and Yennefer are married and raising a family.)

LINK TO ARCHIVEOFOUROWN IN THE REPLIES

Word count: 2.6k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

She rubbed her temples, a migraine working its way from the right side of her head to encompass it all. Eyeing through narrowed eyes the books sprawled around her desk, she belatedly noticed that some were threatening to fall off, almost making her chuckle, because no matter how much she might have changed since her conduit moment, Yennefer was still as messy as ever.

Tissaia sighed instead, leaning back into her chair, contemplating changing the contents of her pipe to something stronger than Kaedwenian tobacco, nevertheless, she was called back from her thoughts, just as she was about to summon the herbs, by a loud groan coming from the woman in front of her.

Who by the looks of her, wasn’t faring much better, with both hands clasped together as if in prayer, her forehead resting against them, black silky hair covering the rest of her face from view.

They had been at this for weeks, ever since the mage came back from an emergency call from Istredd, who had found only Gods knew what in those ancient ruins he studied as a saner person might their lover. And from the annoyed twist of her carmine lips and the crackling of chaos around her when the younger sorceress had portalled into her office, the boy had put up quite the fight to give it away to someone that wasn’t from the Council or the Chapter.

(Creating a way to erase memories might just be the Arch-mistress’ greatest achievement, not that anyone would ever know the author behind that particular spell.)

But neither could be trusted with the current political climate, after Sodden… well, everything had gone to shit after Sodden. The only good thing to come out of it being that Yennefer had decided to stay for the time being at Aretuza, then again not without imposing herself on Tissaia, of course, for the Rectoress now had a shadow that followed her everywhere except the laboratory.

Alas, Margarita had taken over her classes, since she was still recovering from the dimetirium, so her overwhelming amount of spare time had been spent trying to figure out what the golden ball in front of them was. A lost cause, probably, now that she considered it coldly.

Even so, hours and hours of hard work had borne no fruits. Nothing in her office, her mind or the immense library her school possessed had given them even clues.

Such an inconspicuous looking thing that it was… The most dangerous kind, if her five centuries alive had taught her anything.

It had slight cracks that looked intentional as if it was holding something on its insides of great importance, yet other than that, it wouldn’t look out of place in the workshop of a famous blacksmith. It certainly didn’t look like something found in an elven gravesite.

There had been moments when it had called to them, yes, to the Arch-mistress and her rebel. Distorted whispers, chants in Elder, beckoning them to touch it, still, they never did. That might just be suicide, considering the sheer power it exuded and after the battle with Nilfgaard, neither sorceress was keen on ending it, no matter how willing they had been on that hill.

‐

“It’s time to accept life has no more to give.”

‐

“You’re worth more than Nilfgaard could ever give you.”

‐

No, they didn’t need any more blood on their already soaked hands, thank you very much. That didn’t mean Destiny agreed with their passivity, though. Those gods-damned whispers. They hadn’t even had lunch!

Fingertips tinted white, Tissaia de Vries, resident Ice Queen, was actually considering throwing the sodding thing into the ocean, from her window office.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Really?” Said the violet-eyed mage and were the Arch-mistress in a better mood or her lungs not burning or exhaustion not weighing down on her like talking to Stregobor at length did, she might’ve listened to her conscious, to her control or just to reason because what she did next was shocking to both her and Yennefer.

She extended her bare hand as if possessed, ignoring the high-pitched wails of the younger mage who insisted she had only been joking, because what else was she supposed to do in this bloody hovel of a castle that was filled with cretins and hormonal teenagers?

The sorceress might have also noticed that her former pupil was just as willing to put herself in the line of fire for her as she had been on the battlefield.

They touched the metal. Together.

And their whole worlds were shaken to the core.

╌

Sitting up so fast she almost fell off the bed. A bed? Blue eyes opened to gentle sunlight coming from the window, the cold air hitting her bare skin, making goosebumps form on her ivory skin.

Looking down on herself she took notice that she wasn’t only naked but on a foreign bed, one that resembled the one in- Oh, fuck.

Cautiously she looked to the person next to her, holding the sheet against her bosom, trying to recover whatever she could of her destroyed modesty. The sight that met her was red, full, lips, her beautiful mouth open so wide her jaw might be dislocated, violet eyes and equally bare olive skin.

Tissaia and Yennefer both screamed.

The younger mage put space between them by jumping out of the bed and thus revealing herself completely to the brunette, who just responded by covering her petite form with the sheets. Hiding in a makeshift cocoon, her hands came up to cover her eyes like a toddler, only to find a wedding band on her ring finger, falling down the mattress, on her arse, accidentally, in her fright.

About to scream some more the pair were startled by a tentative knocking on the door and a child’s preoccupied voice, “Mama, Mummy, why are you screaming? You promised we could sleep in since aunt Rita almost burned down the kitchen yesterday!”

She could perfectly see the pout of the baby girl in her mind’s eyes, the fantasy upsetting her beyond belief, a visceral reaction she had only ever had with one girl out of the dozens she had taught. “It was a bat, it came through the window!” Tissaia responded on reflex, the words out of her mouth before she knew it.

The raven-haired mage followed suit, not knowing what was happening, just that she had the urge to make that tone of hers go away as fast as she could, “We’ll make it up to you! What about pancakes, sweetheart?” Covering her mouth with her hands, she made the same discovery that had the mighty Rectoress of Aretuza reacting like Fringilla was about to throw the powder at her face again.

“Okay! I’ll go tell Duchess!” And with that the girl, who they somehow knew was four and feasted on those pastries as King Foltest had done on wine, was gone, leaving two gobsmacked mages behind. King Foltest was dead.

“Whatever in fuck’s name happened?” Hissed the Arch-Mistress, crawling up to the bed and covering herself with one of the quilts she took from it. She threw with her free hand another one to Yennefer’s face, which the younger mage immediately wrapped around herself like a towel.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one that touched the bloody artefact.” Walking to the wardrobe she pulled out a dress, glaring at the offensive garment for being a plain thing that she would have never in her right mind spent her coin in. Taking, as well, from one of the drawers a shirt and a skirt that could only belong to Tissaia, since they were so small, passing the clothing to the brunette and avoiding her eyes. “And like an idiot, I tried to stop you.”

She made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door closed. “Balance and control, my arse!” After throwing a pillow at the closed door, the brunette put on the outfit, frowning at her reflection in the mirror whilst simultaneously doing her hair up in her normal bun, almost hyperventilating when she noticed that her necklace was nowhere to be seen.

Breathing as deeply and slowly as possible, she went looking for some footwear and found worn boots by what the Arch-mistress assumed was her part of the bed, fastening the shoelaces with her teeth gritted and her hands shaking with electricity. Gods, she knew looked like a bloody peasant and that the pendant was gone and that she was now probably married with a child, but burning the house down with lightning wasn’t going to help matters at all.

Tissaia’s mind had never been this troubled as when she slid down the wall, her head resting against her knees, her arms hugging them. The brunette had dreamed about something like this, for years, decades even, but that was all she let herself have, never thinking she could get over the hurt of allowing herself to embrace it, knowing it was impossible.

Flashbacks assaulted her then, blood coming from her palms as she dug her nails in the skin. The coup on Thanned, Princess Cirilla and the witcher Geralt, the Lodge of Sorceresses and the end of the conflict and then… peace. A wedding. A gift. A baby. Her daughter. Their daughter.

Her whole frame shook, dry sobs coming from her lungs. Teeth biting down on her wounded hand to not make a sound. The grief. The loss. The happiness. The love. It was unbearable and still the best that had ever happened to her. Still a fabricated fantasy.

Inside the laboratory, her violet eyes filled with tears, letting some of them, the most stubborn, fall. This was all she had ever wanted, but not like this. Gods, not like this. From what little she could see they were happy, so happy in this reality and yet she knew it would slip from her fingers like water the moment that fucking ball decided to take this from her.

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to take comfort in applying the green eyeshadow on her eyelids, the lipstick on her lips, as a thousand memories fought for the spotlight in her mind. Gripping the brush so hard she broke it when her clever mind managed to solve the riddle of this existence.

They were in the future.

Racing to the door she opened it with magic, almost tripping in her haste to get to her wife. Stopping dead in her tracks when she saw what Tissaia had been reduced to.

Her thoughts unguarded for the first time she could remember, flowing in the stream of chaos that was always present around her. There were so many things to decipher she just stood still for a few minutes and then her heart broke. The ocean inside her was killing her. “Oh.” She whispered.

“Tissaia.” Yennefer knelt in front of her, taking her hands and healing the half-moon cuts in her palms. Blue eyes fluttering open, the light in them belonging to a broken woman, to a dead one. As she almost made herself. Gods, please, no. Anything but that. Anything. Even so, it was the truth and she was thankful for the knowledge in a way, for the opportunity to stop her, to hide her from the world that would come to want her head on a pike.

She hugged her, burying her face in the crook of her neck, smelling in the scent of her. “Please.” When that wasn’t enough, the younger sorceress manoeuvred them so the woman was on her lap, her chin on the crown of her head, rocking her back and forth, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, until the Arch-mistress was able to pull herself back together somewhat.

Her hand went to her cheek, her thumb caressing her reverently, tears leaking down blue orbs, but not for the reason the mage would’ve thought. “I’ve never wanted anything- I wish with every fibre of my being this was real.” Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she rested her forehead against the brunette’s. Yennefer had never been so grateful for thought transference.

Their eyes opened. Full of love, full of life. This was right. All their sacrifices were worth it, would be, knowing where the path ended, knowing the story ended and began again with them. A decade from where they left, together in that office studying the artefact and the wait couldn’t matter less when this was the endgame.

The door opened, and their gazes landed on a child, half dragging, half carrying a white cat into the room, her white shift barely covering her feet and Tissaia gasped, the familiar tingling in her head warning her of a conduit moment, her daughter’s. “Everything felt so wrong.” The child whimpered and getting off Yennefer as fast as she could she scooped her baby into her arms, Duchess landing gracefully on the floor, looking at the three of them suspiciously.

“It’s fine. Everything is fine now.” The sorceress whispered, blue meeting violet, her fingers moving one strand of chestnut hair behind her tiny ear. Slowly turning to the younger mage, who had clapped to get their attention, a choked sound leaving her throat when she realised just how much like them the toddler looked.

Controlling herself and smiling, the raven-haired mage said, “Now, who wants blueberry pancakes, with lots of honey?” The cat mewed, making the little girl giggle and she knew instantly, who she had taken the sound of her laughter from and putting her olive hand on Tissaia’s, Yennefer guided them down to the kitchen.

╌

She heaved, her hand against her chest, against the coolness of the pendant and she saw the younger mage was the same.

A vision. A gift.

The Arch-mistress tackled the raven-haired sorceress, kissing her for all she was worth. Kissing her again and again, until their bodies protested the magical strain they had just endured, loudly enough.

Frowning, when helping her up instead of happiness she sensed in her aura a deep paranoia. “Darling?” Not meeting her eyes, she answered, fiddling with the cloth of her elaborate skirt, but not letting go of the hand that held hers.

“Yes?” It came in a breathless whisper.

Tissaia grabbed her chin, frowning. “What’s the matter?” She nudged her consciousness with her own, finding steel doors firmly locked, still, she persisted, until she was sure the answer was ready to leave her tongue.

“Now that you know what will happen, will you… will you stop the coup?” ‘Will you change fate? Knowing the price of keeping the Brotherhood?’ went unsaid. Destiny was a fickle, wilful thing and they knew this better than most people. A give and a take, as the still Rectoress had restlessly engrained into her pupils.

The brunette laughed, reminding her of what was awaiting them if they dared. “Of course not.” Kissing Yennefer again to shut her up, she continued, “No. Every great empire has fallen. Every great empire will. I know this. I always have.”

Never in her life had she been this openly honest, vulnerable. She couldn’t bring herself to care. “It’ll hurt me, it might break me, to see what I created in ashes, but if I have to choose… my choice will always be you, Yennefer, it will always be our baby.”

Tears fell from her eyes again, this time the Arch-mistress cleaning them. “My choice will always be the both of you, too. When the world falls into the darkness, which we know it will, please remember I love you.”

“I promise.” She muttered.

[pixiegrl]

You’re Just a Daydream Away

Ashton and Luke get to enjoy date night:

So, I started this fic because I was telling @lifewasradical​ a funny story about myself and she said you should put it into a fic. The fic then ran away from me and here we are. Enjoy!

On ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894160

It’s date night. Ashton’s never been more thrilled for date night than he is right now. They’re in the sweet spot of the season, between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s when Luke’s at his softest, hyped for the holidays and decorating, getting to go to Australia to see their families. He’s softer this year, excited to spend the time wedding planning with his mother and go around to see different venues and caterers and flower shopping. They’ve started suit shopping in California, but Ashton knows that while Luke’s happy to do it and excited, he’s a little sad he won’t be able to wear a dress. Ashton’s planned a whole surprise for Luke, talked Calum into becoming an ordained minister, so that they can have a smaller ceremony, just the four of them, so Luke can wear a dress, be himself, just for them, for Ashton, for himself. Ashton’s gotten most of the details sorted out, plans to give it to Luke as a Christmas gift, just to see his eyes light up and hear his laughter.

Which leads them back to here on date night. It’s one of the last chances Luke and Ashton will get to have with just each other, some time alone to themselves. They’re still coming off the high of their confessions after the foursome they’d had with Michael and Calum. Ashton’s still riding high, drunk on Luke’s love, his confirmation that he loves Ashton, only wants to be with Ashton. Wonderful, golden, starshine Luke loves Ashton. Reasonably, Ashton knows that Luke loves him, but it makes Ashton giddy to have the confirmation of it. To know that he’s enough for Luke. Ashton’s pleased, that even though he has to share every other part of Luke with the world, he gets this Luke, quiet, brilliant Luke, wrapped up in his florals and glitter and sunlight, all to himself. That Luke is still his, even after all this time.

Ashton’s drunk on it, captivated by Luke, staring at him openly and starry eyed in the middle of the restaurant. Luke’s laughing at something, nose scrunched up, dimples evident on his cheek as he tells the story, waving his hand around. His curls are loose and wild around his face, broken from the hold of hairspray the more Luke drinks, the less restricted he gets. He’s glowing in the lowlights of the restaurant, cheeks sparkling with makeup where they catch the light, complimenting the pink glitter of his eyeshadow. His lips are still slightly pink from his lipstick, most of it now on the rim of his wine glass, which has in turn stained his lips a slight red in the center. He’s wearing a beautiful white gown, flowing tulle and sweetheart neckline, covered in colorful embroidery flowers, flowy off the shoulder sleeves, collarbones shimmering with glitter. Ashton’s been captivated by the line of his necklace, delicate gold chain trailing down his chest, the small gold heart necklace sitting perfectly in the hollow of his throat. He’s a dream, a fantasy, glowing and shining. Like this, he’s Aphrodite, beautiful and regal and lovely. Ashton’s never been more in love then he is in this moment, caught in Luke’s orbit, his warmth.

“Ash, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Luke says, tone light and teasing, nudging his heel against Ashton’s leg. Ashton startles, blushing when he makes eye contact with Luke. Luke laughs again, loud and snorting, grabbing onto Ashton’s hand. Ashton squeezes his hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ve been trying but you’re wearing glitter, Lu. With that top. How am I expected to concentrate on anything when you look like this?”

“Like what?”

“Ethereal. Dreamy. Regal,” Ashton trails off, blushing when Luke’s smile softens.

“No by all means, keep going. Who am I to stop you from your declarations of love?”

“Brat. If I keep stroking your ego, you’ll be insufferable.”

“But darling, I already am,” Luke coos, batting his eyelashes. Ashton laughs, drawing the attention of the other patrons, but he can’t be bothered to care. Not when Luke’s whole face is full of open, fond devotion. Not when Ashton’s so in love, it makes his whole chest ache. He wants to kiss Luke so badly, can’t contain himself, so he leans over the table and presses a quick kiss to Luke’s lips. When he pulls back, Luke is flushed red, barely containing the excited smile on his face.

“Tease. How am I supposed to wait now?” Luke says fondly when Asthon sits back down, goes back to eating his meal. 

“Well, you’ll just have to wait a little longer. I’ve heard this place makes a wonderful Tiramisu and I know how much you like sweets,” Ashton says, aiming for casual, like he didn’t pick a restaurant for date night based on their dessert menu, what they offered, what would be the best thing for Luke’s notorious sweet tooth. He’s good at hiding it, pretending he doesn’t like them, insists that he can’t because he has to look a certain way, maintain a specific public image, but Ashton knows Luke. Knows all his favorite desserts, knows that he likes to always have at least 2 candy options in their house at all times, knows that Luke eats flavored chocolate when he’s sad, milk chocolate, particularly Reese’s, when he’s happy, dark chocolate when he’s at his most content, gummies when he’s drunk. Knows Luke won’t argue with him about dessert during a holiday season in between tours, when he’s soft and happy and cares less about what the public thinks of him and cares more about being content and spending time with Ashton. 

Ashton’s proven right of course, when he sees Luke’s eyes light up at the mention of dessert, doesn’t miss the way he rushes to flag down a waiter, gets Ashton to order dessert and coffee, gazing fondly at Ashton the whole time, bumping their feet together under the table, the fabric flowers on Luke’s heels brushing against Ashton’s suit pants.

“Now who’s being a tease,” Ashton says as soon as the waiter leaves. Luke laughs, head tilted back, exposing his long neck, glittering in the light.

“I love you,” Luke says, voice soft and quiet, locking eyes with Ashton. Ashton smiles back, reaching over and grabbing Luke’s left hand, rubbing his thumb over the engagement ring.

“I love you. I’m so lucky to have you, that you picked me. Luke Hemmings, with the world at his feet, pretty golden boy lead singer, picked me.”

“Me? What about you? You’re Ashton Irwin, coolest drummer of all time, everyone desperate for your attention and time and you picked me over everyone else,” Luke says. Ashton knows it’s pointless to argue with Luke about who’s luckier to have the other, instead drawing him in for a kiss, taking off the last of Luke’s pretty pink lipstick, sticky and smeared. Luke smiles into the kiss, humming lightly. Ashton pulls back before Luke can push anything further, tolerating Luke’s huff and faux pout that dissolves when Ashton goes back to rubbing his thumb over Luke’s ring, over his pulse point on his wrist.

“Maybe we’re just too cool for each other,” Ashton says. Luke laughs, smile fading into something smaller and private, fond, as he stares at Ashton over the table. It’s nice, seeing Luke like this, unafraid to be himself in public. It’s taken a bit, getting Luke to the point where he’s comfortable wearing dressing and lingerie in public, in a way that getting him to wear makeup wasn’t. This Luke though...this Luke might be Ashton’s favorite. Happy and content, shining brightly. Luke is insistent on keeping his two images separate, lead singer Luke who dresses more masculine and private Luke, willing to go into public in dresses where he thinks he’ll blend in, but Ashton thinks he might prefer private Luke. But Asthon loves any version of Luke, as long as he gets to have Luke.

Luke practically squeals when the waiter brings the tiramisu, covered in powder and cream, looking sweet and rich. Ashton knows he’s going to lose half the cake to Luke, doesn’t mind at all if it means he gets to see Luke’s bright smile as he takes the first bite, moaning a little at the taste. Ashton doesn’t have any strong feelings for sweets, but seeing how happy they make Luke makes him happy. They enjoy the rest of their dessert in peace, Ashton sipping his coffee and watching Luke savor the cake, leaning across the table to feed Ashton little bites of it.

They finally finish, Ashton flagging the waiter down for the check while Luke giggles across from him, bumping his foot into Ashton’s leg. Ashton ushers Luke out of the restaurant, one hand on the small of Luke’s back, pleased when Luke leans into the touch all the way out to the car. Luke slides easily into the passenger seat, immediately putting a hand on Ashton’s thigh once he’s sitting in the driver seat. Ashton puts his hand over Luke’s, interlocking their fingers on the drive home. Luke’s humming softly under his breath, staring out the windshield.

He doesn’t have to wait long to get his hands on Luke once they get home. They’ve barely crossed the threshold of their home before Luke’s tugging Ashton into a kiss, pressing himself back against the door and pulling Ashton into him. Ashton goes willingly, pressing kisses to Luke’s lips and neck while Luke giggles, tipsy, tilting his head back to give Ashton more access to his neck.

Ashton gets his hands up Luke’s skirt, letting it fall open around the slit in the side, getting his hands under Luke’s thighs. He can feel the bands of the shoe wrapping, trailing all the way up Luke’s thighs. Luke gasps when Ashton touches the sensitive part of Luke’s thigh, along the back of his knee, getting one leg up and wrapping it around Ashton’s leg. Ashton takes it for the invitation that it is, getting his hands securely under Luke’s thighs and lifting him up. Luke giggles, letting out a small shriek, wrapping his legs around Ashton’s waist and squeezing. Ashton laughs, clasping his hands under Lukes thighs and smiling up at him. Luke gazes down at him, smiling softly. His curls frame his face perfectly, skin still sparkling and glittery. He’s the sun, Apollo, golden and bright, the center of Ashton’s universe. 

Luke giggles again, running one hand through the back of Ashton’s curls, leaning down to kiss him. 

“We should go to bed,” Ashton says, making no move to actually leave the positions they’re in, nipping at Luke’s neck. Luke smiles fondly.

“Maybe I’m just content to stay right here,” Luke says, leaning back to rest his head against the door. Ashton laughs, nuzzling into Luke’s neck. 

“The day you stop being a diva and let me fuck you somewhere that isn’t a bed is when the world will end.” 

Luke huffs in mock offense, smacking Ashton lightly. He immediately pulls Ashton back in for a kiss, taking the chance to tug lightly on Ashton’s hair. 

“Take me to bed,” Luke murmurs, digging his heels into Ashton, skirt falling open more. Ashton squeezes at Luke’s thighs, hoisting him a little higher and taking a step back from the door. Luke laughs, bright and electric, burying his face into Ashton’s neck and pressing kisses to it. 

Ashton manages to get them up the stairs in one piece, kicking the door open and carrying Luke in. Ashton catches a glimpse of their reflections in the vanity mirror, Luke’s shimmer, curls bouncing, Ashton’s hands on Luke’s thighs. Ashton has an idea, crossing the room in a few strides. 

Ashton hoists Luke up, setting him on the edge of the vanity. Luke laughs, high pitched and breathless, delighted, digging his fingers into Ashton’s shoulder, pressing his heels into Ashton. Ashton grins, pressing kisses to Luke’s collarbone, fitting his hands under Luke’s skirt, miles and miles of white tulle and embroidery flowers, to squeeze his thighs. Ashton takes one hand off Luke, and makes to move some of Luke’s bottles and makeup and trinkets off the vanity, clear room so he can get a better grip on Luke.

“What are you doing?” Luke shrieks, pulling back suddenly, smacking Ashton. Ashton startles, looking at Luke. There’s barely contained annoyance on his face, hand of Ashton’s wrist, stilling him. 

“I’m moving your things.”

“Not like that you’re not.”

“Like what?”

“Just swiping them off the vanity! This is expensive makeup! Jewelry! The bottles are glass! You can’t just push them on the floor they’ll break!” Luke insists, voice high pitched and huffy. Ashton rolls his eyes.

“Well, what do you want me to do then?”

“If you’re so determined to be on the vanity, you have to take each piece off and put it somewhere safe.”

“Are you...are you serious?” Ashton asks. He knows Luke can be a diva, but this is ridiculous. 

“I can just leave,” Luke says, pretending to detangle himself from Ashton and hop off the vanity.

“Not on your life, you brat,” Ashton says, grinning, pulling Luke back into a kiss. Luke giggles, trading kisses with Ashton. Ashton trails his hands up Luke’s calves and thighs, running his hands over the straps of Luke’s heels, going all the way up his legs, covered in small fabric rose buds. 

Luke pulls back, giving Ashton his usual big doe eyes. 

“What?” 

“The vanity Ash,” Luke says sweetly. 

“Maybe I don’t want to now since you’re going to make me work for it.”

“Liar,” Luke teases, pressing a kiss to Ashton’s cheek. Ashton sighs, pretending to be put out. Luke giggles, perched on the edge of the vanity, resting his heels on the bench of the vanity. It gives a good angle of his legs, making them look long and lean, covered in the shoe lacing and flowers. Luke turns his head, propping his chin and on his shoulder and smiling at Ashton.

“Well. Get to it,” He says, arranging his skirt, so it falls open around his legs, giving Ashton a view of the pink lacy panties he’s wearing.

“Tease,” Ashton huffs, but turns to the dresser, determined to stay true to his word. Carefully, he starts to pick up each container of eyeshadow, of blush and highlighter, all of the tubes of Luke’s lipsticks, gathering them all up and turning to the dresser, dumping them onto the surface. Luke still huffs in mock outrage, but doesn’t say anything as he watches Ashton move each piece over. He gathers up each bottle of perfume, placing them next to the makeup. The jewelry is easier, picking up the box trying to fit it into what little space they have. 

Satisfied that he’s cleared the vanity, Ashton turns back to Luke, “There. All cleaned.”

“Well maybe I’m tired now. Maybe I just wanna go to bed,” Luke says, teasing smile on his face.

Ashton rolls his eyes, “No you’re not you diva. You made me clean the whole thing for you. The least you can do is kiss me for my effort.”

Luke laughs, reaching an arm out, pulling Ashton into him when he gets close enough, pressing a kiss to his lips. Ashton hums into the kiss, running his hands up the back of Luke’s legs, pushing him further onto the vanity. Luke giggles, wrapping his legs around Ashton’s waist and squeezing him slightly, pulling him in closer. Ashton pushes the layers of tulle aside, getting his hands under the skirt and finally brushes his fingers over the edge of Luke’s lacy panties. Luke whines, arching into the touch, pressing himself to Ashton. 

“Ash, please,” Luke whines, squirming under Ashton’s touch. Ashton gets his hand into Luke’s panites, wrapping it around his dick, and rubbing his thumb over the head. Luke whines, burying his face into Ashton’s neck and pressing kisses to the skin there. Ashton grins, continuing to work his hand on Luke’s dick, listening to Luke pant in his ear.

“Wait, Ash stop,” Luke says suddenly, getting his hand around Ashton’s wrist. Ashton stops, pulling back slightly, putting space between him and Luke, giving them both a chance to breathe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“I don’t...I don’t think I want to tonight. It’s dumb because we’re like here, but I think I just wanna get into bed with you and cuddle,” Luke says, blushing, glancing away from Ashton.

“Luke I just moved all your shit. You couldn’t have told me before I moved everything. Now I have to put it all back. You’re lucky you’re cute,” Ashton huffs, kissing the top of Luke’s head. Luke melts a little into the kiss, humming.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, of course not love. I just want you to be happy that’s all. Do you wanna shower first and then get into bed?”

Luke hums and nods. Ashton smiles, kissing Luke’s temple this time, taking a step back.

“Come on, I’ll heat the shower up if you wanna get out of your dress and get our pajamas,” Ashton holds a hand out to Luke, helping him step off the dresser, get his balance. Once he’s steady, Ashton lets go, makes his way to the bathroom.

“Hey Ashton,” Luke calls. Ashton turns, glancing back at Luke, drinking in the sight of him in the middle of their room.

“Yeah Luke?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now change so we can shower. If you take too long, I’m going to start without you.”

Luke huffs and rolls his eyes, but blows Ashton a kiss before he leaves the room. Ashton pretends to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart, grinning when Luke’s face lights up. Yeah, Ashton really does love Luke.

[littlespoonevan]

"Everything’s going to be fine." For Ian and Mickey?

ever since mickey looked so stressed!!! in 10x11 i decided he really deserved a hug so that’s what he’s getting!!! bc as much as i love their kisses, their hugs are so so good and have been severely lacking this season. so here’s 800 words of them hugging and mickey getting the comfort he Deserves xo

*

Mickey is stressed.

Ian is very aware he’s stressed and has thereforebeen exercising more patience than he’s possessed in the last decade ever sincethe wedding planning started. He’d hoped things would’ve improved a bit afterhe’d organised the soloist and managed to successfully remind Mickey that theirwedding was supposed to be about themand that Terry Milkovich could go die in a ditch for all his opinion fuckingmattered.

But, well, he guesses it’s hard to remember that whenTerry is an ever-looming threat, seemingly hell-bent on looking for every wayhe can to fuck this up for them.

They’re just home from a disastrous meeting with thebakery after someone apparentlychanged their order from carrot cake to a sponge cake with peanut filling. Apeanut filling that Ian is very much allergic to.

And Ian honestly wants nothing more than to crash onthe couch for the rest of the night, hoping he can coax Mickey down from histirade with beer and lingering kisses. He limps through the living room, makinga beeline for the kitchen to put a beer in Mickey’s hand before he decides tograb the bat instead and go on the hunt for his dad.

He’s just about to pass through the threshold to thekitchen when Mickey stops him.

“Ian.”

Mickey’s voice cracks and Mickey’s voice never cracks– at least, he never lets it if he can help it. Ian turns around slowly andMickey’s still standing just inside the door by the foot of the stairs with ahelpless expression on his face and a shine in his eyes that Ian never wants tofucking see.

In an instant he forgets all about the beer, marchingstraight back over to Mickey and pulling him into a crushing hug.

Mickey releases a shaky breath as soon as Ian’s armscome around him and he sinks into Ian’s hold, face finding the crook of Ian’sneck. Ian, for his part, keeps one arm firm around his back and sweeps hisother hand across Mickey’s shoulder blades before letting his fingers trail up throughMickey’s hair.

“I’m so fucking sick of him trying to take this awayfrom me,” Mickey mutters after a minute and there’s anger there but it’sovershadowed by the resigned hurt in his voice.

“Hey,” Ian says soothingly, pulling back a fractionto meet Mickey’s eyes. “Everything’s going to be alright. He won’t win,” hepromises, pressing his forehead against Mickey’s like he can force thereassurance into his head.

“Every fuckin’ time,” Mickey says, brow furrowing infrustration. “Every fucking time things get better for us he tries to ruin itand I’m so-“

“I know,” Ian replies, bringing his hand up to cupthe side of Mickey’s neck. He feels Mickey relax infinitesimally under histouch when he starts tracing his thumb along his jaw. “But Mick, I don’t give afuck what he does, alright? I’ll marry you in my backyard with Liam officiatingit. With no food or booze. Nothin’ but a bunch of gold and white chiavarichairs surrounding us. I don’t care.”

Mickey lets out a reluctant puff of laughter at thatand Ian feels himself smile in return.

“If you think I’m getting married in your nastylookin’ backyard you got another thing coming,” Mickey tells him, voice lackingall his usual bite but he seems better, at least. Calmer.

“Noted,” Ian replies with a grin before squeezingMickey’s shoulder to get him to meet his eyes. “I mean it,” he adds seriously. “He’snot gonna win.”

Mickey offers him a half-shrug, fingers closingaround the lapel of Ian’s jacket and eyes fixed on his ring. “Just feels likemight right now.”

“Hey,” Ian murmurs, forcing Mickey’s gaze up onceagain. “As long as I get to marry you, he won’t.” He pushes forward a fewinches then, punctuating his promise with a kiss to Mickey’s cheekbone andresting their temples against one another. “And as a wedding present to you I willgladly violate my probation and go put a bullet between his eyeballs as soon aswe say, “I do.””

Mickey huffs a laugh, leaning back to regard him witha wry smile. “Save the sweet talk for your vows, Gallagher.”

Ian bites back a smile, offering him a casual shrug. “Justwanted to give you a preview.”

Mickey’s mouth widens into a real grin and he pullsIan into him again, hugging him close. Ian winds his arms around him, findingtheir earlier position like it’s second nature, and kisses the closest part ofhim he can reach.

“Love you,” Mickey mumbles a moment later, mouthpressed against his shoulder.

“Love you too,” Ian whispers.

Terry can try and take away whatever the fuck hewants. Because this – the way they fall into each other so comfortably, with somuch familiarity after all these years. This isn’t ever gonna go away.

*