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pyode-luar-ke · 2 years ago

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carnation | part i | poly!yautja x reader

A/N: this is sooooo self-indulgent, i almost didn’t post lol. but it turned out really good, and i’m proud of it so fuck it, y’know? also, i take sooooo many creative liberties with yautja lore and canon, so if anything like... doesn’t make sense, lmk and i’ll try to clarify LOL 💀

i have part 2 outlined, and it’s probs not gonna be as long as this one, so it should be out soonish. 💕

summary: you have a baby with your mates.

word count: 7,005

content: 18+, smut, fem!afab!reader, polyamorous relationship (F/M/M/M/M/M) (good lord lmao), reverse harem, pregnancy, mention of abortion, lactation, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, body image issues, a whole lotta love, public sex, voyeurism

part ii → (out now!!)

—

No one really anticipated you getting pregnant. Not really.

Sure, it was a possibility, but an incredibly improbable one. Human and Yautja DNA held some fundamental differences, in spite of being surprisingly similar in some regards. Thus, if the laws of biology and physiology were to be true, it dictated that procreation was exceedingly rare, if not entirely impossible to achieve.

Yet, here you were, against the odds, a testament to the universe’s principle of: If there is a will, there is a way.

—

Bhu’kei goes completely silent, not even a stray whicker or growl escapes him. He’s deathly still too, his only movement coming from his clawed fingertips as he taps at his gauntlet, again. This is enough to notify you without words that he’s rerunning the pregnancy test, confirmed when a green light scans over your midsection.

A part of you wants to stop him, to sit up and place a palm on his black-scaled arm, to say “It’s true, Bhu’kei, and it’s okay!”— but you don’t. There’s a small part of you that still reels from disbelief, that wants to recoil in shock and gasp, “It’s not possible!”

A small beep echoes in the dead quiet yurt, and Bhu’kei is still silent. And then he meets your gaze, the expression in his eyes paradoxically unreadable and completely decipherable. He looks apologetic, almost— like he’s waiting for the gravity of the situation to dawn on you, for you to realize just how rare and dangerous and life-threatening this is for you.

Yautja females are larger than their male counterparts; taller, more muscled, and sometimes even stronger. They are built to withstand the 12-month gestation of a Yautja pup, and the entirety of labor and delivery, with ease— an evolutionary gift bestowed upon them due to the fact that most approach childbirth completely alone.

Your disbelief morphs into raw terror— How the Hell do you expect your body to survive this?— and as quickly as that occurs, the raw terror morphs into absolute elation— Well, damn it, you’ll sure try. A smile so big and bright— one you didn’t even know you were capable of doing— splits across your face before you can stop it.

“I’m pregnant!”

—

Announcing your pregnancy to the rest of the camp was initially met with some pushback. Ap-tui, for one, argued that an oomani-di carrying a Yautja pup would be detrimental at best and fatal at worst. True to his blunt nature, he encouraged you to terminate the pregnancy, which probably should have upset you more than it did, but you saw his point.

You had considered abortion, but the thought was fleeting. Despite the potential (and possibly fatal) consequences of carrying a Yautja pup, you rationalized that due to the little to no information on interspecies breeding between humans and Yautja, that your pregnancy was somewhat of a miracle of nature.

Yautja document their history, they transcribe what they learn and all their knowledge about other planets and species and races into databases accessible to all. They have been hunting humans (a morbid thought to you, but one you’ve learned to reconcile with) for hundreds of years, ever since Earth made a blip on their radars.

There is nothing on interspecies breeding. It simply hasn’t happened yet.

That thought partly fueled your decision to keep the baby. More so, however, you wanted the pup— Children were always a desire of yours, and with the development of gaining a handful of Yautja males as your significant others, you had thought the dream had turned to complete fantasy.

Not anymore, you finally got your wish, and you wanted to see it play out, to be the first. Not so much in a selfish, glorifying way— But to stick the finger to the universe and say “Look what love can do.”

Your decision may have also been influenced by your very human strain of curiosity— Something that Van’chaa once told you Yautja lacked in spades.

So, with your mind dead-set on growing that fetus inside you, you shook your head and said, “No, I’m keeping it. It’s my pup.”

Ap-tui was not pleased with your response. Nor was Van’chaa and Th’chi. However, they did not try to press you further. Bhu’kei had already told them that while yes, it was dangerous; It was clearly a risk you were willing to take. And it was not a decision any of them could make for you.

Ultimately, their begrudging support was because you were still female. The Yautja males could do nothing but yield to your wishes. You may be of a different and much less capable species, but honorable and respected Yautja males obeyed their females. So, they would pay that same regard to you.

Thankfully, Ta’kaa’s propensity to celebrate the good in situations garnered a positive reaction that distracted you from the overall dour moods of his hunting brothers.

—

You break your glare with Ap-tui when you hear Ta’kaa whicker in excitement. He meets your gaze, molten eyes cheery and bright, and all the negative emotions leak out of you in an instant. The moss green Yautja scoops you up in his arms, all the while clicking happy noises from his mandibles. You can’t understand a word Ta’kaa says, so far gone in his elation the full Yautja tongue took hold.

Your arms wrapped loose around his neck, tears prick hot at your eyeballs as you watch Ta’kaa growl and clack and nuzzle his mandibles against the soft of your cheek. His body is like fire, and his touch is so tender, so you lean into his affections, smiling.

If there was one Yautja you could rely on for some positivity, it was Ta’kaa.

He is the youngest of the hunting party, and it shows. Ta’kaa acts far more on emotional impulse than the rest, but sometimes it makes him feel a little more human, so you don’t complain. Sometimes though, you have to remind yourself that Ta’kaa passed his Chiva and was Blooded decades before you were born. That often makes you remember that he is a Yautja, born and raised to be a hunter.

But you take his enthusiastic clicking and nuzzling with open arms, offering him kisses to his fluttering mandibles in return.

His elder brothers and cousins click and grumble amongst themselves, allowing their frustrations to air before they silence their grievances for good. Yautja are blunt and direct, so they know to speak out once and then never again. Issues of a more diplomatic blend tend to resolve quickly in Yautja circles.

Off on the sidelines, Ap-tui smothers his concerns deep inside his chest. He opts for watching you joyfully play with his younger brother, absorbing the way your strange, beautiful ooman face contorts with emotion. It took him a while to recognize that when you bare your teeth it means that you are happy, not attempting to threaten.

You are happy now, happy because you carry a pup in your womb, happy because Ap-tui remembers nights when he’s mated you, after which you’ve shed wetness from your eyes because all you’ve ever wanted was children. Another strange ability that oomans have: Crying.

He sees you’re crying now, but he knows it’s not from sadness.

A fairly important question arises in Ap-tui’s mind.

“Who is the sire?” He asks Bhu’kei, who pulls one of his daggers from its hilt at his shin. Bhu’kei doesn’t regard the hunt leader for a moment, instead opting to flip the blade in his hand, looking for impurities. When he finishes, the ink black Yautja glances out the corner of his eye at his cousin.

“You are.” Bhu’kei replies simply.

Ap-tui freezes.

—

“Bhu’kei told me that you’re the sire.” You murmur, coming behind your mate and placing your chin on his shoulder. His inky, blood red tresses tickle your cheek and neck, smooth and warm against your skin. He grunts in response, not moving from his stiff meditation pose.

Ap-tui had distanced himself from the group not long ago, escaping to his private yurt out of the corners of your peripheral. You had asked Bhu’kei what happened, as he was the last to speak to him, and the Yautja had told you then that the hunt leader was the biological father to your unborn pup.

Apparently, it was a semi big deal, as Ap-tui is the Firstborn of his bearer’s bloodline. Bhu’kei explained that, essentially, Firstborns split from their bearer’s clan when they bear or sire a pup of their own. This results in the Firstborn creating their own clan, one adjacent to their bearer’s, and in Yautja culture the position holds some weight.

It also surprised you to learn that, up until now, Ap-tui had not sired a single pup. Strange, considering he’s an elder Blooded warrior, not quite as old or experienced to be considered an Elder, but certainly no Youngblood. He should have already had many sucklings since accomplishing his Chiva, and learning that he didn’t— and that yours would be the first— filled you with a sense of pride.

Your baby with him would begin his clan with strength and status. Arrangements would need to be made, certain rites and bureaucratic agreements, but those could be saved for the future. You would give him his clan.

For now, you simply wrap your arms around Ap-tui’s torso, his corded muscles hot and strong under your arms. You kiss his shoulder.

“He also told me that’s very important.” You continue, and you kiss his reptilian-like mahogany hide again. This time, Ap-tui turns his head to look back at you, mandibles relaxed but set. His eyes look troubled.

“I am… conflicted.” He admits, and it must take all his strength to swallow his Yautja pride, if only for that little confession. You hum, and take a couple steps around him to settle yourself on his lap. Your hands rub at his broad pectoral muscles, fingers purposely catching on the twine-like string of his netted outfit.

Ap-tui looks away, jaws flaring and pulling tight rhythmically. You stare at his face, then at the scar he has that runs jagged across the crown of his head— One he received on a hunt when searching for a gift for you. The kiande amedha th’syra sits on the trophy wall in your quarters back on the hunting party’s ship, as do other gifts from the others.

“Mm. I could tell.” You reply, placing one of your hands on the side of his face. Gingerly, you turn his head so that he faces you directly, thumb rubbing lazy circles on the bone of his eye socket. A slow smile pulls the corners of your mouth up, and Ap-tui watches with hawk-like precision as your cute pink tongue wets your bottom lip.

He meets your gaze, your ooman eyes half-lidded and hungry.

“What troubles you?” You murmur, leaning in and kissing the scales above where his quad-rhythm heartbeat resides. He can tell you are trying to seduce him to wheedle out his deepest concerns. Ap-tui shivers a growl, heat settling in his bones, and he has to resist the urge to flood the yurt with his dia-shui.

“I do not want to risk you.” He confesses, running a gentle claw down the side of your face, admiring your soft, plump flesh. Ooman faces have always been captivating to him: The way you wear your emotions— blatant and raw and unforgiving.

“You’re not.” You kiss his palm as it comes to cup your cheek, and smile, “None of you are.”

Ap-tui is still hesitant and stubborn.

“Gestation may leech you.”

“Maybe— Who knows?”

His large paws trap your waist, claws brushing your skin, causing goosebumps to pepper your flesh.

“Birth will be disastrous. Perhaps fatal.”

“Isn’t it always?”

You cling to Ap-tui like he’s your lifeline. His dia-shui permeates the air, honeying it. The glaze of your arousal drives him wild. His pupils dilate to eclipse his fiery irises. He cannot help himself when he asks,

“Would you do it again? Bear our pups like a lou-dte kale?”

“Yes.”

You did not leave Ap-tui’s yurt for nearly two days.

—

The beginning months of pregnancy really only made your body fatigued and your mind sluggish. You found yourself sleeping far more often, usually clocking out well before the sun set past the horizon. This was usually in tandem to sleeping in until Ta’kaa or Th’chi awoke you to either let you know your mates would be going on a kv’var, or to just get you out from your bed of furs.

The latter usually resulted in them receiving the brunt of your sour mood and cold shoulder— A feat genuinely impressive, considering the lengths you’d go to shirk them.

Until, of course, you came to them in near tears, apologizing profusely and requiring many assurances. They would purr for you until all the wetness from your eyes dried. Th’chi especially did not like seeing you cry.

It was another can of worms pregnancy hormones opened: Mood swings.

—

You’re sure that this may be the angriest you’ve ever been.

The day could not be going worse: Th’chi wakes you at the asscrack of dawn, he doesn’t even bother helping you fix a fire for your breakfast, and then teases you to no end like he usually does, but this time he’s crossed the line.

Fury— molten hot and rising— boils under your skin. Such an intense anger you have to clench your hands into fists. You’re shaking.

“What. Did. You. Say. To. Me?” You growl through grit teeth, each word holding a venom that Th’chi is surprised you have within you, but he pays it no mind. It’ll take more than an angry oomani-di to threaten him. So, he only chortles, lilting his head. His eyes are mirthful, and you want to bash his face in.

“I said: You are rounding out impressively considering it’s only your forth month of gestation.” Th’chi says simply, poking the swell of your belly. Truly, despite only being four months along, you easily look as though you may be six. A side effect of carrying a fetus that’s almost too big for your womb.

That doesn’t dispel the fact that Th’chi is standing before you, a shit-eating look in his eye, and telling you that he thinks you’re fat. You already have been struggling with your changing body and self image. Th’chi only confirms your fears.

“I must also say, your thighs are fattening nicely as well.”

Th’chi must know he’s digging his own grave. He’s not this stupid. Or maybe he is. You’re starting to not care either way.

Bhu’kei has enough sense to stay put on the opposite side of camp.

Ta’kaa, Ap-tui, and Van’chaa have made themselves scarce. Faintly, you recall Van’chaa muttering something about an impromptu kv’var and cursing his younger brother’s name.

This is Th’chi’s mess.

You take a deep breath.

And then Hell breaks loose.

—

By the time you’ve finished your rant, you’re panting, hot in the face, and immediately regretting every word that came out of your mouth. Th’chi looks shocked, his shoulders set, and your heart breaks further when his eyes go stony and hard. He growls lightly, then pivots on his heel and stalks off, clearly upset.

Bhu’kei is looking at you, incredulous, but he only snorts and shakes his head. A pang of regret makes your heart clench behind your ribs. Oh God.

Salvaging whatever remaining anger you have, you turn on your heel and wander off to Ap-tui’s yurt that is halfway across camp. You don’t look back.

The second the yurt door closes, the heat of your anger completely dissipates and leaves you cold with shame and regret. Embarrassment, almost as liquid hot as the wrath before, comes crashing down on you. Immediately, you want to run back out and jump into Th’chi’s arms and tell him over and over how much you love him.

“Oh my God.” Your head falls into your palms, hot tears finally breaking through and wetting your lashes and hands. You said some absolutely heinous things to your mate, words that you made sure would sting. Sniffling wetly, you lower yourself on the edge of Ap-tui’s nest, wringing your fingers in the fibers of the fur beneath you.

Part of you wonders if you should just stay here until the situation blows over. Another, louder part of you screams to tell you to suck it up and go apologize. A few minutes pass as you let yourself cry some more and ponder. The louder part wins: Shame is a powerful beast.

You rise (an action becoming harder and harder with your swelling middle) and make your way out Ap-tui’s yurt.

—

Hesitant steps take you to Th’chi’s personal yurt that sits adjacent to Bhu’kei’s. Said Yautja is where you last saw him, his midnight hide blending him into the dark metal of his yurt. He dips his head when he sees you and whickers in support when you stall in front of Th’chi’s door. His golden eyes are soft when he says, “Go to him. He needs only your presence.”

You smile sadly and nod, placing one hand atop the door’s biometric scanner and the other on your belly. The door opens and you step inside the yurt. His space smells like home.

When you spot Th’chi lounging on his bed, tears bubble up and spill over again, and he only clicks and opens his arms to you. You bound over as fast as you can, practically tossing yourself into his arms. He’s warm, and his chest begins to rumble with purrs— Calming, like the way that Yautja males do for distressed females.

“‘M sorry.” You mumble against Th’chi’s chest, “I dunno what came over me.”

He chitters, smoothing a palm down your hair like he’s petting you. His hand cradles the back of your skull and holds you close. Th’chi has dealt with the wrath of Yautja both in combat and in mating— Your spat was nothing short of amusing to him. Sure, your words had been hurtful in the moment, but he knew that none of them reflected your true intentions.

“Such fire, little mate.” He teases, tusks tickling your tear-stricken cheeks, “Our little sain’ja.”

Thankfully, his disregard for your outburst and comforting words lends to your tears to stop so profusely flowing. One of his rough thumbs smooths across the arch of cheek and wipes away the tears. Th’chi has never understood why and how oomans leak from their eyes (seems incredibly inconvenient) but he hates when you do.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.” You can’t help but say again, kissing his sternum. Th’chi only purrs louder, the velvety rumble beckoning your now exhausted self to sleep. You press closer to him, shifting in his lap as he grabs a fur to toss around your shoulders.

“I forgive you. Words spoken in the heat of anger often lack substance.” He replies, mandibles quivering when you place kisses to his chin. Th’chi will never admit it out loud, but he loves and desires your kisses like no other. He especially loves when your weird fleshy lips press against his face.

“I said such terrible things, Th’chi. I don’t know if I can forgive myself.” You murmur between soft pecks you leave on his slate blue skin, around the quills that grow from his collarbones. The hand he has on the back of your skull trembles almost imperceptibly before moving to grip your chin. Th’chi holds you as if you are glass.

“A Yautja female would never even entertain the thought of apologizing to a male. Even if she’s wronged him. Little mate,” Th’chi guides your eyes to look up at him, “You are more precious to me than the kv’var. You show yin’tekai in being here, with me, sharing my yurt and bearing my kin.”

Th’chi’s canary yellow eyes bore into yours. They look like twin suns.

“I love you, you big dope, y’know that?” You blubber after a stretch of silence, tears falling down your cheeks again, and this time Th’chi understands this wetness to mean you are happy.

He still doesn’t like it, so he purrs even louder to calm you down. You fall asleep only minutes later.

—

The mood swings began to taper around the time other parts of your body began to really feel the pregnancy. It was difficult to be distracted with your haywire emotions when your back started to hurt at all times, you were thirsty and hungry at all times, you peed a lot, and your ankles and hips were sore (and not the pleasant sore from having sex with one or more of your Yautja).

Not to mention the bowling ball that sat in your belly. The pup was big, heavy, and it was active. Your organs started to feel like punching bags. Especially your bladder, which is what your pup seemed to favor jabbing a foot into. It also liked squirming around when you slept, so the lack of sleep was fun.

And then there was the debacle with your breasts. It seemed that your human pregnancy hormones went into hyperdrive to compensate for the Yautja pup growing in your womb. The pup would need thrice the amount of milk as a human child once it was born, and the moment you entered your approximate second trimester, your already tender breasts ballooned to sizes you thought unimaginable.

At first, it was difficult to reconcile your new, curvaceous bosom— Often you found yourself weeping at the sight of your engorged chest. Your swollen, flush tits hung nearly to your waist on either side of your round belly, nipples darkened and pointed straight to the floor. You missed your old breasts, and mourned the fact that they’d never be the same again.

Not to mention that they were awfully heavy, like two pendulous dumbbells that pulled at your upper back muscles. It was enough that your ankles, hips, and lower back ached, but your breasts added your shoulders to the list too.

—

“I can’t look at myself!” You sob into Van’chaa’s netted chest like a baby, blubbering about how much you hate your new figure, and that it makes you feel and look ugly. Van’chaa doesn’t say anything, only patting your head with a gentle paw as you weep against him.

He is desperately confused— Yautja do not suffer the same body issues as oomans do, and he thinks that the near-obsessive paranoia that you display about losing “your figure” is ridiculous. Of course, he would never tell you that directly, especially in the... tender mindset you’re currently in.

You are pregnant, carrying a Yautja pup— a future hunter to an apex predator race. Not to mention a Firstborn of a strong clan. That should bring you honor and respect. It should not bring you despair.

“Little mate,” He decides to coo, nuzzling your hair with his tusks, “No tears. Pregnancy is honorable, and it gives you status. You are like Paya.”

You sniffle, listening to his words and recognizing that Paya is the Yautja deity, and that any form of comparison is a big deal, but your self-image has still been utterly shattered. Confidence that you once had in your body has fallen to the wayside. You tell this to Van’chaa, and he chuffs, then stands up. He looks expectantly down at you, offering his hand, which you take to stand with still a lot of effort.

“Come.” He replies simply, and he starts walking off in the direction of the common yurt, the biggest one in the center of camp where your hunters store miscellaneous goods or shared objects. You walk after him, slowly and with a hand planted on your aching back, ignoring (for now) the hungry look Ta’kaa gives you from across the clearing.

Van’chaa stops at the yurt’s door, opening it and gesturing for you to step in first. You do, keeping your wary gaze on your mate as he strides to the opposite side of the hut, pulling from a wall compartment a sleek black box. Van’chaa strides just as confidently back to you, placing the box in front of you. He opens its top with a click of its latches, like a chest.

The direction of the box prevents you from seeing what Van’chaa is digging for, and you’re about to walk over and see for yourself when the midnight blue Yautja reveals four silver items in his paws. They look like mini gauntlets, obviously made for your human body, but they don’t seem to have any weapons or fancy technology attached.

“Remove your coverings.” Van’chaa rumbles, and the request has you recoiling. The simple white cotton dress you’re wearing really has no special connection to you, but it was one of the few articles of clothing you had. Plus, it was flowy and loose enough for your seemingly ever-growing body and covered up your Problem Areas quite effectively.

“Why?” You ask, shuffling on your feet and Van’chaa can smell your apprehension. He clicks and tilts his head to the side, his long, rubbery black tresses falling past his shoulder.

“Do you trust me, little mate?” He asks, his low, gravelly voice is tender, like the way it gets when he reminisces to you about his bearer on nights when you’re both tipsy on c’ntlip. It’s the same voice he uses when he confesses his love for you under the blanket secrecy of midnight. Van’chaa reaches and cups your cheek in his palm, marveling at how his hand dwarfs you, purring.

“Yes.” You whisper, smiling softly and turning to kiss the palm of his hand. Van’chaa trills in delight, and withdraws his hand to pick up one of the metal cuff-like objects. He holds it out towards you, clicking.

“Then remove your coverings.” He says simple, and with a long, somewhat shaky sigh, you undo the tie at the front of your dress and bare yourself in one swoop. Van’chaa sees the apprehension and disgust towards your own body flash on your face, and once again he is so confused as to why you think so poorly of your own flesh.

He can’t help but marvel— Ooman physiology has always intrigued him, though he’d never admit it out loud. There’s something about the way your oomani-di body is so close to a Yautja female, similar in its curves and decidedly female traits.

And your specific ooman-ness draws him in further. Van’chaa always secretly admired your even, smooth skin, the softness of your plush flesh, your legs and thighs… Admittedly, it had taken him some time to get used to your strange, and by Yautja standards, ugly face, but now he looks forward to it each morning he wakes. He cannot imagine life without you.

Pregnancy does nothing to change his mind on this. If anything, watching your belly swell with pup and your breasts become milk-laden has been… titillating. It arouses some deep intimate, primal fire in his core— One that drives him to the edge (and sometimes over) of desire and back.

Van’chaa wants to lick the taut dome of your belly. He wants to feel you squirm and pant below him, wants to watch those bloated tits of yours bounce in time with his thrusts. One day, he wants to mate you until his seed takes hold. Then he will watch you swell again with his pup. The thought has him relaxing his mandibles.

“Van’chaa?” Your quiet pry pulls him from his reverie and makes him realize that he’d been flooding the air with his dia-shui. You’ve taken notice, as you’ve come to recognize the earthy musk, and your eyelids are now drooped halfway, lustful.

“Wrists. Ankles.” Van’chaa growls, ignoring (for now) the heady scent of your arousal that permeates the air around you. If he glances down, he’ll surely see the slick ambrosia dripping from your cunt. Van’chaa decides today is an exercise in self control. He all but tosses the cuffs to you.

—

The strange cuffs lock around your wrists and ankles firmly, yet gently. When you test one by flexing your arm, the metal seems to have some uncharacteristic give. It feels breathable and acts more like leather than steel. You go to ask Van’chaa why exactly you’re wearing them, when he presses a button on one of the cuffs.

You yelp as netting flows from all four cuffs, racing over your body like water on rocks. It’s very similar to what the Yautja wear beneath their armor, the same black thread-like material. But you can tell it’s stronger, more durable, and somehow it even provides you with some warmth. It must be temperature regulated in some way.

In addition, the net outfit must work in a way that provides support, as the usual pull on your back from your breasts and heavy belly is noticeably lessened. For that, you are eternally grateful.

... However, the net bodysuit— like your mates— acts more like a birthday suit than much else and does very little in the way of modesty. It practically leaves you half naked, though the netting over your crotch does seem to be a bit denser. The same can not be said for your breasts— the netting on your bloated tits and puffy nipples is exceptionally light in comparison.

“Van’chaa, what is this?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and internally wincing at how much squishy yield your rack gives. He only chitters, those deep-set blue eyes of his shining in what you can only describe as mischief. You watch as his paws disappear back inside of the box, reappearing with a tiny, bird-like skull in hand.

You don’t recognize what animal it may be from— Earthen or otherwise— but you watch with bated breath as Van’chaa, in a way that can only be described as sacred, attaches the skull to the netting at the center of your chest. It sits atop the shelf of your cleavage, a centerpiece for what’s to come.

Van’chaa continues to decorate you, lining bones of all sorts on your hips in alternating patterns, always using sterling white ones. Before he pulls away from you, he adorns your neck with a bone necklace, clicking softly as he does. It’s like he’s whispering prayer, like the necklace of ivory and claws is as if you’re being bestowed a crown.

“Van’chaa...” You breathe, still taken aback at how tenderly and religiously your mate dressed you in items that his people would wear. He secures a leather-like cloth around your hips that ties below the bones on either side. The fabric covers your crotch and backside, giving you at least some modem of modesty. It’s not much, but at least you feel less nude.

Van’chaa pulls away from you, trilling. He’s elated, eyes bright and proud of his handiwork. Then, he visits the box again and this time pulls out a larger, thin item. He sets it in front of you, the glint of its surface catching the light— and your reflection.

It’s a mirror. A long, full body mirror that captures you in all your fat, pregnant glory.

Body covered in fishnet netting, adorned with bones, dressed in leather; You honestly believe this is the most beautiful you’ve felt in a while. Your new body is complimented and spotlighted in this outfit, belly and breasts and all. The slopes and curves of your figure are hugged in a way that doesn’t make you want to look away.

You also notice, for the first time, how beautifully glossy your hair’s become. And the healthy glow on the apples of your cheeks. You look at the strange, bird-like skull on your sternum.

You look like a Yautja.

Van’chaa chuffs beside you, and you break your gaze from your reflection to see him offering you a pair of tiny sandals. The soles look to be made of thick leather, but the ties seem to be a softer material. When you take them from him, it all clicks in your mind.

“Van’chaa... did you make this all for me?” You ask softly, staring at the shoes in your hands before glancing back up at your mate. Van’chaa dips his head once in response, his electric blue eyes alight like lightning. His dia-shui is unavoidable and unignorable.

“Thank you.” You breathe, sighing in content when Van’chaa sweeps you up into his arms and deposits you onto his bed. The plush furs are soft and support you well. Your core is so hot at this point you nearly whimper. The air is glazed and thick and it’s like breathing in honey. Van’chaa situates himself above you, his tresses fall on either side of your head and he leans in close.

“Would you like me to show my thanks?” You coo, kissing the pink flesh of his flared mandibles, meeting his eyes when you lick up one of his tusks. Van’chaa growls in warning. He sees your coy play and calls you on it. One of his paws grips your thighs and spreads you for him. The leather flap is easily moved out of the way and it’s then you notice there’s an opening in the netting at the base of your core.

Easy access, you suppose, and all other thought escapes you when your mate snarls and presses the tent under his loincloth to your aching pussy. His other hand slides up your belly, then cups one of your breasts. Van’chaa squeezes, and you moan.

“Please fuck me.” You gasp, gripping his bicep when his claws toy with your nipple. The bones you wear click together like wind chimes. You say again, desperate and horny and feeling beautiful:

“Please.”

Van’chaa happily obliges.

—

Another milestone you pass during the duration of your pregnancy also has to do with your breasts. Seemingly, they just don’t let you catch a break. Aside from being heavy and bouncy and literally swaying while you walk (despite your new clothes), they’ve also begun to leak.

You lactate for the first time in front of Bhu’kei, right as he’s about to perform the routine health screen on you. Just as the light flickers over your belly (where the pup had been doing flips as of late) you feel... wet. A dampness made itself very known on your chest, then spread.

“Oh my God!” Bhu’kei’s attention snaps back to you at your incredulous remark, and he is met with the sight of you pinching your nipples between your fingers. Thick droplets of milk still leak past and he notices the trails on your belly. Your face has gone ashen and hot at the same time. Bhu’kei recognizes this as mortification.

“You have started your lactation. This is good.” Bhu’kei states with a swift nod of his head and turns back to your scan. Speaking of good, all of your vitals are also stellar. The pup is stable as well. Bhu’kei is content at this knowledge.

“I’m fucking leaking!” Your voice raises an octave and Bhu’kei watches as you scramble to find a cloth to press to your bosom. When your fingers leave your nipples, a white spray occurs that has you yelping and pinching them again, Bhu’kei clicks in amusement, but you shoot him a withering glare.

“Not. Funny. I can’t go around dripping milk everywhere.” You frown, skin feeling moist and sticky from your milk that’s left trails on your belly. You want to wipe it up, but your fingers can’t leave your nipples. Though... the longer you’re pinching to stop the flow, the more your breasts begin to feel... tight.

More so than usual. Like the pressure’s building. Experimentally, you release one of your sensitive nipples and the torrent of milk is powerful enough to spurt from you like a faucet. Your jaw drops.

Bhu’kei whickers, impressed.

The pressure cedes, and when pinch them again, it begins to grow.

It seems your stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You look to Bhu’kei, and your eyes are pleading. You pout, “What do I do now?”

—

The solution Bhu’kei ultimately recommended was unorthodox.

Usually, pumping milk would’ve been an affair saved for after the pup was born, but you started lactating and profusely leaking so early on that it needed to be done. Plus, you and Bhu’kei did not want you to risk developing mastitis, which would be just the cherry-on-top to your pregnancy.

The issue was, the Yautja didn’t have any suitable equipment to perform the duty of pumping, so it had to be done manually. At first, you were able to squeeze your breasts rhythmically, draining milk into large glass vials that would be frozen and stored for later, but your hands soon tired.

So, with the help of your mates, you pumped milk.

—

“Bhu’kei! Bhu’kei! Bhu’kei!”

The only word your mouth seems to know is his name. Your pussy throbs with need, clit aching for contact. Bhu’kei is planted firmly behind you, but he won’t concede and fill your dripping core with his cock. Instead, he rests the hot rod between your ass cheeks, teasing you by thrusting lazily.

It’s all so much. You can hardly breathe. His dia-shui is suffocating in the best way possible. Bhu’kei’s hands are working magic on you.

Large paws alternate the respective tit they squeeze, drawing long streams of milk from your chest. He tweaks and pinches the stiff peaks of your nipples like he’s toying with them. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced— Strange, yet natural, yet absolutely dirty.

You hazy mind and glossy eyes focus enough to process that the glass vial is nearly halfway full. The session is far from over. You don’t want it to end.

It’s almost humiliating. You’re being milked like a fucking cow. But you have Bhu’kei, nearly rabid with horniness, all-too-enthusiastically rutting wildly between your thighs as if he’s experiencing his rut. Hell, maybe he is. You might just be tempting enough to speed up the waiting time.

It became apparent very quickly that lactation did not sway any of the hunting brothers from gladly warming your bed. They fought over who got to help you pump, and the winner, often bloody and bruised, would be bolstered enough to claim you in the middle of camp.

You whine and moan, and Bhu’kei finally relents and on the next thrust the tip of his cock catches on your weeping slit then sinks home. You wail with pleasure, eyes rolling back as Bhu’kei stretches you in one fell swoop. You grip his wrists, feeling the tendons beneath your hands work. Milk is drawn from you. Your face is flush with heat, your hair sticks to the nape of your neck and temples, sweat gathers beneath your belly and the junctions where you are propped on a pile of furs.

“Bhu’kei!~” You bay his name like a wounded dog, high pitched and airy, and he starts to thrust with fervor. He snarls and growls, gripping your tits firm, but remembering to perform the job. Bhu’kei won’t admit, but it’s becoming harder and harder to focus on aiding you with pumping when your tight, hot cunt is stretched around his shaft.

Mating you is always like this: Soft, raw, and wet like the humid jungle around you. Bhu’kei doesn’t even consider taking you to his yurt like he did earlier, the low growling and pointed glares of his hunting brothers around him is far too satisfying.

He catches the stare of Ap-tui and purposely gives you a sharp thrust that has you gasping just to spite him. His cousin flares his mandibles, his own dia-shui flooding around him. The same can be said of the others as well, all the Yautja males bristle and pace like ravenous wolves wanting a bite of the ripe flesh before them.

Bhu’kei understands fully. You are beneath him like prey, spread out and whining and quivering... How could anyone not find you tempting?

“Her cunt is sweet. Tight and soft and wet. My cock is blessed.” Bhu’kei teases the hunting party and a chorus of roars and growls lifts the air. You’re too far gone to comprehend it. Bhu’kei slides the blunt of tusks down the side of your cheek, trapping you beneath him. His cock works in tandem with his hands.

“Come for me.” He urges you, whickering into your ear. Tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks. It’s all so much. Bhu’kei draws back, then thrusts and hits the special, spongy part inside your cunt.

You orgasm so hard you pass out.

The pumping session had to come to an end.

—

In general, your pregnancy had relatively few hiccups along the way. Most of the time you and your mates spent preparing for the upcoming birth, stocking enough food to last so that none of them had to leave your side until well after you’d given birth. It was something you wanted, just time with them and your new pup for a little while.

Thus, the days were often long and unexciting. You and your mates either fucked or slept or ate. They would take turns leaving for a couple days to replenish more food. The Yautja would sometimes fight one another for entertainment, and to keep their abilities sharp.

In the waning months of pregnancy, however, something eventful did occur.

You were nearly nine and a half months along when your party received a visitor. A Yautja ship appeared out of the blue, snapping your mates into action. They suited up in full armor, on edge.

Apparently, it’s bad form to intrude on occupied hunting territories without an invitation (which your party never gave) or asking first (which they never did). So when the ship landed, your already peeved Yautja were downright hostile towards whoever was bold enough to invade their space.

Ap-tui was particularly pissed, being the hunt leader and all. You had never seen him that bristly before.

But then the most curious turn of events happened.

The ship's docking bay opened to reveal a very tall, very tough looking, very female Yautja.

—

yautja translations

Chiva → the trial of which a Youngblood Yautja is Blooded should they succeed in killing a kiande amedha (Xenomorph) c’ntlip → a Yautja alcoholic beverage dia-shui → musk, specifically that of a male lou-dte kale → child maker (derogatory) ooman / oomani-di → human / human female Paya → Yautja creation goddess sain’ja → warrior yin’tekai → honor

#the predator #predator #aliens vs predator #avp #yautja #predator x you #yautja fanfic #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #yautja x human #yautja oc #predator oc #predator x human

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

-- masterlist -- archived, 2020

[18+ advised ] This is going to be long af. I’m going to do my best to put everything - all my writing on this blog, in one goddamn place, but I make no promises, so forgive me in advance. Below the cut is everything I’ve written and posted, for every single fandom I’ve written for so far. If [mature] or [suggestive] is present in the title/post, 18+ only. If you’re looin for y/n here, you won’t really find it. I prefer to use oc’s in writing most of the time because it’s easier for me.

** the titles in bold and not linked I either haven’t written or I’ve lost the link for. jsyk. I do that so that when/if I get around to writing something, it’s already got a place. It’s weird, I’m weird.**

If you want to be on the taglist for my writing, you can find that [here]. If you want to know what I write / how often I write and stuff like that, my faq/about post is [here]

--𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

[ 1984 ]

xavier plympton - cherry popped | spring | mature.

--ℂ𝕊𝕀

[ Miami ]

eric delko - tba | fall/winter | mature.

tim speedle - perfect | spring | mature.

[ Vegas ]

greg sanders - tba | fall/winter | mature.

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕌𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

[ Avengers ]

bucky barnes - slippery when wet | winter | mature.

captain america - choke me | winter | suggestive.

pietro maximoff - faster, baby | spring | mature.

[ Guardians Of The Galaxy ]

starlord - eat me | spring | mature.

[ Venom ]

eddie brock - milf isn’t a bad word | spring | mature.

-- ℝ𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕕𝕒𝕝𝕖

archie andrews - tba | summer/fall | mature.

jughead jones - tba | summer/fall | mature.

reggie mantle - yours | summer | mature.

sweet pea - selfish | summer | mature.

--𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕆𝕗 𝔸𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕪

juice ortiz - needed me | spring | mature.

--𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

billy hargrove - tba | summer/fall | mature.

jonathan byers - surrender | summer | mature.

steve harrington - wet | summer | mature.

steve harrington - disaster | summer | mature.

--𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝

dean winchester - tba | summer/fall | mature.

kevin tran - tba | fall / winter | suggestive.

sam winchester - tba | summer/fall | mature.

-- 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

embry call - tba | summer/fall | mature.

jacob black - found you | spring | mature.

paul lahote - tba | summer/fall | mature.

-- 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

matt saracen, remember you young by thomas rhett | angst & fluff / reunion

-- 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

jonathan byers, i think i love you | fluff. two best friends admitting their feelings for each other. an au take on my oc pairing with Steve Harrington, so an au of an au oops rip.

steve harrington, blindsided | fluff and awkward cute first kisses,ftw.

-- 𝟙𝟚 ℝ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝟛: 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟

jon shaw - galentines / be my valentine - ex lovers, drinking tw, intense fluff.

-- 𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

[ Apocalypse ]

michael langdon - moon dance - a witch and her dance under the moon captivates Michael Langdon. sexual tension, ftw.

-- 𝔸𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

[ Legends Of Tomorrow ]

ray palmer - back where you came from - time travel, mutual crushes

ray palmer - bachlorette party gone wrong or right - flirty first meeting at a bachelor party

ray palmer - villainesses want heroes - a good guy with a bad girl? more likely than you think.

-- ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜

dennis zalewski - photo booth montage - angst / hurt comfort, major character death & mourning, ghosts.

the kid / henry deaver - you were different - alternate universe personas reunite, intense makeout ensues.

--𝔻ℂ ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔

[ Suicide Squad ]

captain boomerang - expecting someone taller - first date / blind date.

-- 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

landry clarke - if i only had a brain | someday my prince will come - tutor turned friend turned crush. kissing and stuff.

tim riggins - wedding bell blues | so this is love - a wedding brings two people closer and the end result is Riggins, settling down.

tim riggins - voice like honey - tim flirting with a new girl in Dillon? the chances are more likely than you think.

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔

[ Avengers ]

bucky barnes - girls,girls,girls - bucky’s omega likes to dance. and to offer herself up as bait. bucky doesn’t like this... intense heated conversation ensues.

captain america - no selfies in the bathroom please? - oh, nothing but Steve Rogers and an OC flirting over the phone. Innuendo towards the end if you squint.

[ Punisher]

frank castle - patient of the week - patching up Frank isn’t the only thing she longs to do. A kiss is shared.

-- 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤

lip gallagher - wedding crasher | the nanny and the professor - lip and his girl and their ups and downs. They go from him crashing her wedding drunk to the two having a night of domestic bliss.. and a kid. mildly suggestive the second part is.

-- 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕆𝕗 𝔸𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕪

juice ortiz - crow flies | rough rider | treat you as good as my leather - snippets from the relationship between juice and my OC, Hazel Teller.

juice ortiz - glass houses | throwing stones - more from relationship between Juice Ortiz and Hazel Teller, tbh.

-- 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

billy hargrove - let the days go by - flashbacks to a first meeting as an OC mourns Billy’s supposed death post S3.

jonathan byers - should’ve been a better shot - Tommy H’s girlfriend (not Carol, an oc) is getting more than a little sick of being Tommy’s property. Kissing Jonathan Byers seems like a good way to end that and to let jonathan know that she likes him a lot. Fluff/humor, warnings of Tommy H being his usual asshole douchenozzle self.

steve harrington - glass houses | throwing stones, this is set in the now main au timeline I have for Steve Harrington and my original character Charlotte Granger.

-- 𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝

crowley - the witching hour - just a father/daughter heart to heart with Poppy. family bonding ftw. [ goes with pop goes my heart tangentially]

dean winchester - pop goes my heart - poppy gets under his skin in all the wrong ways AND all the right ones.

dean winchester - gingerbread family - the boys find themselves waking up to Christmas as a totally normal family. How will they react to the things they find themselves able to do at last?

sam winchester - heaven knows - his guardian angel only wanted to protect him. now she’s been banished to earth and she’s mortal. and they wind up flirting / getting closer.

sam winchester - candy apple kisses | gingerbread family - sam never forgot about her. maybe that’s why as a result of a wish he and dean may or may not have both made, he wakes up to find himself married to her.

-- 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕕

[ The following ones are all part of this huuuuge everchanging universe/storyline that I have with BOTH men, for my OC Evie. In some, she’s with Daryl, in others, Shane. They’re all wildly canon divergent and all over the place, lmao.]

daryl dixon - watch the world burn [married au] | a vision from a sugarplum fairy | garden by the sea - a series of alternate takes / twists and moments between my OC Evie Grimes and Daryl Dixon.

shane walsh - scream queen [reunited lovers au] | sweet morning rose | you and your high horse - a series of alternate takes/twists and moments between my OC Evie Grimes and Shane Walsh.

-- 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

jacob black, one day more, angst |

-- ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤

derek morgan x -being roommates with |

-- 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝 ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕌𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖

sam wilson / falcon x - dating falcon |

CSI MIAMI;

tim speedle [ d m y ] | [ b o u ] | [ c e k ] | j w x | l f |

STAR WARS;

kylo ren [ k l r ] |

CSI: Las Vegas;

CSI:Miami;

m i n e | tim speedle x former lover!OFC, Sylvie | genres : suspense/action, romance/fluff, hurt comfort, angst, slow burn | chapters : [ one two pt 1 two pt 2 three three pt 2 ] | soundtrack: here | warnings: slow burn, crime / stalker tw, other themes and eventual smut/sexual content tw, [discontinued to be rewritten]

Riverdale;

gangsta | sweetpea x Andrews!SiblingOFC, Alyssa | genres: teen angst - drama, suspense, hurt comfort, romance, slow burn | chapters: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten- eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen - | soundtrack: here | warnings: fighting / swearing, sexual tension, awkward situations & eventual smut.. your typical high school overdramatic bs. Bit of an au because I only plan to loosely follow the series. | [ discontinued to be rewritten ]

Sons Of Anarchy;

home | juice ortiz x Teller!OFC, Hazelynn | genres: action / suspense, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, romance, smut | chapters: one - two - three - | soundtrack: here | warnings: slow burn, heavy sexual tension, violence and other adult themes, alcohol / drugs / illegal activities, sex worker ofc tw, sexual content eventually | [ being rewritten to be reposted soonish ]

Stranger Things;

upside down | steve harrington x OFC, Jenny | genres: teen angst - drama, suspense, hurt comfort, friendship, fluff, action, | chapters: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - | soundtrack: here | warnings: fighting / swearing, sexual tension, awkward situations & eventual smut... your typical high school drama + science fiction-y type misadventures,lmaoo. | [discontinued to be rewritten]

#multifandom writing masterlist #masterlist multifandom #multifandom fanfiction #multifandom fanfic writer

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mlmdarkfiction · 5 years ago

Link

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Ship: Hubert Von Vestra/OC

Fic Description: Hubert cares about Luis. Cares about his feelings, his consent, and his pleasure. The last thing he would want is to hurt the other man. Especially when it comes to something like this, something that would result in him giving both his control and trust to Hubert.

Author Comment: I started writing this fic in February and just got around to finishing it. I'm trying to remind myself it's okay to sometimes be self indulgent and just write things involving oc/canon or just writing things for myself. If anyone does like Luis though I plan to write a rather large multichapter fic sometime relatively soonish involving lots of Fire emblem ocs...so there's that! In the mean time enjoy some soft Hubert.

Possible Content Warnings: NSFW, Hypnosis, Hypnosis Kink, Magic Used In Sex, There’s no actual sex but erect dicks are present and mentioned

Read Below:

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

Hubert’s voice is soft as he looks up from his position on the bed to his husband. Only like this, with him sitting, is he actually shorter than the other man. The moment his eyes meet Luis’ red though, he knows that the other wants to go through with this.

Despite what everyone else, even some of their so-called ‘friends’ believe, Hubert cares about Luis. Cares about his feelings, his consent, and his pleasure. The last thing he would want is to hurt the other man. Especially when it comes to something like this, something that would result in him giving both his control and trust to Hubert.

He trusts himself, of course, but...he wants to make sure Luis trusts him too.

“I am.”

Luis smiles down at Hubert. He likes it like this, when Hubert is seated on their bed, and he is still standing. It makes him feel bigger for once, it’s a nice change of pace to feel like the powerful one.

He cups Hubert’s cheeks. His own hands are cold, but it doesn’t stop Hubert from leaning into the touch.

Luis’ answer, it’s what Hubert had known the other would say, but still...there is a validation in the fact that Luis trusts him that feels wonderful, the soft affection feels wonderful.

Luis is smaller than Hubert.

He always has been, and although he’s grown quite a bit since their time in the Officers Academy, it’s doubtful he’ll ever be as tall as Hubert himself.

The other man's upbringing, even though he was, technically, a noble himself, left him scarred both emotionally and physically. And because of it, his growth had been stunted, leaving Luis much smaller than their peers.

That’s why Hubert is gentle as he pulls the other man into his lap.

He can’t suppress the smile slowly creeping onto his face when he feels just how hard Luis is already. Hubert has barely touched him, and in fact hasn’t touched his dick at all, and yet the other is already fully erect.

It was usually like this though.

The mage wonders if Luis’ erection is the cause of actual excitement for what’s to come, or if he, like always, is just so eager to please Hubert that his body automatically follows suit.

“We need a word,”

“A word?” Luis interrupts before Hubert can finish explaining.

He shifts Luis silently, the man's thighs now on both sides of his lap, straddling him. His hand brings one of Luis’ into his own where he pulls it to his lips kissing Luis’ tan, scarred knuckles.

“Yes, a word,” He says after the act of adoration, watching the way Luis giggles softly at it. It’s his way of reacting to soft intimacy, something Hubert will never understand and yet always appreciate all the same.

Even after explaining to Hubert that he doesn’t just want, but needs the man’s adoration and praise, Luis still seems...surprised and elitated every time Hubert actually gives him it.

As if to this day, after four years of being married, Luis is still surprised to find that Hubert loves him.

“We need a trigger word,” He continues, explaining, “Something we won’t say by accident, that way you’ll be safe getting in and out of the space.”

Hubert is taking this as seriously as he does everything, even with Luis flush in the face and seated on his lap.

“Right...a word…” The sentence is more of a soft hum than anything else, only audible because of the closeness of their bodies.

“What about sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” Hubert repeats, trying the word for himself. It does fit.

It’s not a term either man uses for one another. Their terms of endearment, although drastically different, generally don’t involve the phrase.

Hubert is, in a way, a far more formal lover. His nicknames tend to be traditional; Love, Dear, or simply Husband.

Luis’ are like the man himself, far more on the emotional side, nicknames like ; Darling, My Love, Dearest, and a wide array of cheesy variations of Hubert’s name.

“Sweetheart could work.” Hubert decides looking down at the smaller man still upon his lap. “I just thought it was cute, you know?” Luis isn’t looking at Hubert now, his eyes cast down bashfully as he takes one of the mages hands into his own, linking their fingers together.

It’s so cute Hubert is momentarily stunned unable to react. He is hit with just how much he loves the other man.

There is a slight pause before his gloved freehand grabs Luis’ chin, tilting it up so that he’s facing him. The silence makes Luis’ nervous, so Hubert makes it quick, only a moment of staring into the red orbs he loves so much before their lips meet.

Luis’ lips are soft. They’ve always been soft, despite the numerous scars and calluses that cover the man's body everywhere else. And even as soft as they are, Luis has never had any issue with kissing Hubert’s own chapped lips.

It seems, in fact, that Luis quite enjoys kissing Hubert,if the soft moan he gives is any indication. Though...the moan may entirely be the cause of Hubert moving his thigh to rub against the straining bulge in Luis pants. When they part Hubert is smirking.

“Let’s begin then, focus on me.”

And ever the obedient husband, Luis does so.

The magic itself is stupidly simple. Hubert had been able to master it in less than a day. Hubert keeps Luis’ eyes on his, even as the soft glow of the dark magic begins to illuminate them both, and then…

“Sweetheart.”

If Hubert hadn’t practiced beforehand, if he hadn’t first tried the spell on someone else, he would have been worried about the way the light seems to leave Luis’ eyes.

A tentative hand finds its way to his husband's thigh, where it then begins to rub gentle circles, trailing close to, but never actually touching his clothed erection. “How are you feeling?”

Luis will answer honestly, Hubert’s research on the spell has found.

“Weird.” His voice is utterly emotionless, and soft.

“Good weird?” The hand remains gentle, not wanting to spook the man under hypnosis.

“Yeah…”

“Good.”

He is prepared to stop as soon as Luis gives the word, as soon as anything seems off or uncomfortable. This is far less about his own pleasure, and more for that of Luis. After all it had been him to ask, having found out about the spell, while researching for one of his books.

“Then...Strip for me.”

“Ah?” It’s a soft curious noise that leaves the soft parted lips, and although his movement is sluggish and off, Hubert helps Luis off of his lap and to his feet.

What occurs is far from the sexy strip tease Hubert had been expecting. In his hypnotized state, Luis is too sluggish to actually unbutton his shirt, and so it takes a moment before Hubert realizes he needs to intervene.

He does so, gloved hands reaching to the silk material, buttons removed one by one to reveal Luis’ scared chest.

As one hand removes the shirt entirely the other allows a finger to trail gently down one of the scars, resting just above Luis’ hip bone.

Normally Luis is far too high strung and nervous to allow Hubert to stare at him like this. To really examine him, and his body.

The first time Hubert had seen him nude, Luis had cried. Tears caused by anxiety and fear.

He worried that the other would find him, the damaged state of his body disgusting.

It’s better now, somewhat, but even after countless reassurances Luis is far from completely soothed, still far from allowing Hubert to gawk at his naked form.

And seeing him now, truly for the first time and without restraint, Hubert realizes just how beautiful his husband is. He is beautiful not in spite of his scars, but because of them.

Scars caused by abuse, by his own crests destructive power, they meant that Luis was a fighter.

The muscles in the man's chest and stomach clench and flex under the gentle trailing of finger tips, and Hubert doesn’t miss the full body shudder that comes from Luis.

It could be considered teasing, something Luis hates within the bedroom.

He’s always needy, always wanting, always begging Hubert to just give him everything he has, but not now.

Now he’s flushed and silent and shirtless, staring at Hubert through half lidded eyes.

“You’re lovely.” Hubert reassures, although really there’s no need. He’s hoping that perhaps, the conscious layer of Luis left underneath the hypnosis may be able to hear it, may take to heart his words, and finally truly believe the depth of Hubert’s adoration.

He can only hope.

“I love you.”

It’s so much easier to express himself like this, when there’s no chance of embarrassing himself.

“So much.”

His hands are already getting rid of Luis pants and under clothes, and despite the very excited cock in his immediate vicinity Hubert’s attention instead goes to the other man's thighs.

The flesh of his thighs is just as scared as the rest of Luis’ body, but it does little to stop Hubert from covering the skin in kisses of adoration.

Hubert’s own actions cause him to blush, something he would be unable to do perhaps, if he knew Luis was fully aware, but here and now it’s okay to let himself go, to worship his husband in every way which he deserves.

Pale lips repeatedly pressing to the darken thighs.

He only stops himself when he hears the fervent moan from the man above him. The other’s cock is leaking precum like a faucet, and from how tight Hubert’s own pants feel it’s clearly time for him to move on.

Hubert doesn’t waste time changing. There’s simply no point. He unzips his pants, and pulls his own cock free from it’s confines. It’s lithe, skinny but a total 7 inches in length, and very veiny, totally different from Luis’ own cock. Unlike his husband, Luis is smaller and smooth, barely 5 ½ inches, but incredibly thick, so much so Hubert almost needs to use both hands to stroke him.

“On my lap.”

The order obeyed, Luis carefully finding himself on Hubert’s lap, legs spread on either side, both cocks inches away from touching.

Hubert considers, for a moment, bucking his hips upward to nudge his cock. He’s curious as to how Luis would respond to it, but he holds back the urge.

He’s far more interested in seeing Luis’ reactions to their main act. And the other man had already gone through the trouble of preparing himself beforehand.

Gloved hands go, groping at the other's soft bubble butt. There’s a slight slickness, the lube Luis had used before, it dampens Hubert’s gloves, but he doesn’t mind as he finally begins to remove them.

Stained black fingers dance across the soft skin. He takes a deep breath before…

Hubert doesn’t order Luis to kiss him.

He doesn’t need to. The moment their lips connect Luis is kissing back.

It seems the spell has broken.

Perhaps Luis was simply too strong, or Hubert lost his concentration, or a mix of both factors.

Spell broken or no, the other man is eager.

He moans against Hubert’s lips, hips rocking gently forward, his cock lightly pressing against Hubert’s own.

It’s a familiar sensation.

A familiar neediness and urgency.

When they part Hubert’s not at all surprised to see that bashful yet loving smile looking up at him.

Luis arms wrap themselves around Hubert, he leans in head resting on the others shoulder.

“Love me?”

Both a request and a command from the smaller man.

Always “love me” always “can we make love” always romantic always soft.

Everything Luis needs, and everything Hubert would never willingly admit to needing in return.

“Of course.”

Soft. Dutiful.

Hubert refuses to disappoint.

#Hubert Von Vestra #Hubert Von Vestra/OC #Hubert #OCxCanon #OC/Canon #OC: Luis Vorona #Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Fire Emblem: Three Houses #Fire Emblem: 3 Houses #Fire Emblem 3 Houses

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frauleinsmaria · 6 years ago

Text

The Facebook Flub (3/4)

Summary: When Emma accidentally sends a friend request to the wrong person, she doesn’t expect much to come of it. But maybe this accident is the best decision she’s ever made.

Rated T

Part 1: AO3 | Tumblr |

Part 2: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 3: AO3

A/N: Hi, yes, I know it's been a while. Sorry about that. All I can say is that retail management is hard and has taken quite the toll on my energy and my muse over the past few weeks. The good news is that things are starting to look up, and I expect to have the fourth and final chapter finished soonish. (Yes, it's four parts now instead of three. I can't believe I expected this to be a one-shot for a while there.)

Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, much thanks to @ultraluckycatnd for providing beta duties <3

The first week or so after Killian’s return to London went by too quickly for her to fully absorb his absence. Between tracking down a high profile skip, dealing with a leak in her water heater, and helping David and Mary Margaret prepare for Leo’s upcoming birthday party, she had little energy at the end of the day for more than a brief conversation with him before going straight to bed.

As expected, her brother hadn’t been thrilled to hear from his wife that not only had Killian spent the weekend staying with her, but that they were now more than friends as well. She did think it helped that Killian had met David and gotten on his good side before any of this development happened. Emma would just tell Killian to bring up the Orioles if David ever tried to be intimidating again.

It wasn’t until things returned back to normal that Emma’s guilt began to sink in. She and Killian had made the decision to try being long-distance just days ago, and she already felt like a horrible girlfriend. (The term still seemed weird when referring to herself. A good weird, though, a weird that made her heart skip a beat and her stomach swoop whenever it crossed her mind. She hadn’t been anyone’s girlfriend in years.)

She shared as much with Killian during a phone call on the first night she had both time and energy to hold a coherent discussion. “Are you sure you’re still up to make this work with a girl who’s barely talked to you in over a week?”

“Love, I know you’ve had quite a few things to keep you preoccupied lately. Besides, I’m in this for the long haul. Even with your disorganized cabinets and liking for overly processed breakfast pastries.”

Emma didn’t have to question his statement to know it was true. He really was all in as long as she was willing. “Good to know. Although I’ll never understand what Pop Tarts have done to you to deserve such wrath.”

“Do you truly not pay attention to the taste while you’re eating them, Swan? It’s like chewing sugar-coated chemicals.”

“And I love them.”

Their routine soon went back to what it had been before Killian’s visit: late night calls, Netflix binges, a FaceTime session when he tried to walk her through a lasagna recipe for dinner at Ruby’s. The only difference was the sense of longing that inevitably set in after being together and then apart from the person she’d come to care for more than she’d thought was possible.

It was so different before. She hadn’t known what it was like to look him in the eyes, to share space with him, to kiss him and feel his skin against her own. Emma often had to remind herself to take just one step at a time. While their relationship might have been a long time coming, it was still new and they were only just beginning to figure out the specifics of this thing between them. Of course it felt normal to miss him, but she was making an effort not to be one of those people who spent every waking moment thinking about their significant other. Some days were harder to do that than others, but it didn’t hurt that she had a job and family and friends to keep her busy when they weren’t spending time with each other.

Killian gave her the news at the beginning of October. It was a Tuesday that felt more like a Monday- her coffee pot had kicked the bucket that morning, she had fallen while chasing a skip later that day and torn a hole in her favorite pair of jeans, and she’d been dealing with cramps from hell all day.

She was relaying all of this to Killian over the phone when she arrived home that evening. Upon entering her apartment, she’d dropped her bag and coat in the hallway and made a beeline for the freezer, her phone tucked between her chin and shoulder as she dug out the pint of Phish food she’d been saving for a special (or particularly awful) occasion. The only thing she’d eaten for lunch was a salad with stale crackers, so it felt like she earned this.

“So, basically, I just wanna eat my ice cream and watch Netflix and ignore the rest of the world unless it has good news for me.”

“I’m sorry you had such a rubbish day, love,” said Killian. “Although I do have something to share that you might consider good news.”

“Please, I’m all ears.”

“Well, I suppose I should ask first if you’re doing anything the last weekend of the month?”

Emma glanced up at the calendar hanging on her fridge that she haphazardly scribbled appointments and birthdays on from time to time. Nothing was written down for the days he’d mentioned. “I’m all clear.”

“Good. I was hoping you might be up for having company.”

It took her a moment to process his words. “Wait, seriously?!”

“Aye. Liam and I finally got a chance to discuss those vacation days I mentioned to you before I left. Luckily enough, this seems like the best time to use them before everything picks up for the holidays.”

Killian was right, he had mentioned trying to visit again sooner than later on that morning she’d taken him to the airport. She’d known he was serious, but hadn’t expected him to work things out quite so soon. “So I can have you to myself all weekend again?”

“Indeed. We can make cupcakes again if you want.”

“So you’re staying at my place again and expecting to get lucky? Making me chocolate cupcakes is the least you can do, Jones.”

Their routine saw little change over the next few weeks aside from the excitement of knowing when they would get to see each other again. Of course some things were still tricky, especially when there would be an unexpected change in their work schedules or social lives, but the distance and time spent apart were a bit easier to deal with by a glance at her calendar and the red circle she’d marked around that particular weekend.

Emma was at the bathroom sink getting ready for bed when a Voice Calling request from WhatsApp popped up on her phone screen. It wasn’t a surprise to see Killian’s name since he was the only person she used the app to talk to, but she hadn’t expected to hear from him so late the night before his flight to Boston.

She finished washing her makeup off and quickly patted her face dry with a towel before answering. “Killian?”

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Emma, happy birthday to you.”

“Barely midnight and I’m getting serenaded to already? Twenty-eight is off to a great start.” She knew Killian would be gloating if he could see the grin on her face. “Thank you, Killian. But why are you awake? Insomnia aside, it’s five in the morning for you, and you have a flight this afternoon.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane. Besides, I’d feel like a sorry boyfriend if I wasn’t the first person to tell you happy birthda-” the sentence was cut off as she heard him yawn through the phone.

“Uh huh. Argue all you want, but I think you need to sleep now.”

Killian sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, love.”

“Of course. Either way, it’s my birthday; being right about everything is part of the territory.” He knew better than to object. “Thank you again for calling, but seriously, go to bed. I’ll see you at the airport this afternoon.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes, my love.”

Emma never would have pictured herself to be the kind of person who ran through a crowded airport to throw her arms around someone. (She’d probably made fun of people who did as much on occasion.) Yet that’s exactly what she did the moment she saw Killian enter the waiting area that afternoon. The excitement of being with him again drowned out any rational thoughts as she bolted towards him and nearly knocked him over with the impact of her hug.

She heard his bag drop to the floor beside them as he pulled her close. “Bloody hell, this is quite the welcome.”

“Sorry.” She quickly pulled back. Her face burned with the realization of what she must have looked like, all but throwing herself at a man she’d been dating no more than a month. Was she going to make him regret coming to see her before they even made it out of the airport?

“Hey.” She’d glanced down, but Killian placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up until their eyes met. “I’m not complaining. It’s nice to see you apparently missed me as much as I did you.” He leaned in to catch her lips in a quick kiss, chaste considering the location, but enough to leave her head spinning. “Happy birthday, Swan.”

“Thank you. Even if there’s not a song to go along with it this time.”

“I could still sing for you if you want. Who knows, someone might record it and we could go viral.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m content with living in anonymity for now.”

“Suit yourself, love.”

They headed back to her apartment where Emma suspected they would remain for the rest of the day. Killian had insisted on taking her to do something for her birthday while he was there, but she’d suggested they at least wait until Thursday- he would have denied her claims if she mentioned it, but she could tell he was exhausted, whether it be from jet lag, overall lack of sleep, or both. There were noticeable lines around his eyes and she knew he yawned quite a few times on the drive home when he thought she wasn’t looking.

But any evidence of his fatigue was gone the moment they entered her apartment. As soon as the door shut behind them, Killian captured her lips in a kiss that made her head spin, his hands going to her waist as he pressed her up against the wall.

The kiss was somehow soft, but not without the burning passion she’d felt the last time they’d kissed, really kissed, brief, chaste moments at the airport not included. This time, she wasn’t worried over her feelings for him or getting ready to tell him goodbye. He was there, he cared about her, he wanted her, and they had each other to themselves for the next four days. Emma’s hands went to his shoulders and she sighed happily against his lips.

She broke the kiss when the need to breathe became unbearable. “Wow. I guess I really was missed.”

“You have no idea. I wanted to do that at the airport, but, y’know, public indecency and all,” he smirked.

“Good thing we’re not in public anymore then.” She kissed him again before he could respond.

They didn’t make it to her room this time, all but collapsing onto the couch and coming together, the culmination of their time apart and anticipation over finally being reunited again. It wasn’t unlike the kiss they’d just shared, soft and tender yet providing the realization that no one had ever been able to set Emma’s pulse racing quite like him.

“Yeah, maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t kiss me like that at the airport.” After, she and Killian had both changed into sweatpants and settled in front of the TV. He had chosen one of their favorite episodes of The Office and she laid curled up against his side, her head pillowed on his chest.

“I told you, love.”

The episode was halfway over when he asked, “Why am I feeling as if we’re a middle aged couple who does nothing but sit in front of their TV?” He attempted to fein concern, but she could tell he found it funny.

Emma laughed. “Because that’s usually what we do. TV is easy to bond over. I have a few things in mind we can do this weekend since you won’t have work stuff though.”

“Aye. I like my job, but I must admit it’s nice to not have to worry about it for a few days.”

“Yeah, you have me to take up your time instead.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The rest of their evening saw no differences other than ordering a pizza for dinner, and Killian nodding off on her shoulder just after eight. It was all Emma could do to pull him up off of the couch and guide him down the hall to her room in his half-asleep state. He collapsed onto the bed without ceremony, snoring before his head hit the pillow. She couldn’t help but smile as she snapped a picture for him to see later before crawling under the covers to join him.

Killian’s reaction to her alarm the next morning was not unlike his feelings toward his own the morning after their first night together. “Make it stop, love,” he groaned, voice thick with sleep as her phone rang incessantly.

She rubbed her eyes and reached over to grab her phone from the nightstand, disabling the alarm. The noise abruptly stopped. Killian let out a sigh of relief, then groaned again when she made to get up. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back down to him. “C’mon, Swan. Five more minutes?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. (Or she thought she did; in her caffeine-deprived state, she couldn’t be sure of anything just yet.) He sounded more like a child than a grown man in his thirties. “Uh uh. I know how this works: five minutes turns into fifteen, then thirty. Next thing you know, I’m an hour late for work.”

“Aye, but don’t you technically make your own hours?”

“Most of the time, yes. But I need to go in and take care of some things for this case so I won’t have to worry about it over the weekend. Trust me, I have no desire to work today either, but this afternoon, I’ll be all yours until Sunday.”

“Good to know. If I recall correctly, we still have a birthday to celebrate.”

“Sure do.” She leaned over and kissed him before finally getting out of bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower, so why don’t you try to go back to sleep? I’ll make sure to come tell you bye before I leave.”

He yawned and mumbled something that sounded like, “If you insist,” before rolling over onto his side. His breathing had evened out again before she left the room.

She left her spare key on the kitchen counter for Killian for when he became tired of sitting around in the apartment. It wasn’t much of a surprise when she received a text around lunchtime.

Hello, Swan. I hope your work day is going smoothly. I’m going for a walk around the city to get some fresh air and caffeine. Anything you’d like for me to bring back?

Just yourself. Something tells me I’m going to be ready to leave for a good meal as soon as I get home tonight.

No Granny’s this time?

Nope. I love Ruby, but there’s no way I’m giving her an opportunity to invade this time.

Good point.

She left work as soon as she could and went back to the apartment to get ready for the birthday dinner Killian had talked her into. They still hadn’t decided on a restaurant, which Emma realized would probably come to be a problem if they tried to go somewhere popular without a reservation beforehand. She wasn’t all that concerned about it though. The main thing was getting to celebrate with him, and most of her favorite restaurants in the city may not be likely to draw a huge crowd on a Thursday night.

Killian was on the couch flipping through her battered copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone when she entered the apartment. “Nice choice. But I assume you’ve read that, like, a million times being English and all,” she commented, plopping down beside him and pressing her lips to his cheek.

He was wearing a black button-down shirt and jeans. Emma found herself wondering yet again how such simple colors suited him so well. (So well to the point that she almost considered suggesting they stay home for the evening.)

“Oh, I’d say I’ve read them about half a dozen times at least. I was simply curious to see if there were any significant changes to your addition, other than the whole “sorcerer’s stone instead of philosopher’s” thing.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

“Eh, most of the fundamental aspects are the same. The only thing I’ve really noticed is a few English terms they changed for the American edition- nap instead of lie-in, elevator instead of lift. And taking the “u” out of words like “color” and “favorite”.”

Emma didn’t think she’d ever get over the way American terms sounded coming from him. She’d always had a thing for accents, and Killian’s was no different. Not that she planned on giving him the satisfaction of saying as much.

“As much as I actually want to sit and hear more about this, I’m starving. Give me a bit to get ready and I’ll be good to go.”

“Take your time, love. Any idea where you’d prefer to go yet?”

“I’m thinking Italian. There’s a place nearby that makes this really great margherita pizza I haven’t had in awhile. It’s great.”

“Sounds like a plan...as long as you’re not one of those people who likes pineapple on pizza. I may have to consider this whole relationship if that’s the case.”

“Have a little faith in me, Killian. I’m not that weird.”

“Just weird enough to nearly cook an oven mitt and confuse parsley with cilantro?”

He chuckled as she whacked his arm with a couch cushion before standing and heading to her room to get ready. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

After a quick shower, Emma changed into jeans and one of her nicer blouses. She hadn’t felt like taking the time and effort to wash her hair, so it was hastily styled into a braid that fell over her right shoulder. The only makeup she bothered with was mascara and lip gloss, taking advantage of her skin being clear that day.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she told Killian, entering the living room after she’d pulled on a pair of ankle boots and her red leather jacket.

She would have sworn his eyes lit up a bit when he looked up and saw her. Despite his constant physical and verbal affection since they’d gotten together, it still came as a surprise at times that he truly wanted her and shared her feelings. It was enough to make her feel like she could melt into a puddle right there on the living room floor.

(Or maybe not. They’d established during his last visit that making big messes in her apartment was a bad idea. The melting would have to be kept to a minimum.)

Killian set the book to the side and stood, pulling on his own leather jacket that had been draped across the coffee table. She walked over to him and he kissed her softly, taking her hand and giving it a brief squeeze. “You look stunning, Swan.”

“Thanks.” Emma ran her hand up and down his arm, the material of his jacket surprisingly soft. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“I know.” He smirked and she whacked her arm playfully against his chest.

“Looks like modesty isn’t one of your biggest traits.”

He considered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps not, but I make exceptional cupcakes.”

The way his eyebrows waggled almost made Emma reconsider going out after all. But the restaurant didn’t deliver, and she wanted her damn birthday pizza. They had almost three days left to hide away in the apartment and test his cupcake making abilities.

They opted to walk to the Italian place she’d chosen. She knew better than to try looking for a parking spot downtown at that point in the evening, and there was no need to call an Uber to drive them a handful of blocks away.

Much to Emma’s relief, the restaurant wasn’t busy when they arrived, the typical after work dinner crowd already come and gone it seemed. The waiter gave them a table in the room’s front corner, a choice that both gave them a bit of privacy and allowed them to observe anything happening on the streets outside.

She didn’t hesitate to order the biggest margherita pizza on the menu. Killian had already told her earlier that’s what he wanted too, and it was her birthday. Well, technically not anymore. But that wouldn’t prevent her from acting like it was all weekend.

While they waited, Emma told him how she’d discovered the restaurant with her friends a few years earlier. “It was Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party. We’d been at the bar, but I got us kicked out when some creep tried to get handsy with Ruby and I stepped in and punched him. Yes, the owner cared more about defending the guy more than he did the fact that he’d harassed her,” she added at the disturbed look on Killian’s face. “Anyway, we were all tipsy and pissed off and hungry when we left, and somehow ended up here and ate our weight in pizza until about two in the morning.”

“It sounds as if your evening ended on a pleasant note at least. Although I hope both of those blokes got their arses handed to them later.”

“Oh, that’s the best part. The bar closed down due to bankruptcy a few months later, and not long after, I got to drag the other guy in for not showing up at his court date.”

Killian barked out a laugh. “Good riddance. You are incredible, Swan.”

He laughed again at her giddy reaction when the pizza was brought out a few minutes later, even snapping a picture on his phone when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Judge all you want.” She pulled off a slice and took a rather generous bite, savoring the taste of mozzarella and tomatoes. “You know food makes me happy,” she added, the words muffled through the pizza.

“Aye, that’s why I took the photo. I happen to quite like seeing you happy, about food or otherwise.” And he meant it. Emma had always been the type to deflect compliments or nice remarks from men, instead questioning what it was that they hoped to get from her in return. But she’d never felt the need to do that with Killian. Everything he said to her was honest and genuine, and for the first time in years, she was in a relationship where she felt truly at ease.

(Did she love him?)

“You make me happy.” It was the closest she could get to summing up her thoughts without overthinking it. Maybe she did love him, if she was being honest with herself, but that didn’t mean she needed to blurt out the words over pizza when they’d barely been dating a month.

Before she could overthink things, Emma quickly changed the subject to his job and the projects he and Liam had been working on. If she were being honest, she didn’t fully understand what the company did outside of the basic facts, but she still enjoyed listening to him talk about his responsibilities and the business deals they made. Maybe she was biased, but she knew without a doubt that Killian was great at what he did based on his knowledge of the basic mechanics of ships and the effort he put into his responsibilities. He was pretty fantastic, and yet somehow, he wanted to be with her.

(Yeah, she loved him. It was pointless to tell herself any different. She was a goner, and had been for awhile now.)

Dinner was followed by gelato from an ice cream shop down the street and a walk around the neighborhood, their fingers intertwined as Emma pointed out a few things and places she hadn’t shown him during his last visit. It occurred to her that the two of them probably looked like one of those couples from a Hallmark movie that she’d rolled her eyes at countless times before. Now, it only made her smile and give his hand an affectionate squeeze. How had she become such a romantic now?

“Have you enjoyed your evening, Swan?” Killian asked when they returned to the apartment later.

Emma kicked off her boots as soon as the door shut behind them. “Of course. Hot guy and good food, what’s not to love?”

It was hard not to laugh at the expression on his face when she made no move to pick up her shoes. She could almost see him itching to grab them up off the floor and put them in their designated place on her shoe rack. (As if she had a shoe rack. More like a shoe pile at best.) The irony of someone like her dating a neat freak was not lost on Emma. At least he was a good sport.

“I’m glad to hear that. Which reminds me, I have something in my suitcase for you.”

“You do? Why?” She dropped unceremoniously onto the couch and propped her socked feet up on the coffee table, Killian following suit.

“Honestly, love, did you really think I was coming to help celebrate your birthday without bringing you something to commemorate the occasion?”

Frankly, yes. Hadn’t he already gone to enough trouble just by taking the time off and flying out to Boston? She told him so and he shrugged. “I wouldn’t call that trouble. I wanted to see you, after all.”

“Still,” she insisted, “you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. I think you might get a kick out of it too.”

“Okay, you’ve got my attention now.”

“In that case, I might as well show you. Just a moment, love.”

Killian disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a square white box in his hands. “I hope you’ll forgive me for the lack of festive wrapping; I worried it would look worse for wear after being tucked in my suitcase.”

“Considering I don’t even try to wrap presents that aren’t Leo’s anymore, you are forgiven.”

He handed her the box after sitting back down. Emma quickly pulled off the lid and let out an excited giggle when she saw what was inside. “Is this what I think it its?”

It was a Funko Pop figure of Goose from Captain Marvel, the cat she’d mentioned her liking for during their first conversation via Facebook. Except this version had its mouth wide open with Flerken tentacles protruding from it.

“Aye. I remembered Goose being one of your favorite things about the film and couldn’t pass this up when I came across it online. Of course they have a version that makes him look like an ordinary cat, but something told me you might prefer this one for its, how would you say it, badassery?”

Emma laughed again at the sound of the word coming from his lips. “Badassery indeed. Thank you, Killian. This is great.”

“You really like it?”

“Of course I do. You’re so ridiculously thoughtful. I love you.”

It took her a moment to realize what she’d just said, the words leaving her lips without restraint. She quickly looked away from Killian, but not soon enough to see the way he stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted, clearly just as surprised.

Oh boy. She’d gone and blown it now, and just when things were going so well. Just because she’d started to accept the extent of her feelings when they were at the restaurant earlier didn’t mean she needed to turn around and tell him all of this so soon.

“I, erm,” Emma stammered, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I just meant-”

She was cut off as Killian leaned in to kiss her. This must be a good sign, she thought as his hands cupped her face softly.

“Did you mean that, Swan?” he asked when they pulled apart a moment later, his forehead resting against hers.

Emma felt the corners of her mouth turn up just the slightest bit. “Do you really think I would have said it if I didn’t?” she teased. “Yes, I meant it. Maybe it’s too soon and you’ll think I’m crazy for it, but it’s all starting to hit me now, how kind and funny and sweet and thoughtful you are, not to mention insanely hot even when you are infuriating. So yes, I love you, Killian.”

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face almost sinful. “Insanely hot, eh?”

She rolled her eyes and acted as if to pull away from him when he reached over and took her hand in his. “Bloody hell, Swan. I’ve known I loved you for longer than you’d know. Possibly even when you sent me that first Facebook message all those months ago asking how we knew each other.”

“You loved me when all you knew was that I had decent taste in movies?”

“Something like that can be a dealbreaker. What if I didn’t have high standards and found myself stuck with someone who made us watch Transformers for the rest of our lives?”

The “rest of their lives” comment didn’t go unnoticed, Emma’s pulse picking up speed ever so slightly even as she gasped dramatically. “In that case, I’m so glad I saved you from a life of Michael Bay productions.”

“And I’m immensely grateful.” He brought their still joined hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “In all seriousness, though, I do love you, Swan.”

It was still hard for Emma to comprehend how a simple mix up on Facebook had changed so much about their lives. “And I love you. Even more so if you hand me the remote from the end table so we can see what’s on Netflix.”

“As you wish, my love.”

Thanks to her having the rest of the weekend off, she and Killian’s agenda on Friday consisted of little besides hiding away in the apartment in front of her TV (occasionally watching whatever was on, mostly distracted by other sorts of enjoyable activities.) Saturday would have been no different had Mary Margaret not called and insisted the two of them come over for lunch.

“We haven’t done anything for your birthday yet. Plus, David and Ruby both got to meet Killian during his last visit. It’s only fair I get to this time,” her sister-in-law had insisted.

“He’s been in town for more than two days; I’m surprised you’ve waited this long to make plans with us.” Part of her had expected a request like this the minute Killian’s flight had landed.

“Well, I had every intention of trying earlier, but David was afraid we’d catch you at a bad time so soon after he arrived with you two not seeing each other in so long and everything.”

Remind me to get David two Christmas gifts this year Emma thought to herself as she and Mary Margaret finalized their plans. Although maybe she was being too hopeful. Her brother hadn’t exactly been easy on Killian the first time they’d met, and that was before their friendship had grown into something else. (She made a mental note to have Killian bring up the Orioles as much as possible.)

“Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?” Emma asked him as she parked the bug outside David and Mary Margaret’s building. “I mean, I already know you’re going to say yes because of what kind of person you are, but they can be ridiculously overbearing.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Swan. I’m glad for the chance to spend time with people who mean so much to you.” He chuckled and added, “Besides, I know Liam would be the same should our roles ever be reversed.” Killian’s brother was his hero and someone he brought up often in their conversations, whether it be pertaining to their jobs or otherwise. She had no idea if going to London to visit him would be within her means any time soon, but the thought of meeting Liam and the other members of Killian’s family like he was about to meet hers made Emma smile.

“Here goes nothing,” Emma said once they’d exited the car. “Remember-”

“I know, Swan. Heavy on the baseball talk, light on the innuendoes.”

“Bingo.”

Much to her relief, the afternoon went over well. Mary Margaret adored Killian right off of the bat, and Leo was so insistent on keeping his attention that neither she nor David managed to get a chance to interrogate him or make comments that could send him running back across the pond.

“I gotta say, he seems to be a decent guy.” Emma and David were in the kitchen washing dishes after lunch while Leo performed whatever he’d learned in gymnastics that week for Killian and Mary Margaret. Thankfully, he spent enough time with his own nieces and nephew that the four-year-old’s antics didn’t seem to phase him.

“He’s great. And thanks for not going too Protective Big Brother on him again today.”

He was silent for a moment, lost in thought as he scrubbed at a plate and passed it to her to be rinsed and dried. “Admittedly, I think I did enough of that the last time. Plus, Mary Margaret made me promise to be easy on him.”

“Good for her.” Emma glanced over her shoulder and saw her sister-in-law laughing at whatever Killian had just said to charm her. “I think she loves him about as much as I do.”

She saw David raise an eyebrow out of the corner of her eye. “So it’s really serious then? You love him?”

“I do. I know it’s crazy with how we met and things are still new and we’re still figuring out how this is gonna work with an ocean between us. But, yeah. I love him.”

“In that case, I’m happy for you, Emma. I really am.” She knew he’d be wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead were both of his hands not submerged in dish water. “But if he ever hurts you-”

“I know, you’ll make him swim back to London.”

“Darn right.”

The last part of their weekend flew by as quickly as the first, much to both of their chagrin. “I swear it feels like I just picked you up from the airport,” Emma murmured against his shoulder when they woke up on Sunday morning.

“I was just thinking the same. What’s that they say, time flies when you’re having fun and all?”

“Mhm,” she sighed. “Something like that.”

“I’m so glad I got to come see you again, though. Especially without work and meetings taking up so much of my time.”

“And you came out of family lunch unscathed too,” she pointed out. “I think Mary Margaret intentionally kept you preoccupied with her and Leo so David wouldn’t have a chance to do any interrogating.”

“I would have sat through an interrogation regardless just for that apple pie.”

“It is pretty incredible,” she agreed. “Don’t tell Mary Margaret, but I think David would have married her for that alone.”

“It wouldn’t be difficult to believe.”

With Killian’s flight being earlier in the afternoon, they didn’t have as much time to themselves left as both of them would have preferred. After grabbing breakfast (or brunch realistically at that point) at a cafe near the airport, Emma found herself telling him goodbye in the parking lot again.

“You’ll shoot me a message when you land?” she asked when Killian had retrieved his things from the back of her car.

“Aye. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to talk sometime tonight if my estimated arrival time doesn’t change.”

Emma nodded. “I’d like that. But if it’s late, go on to bed when you get home. You know your sleep schedule is going to be more discombobulated than it already is for the next few days.”

“Worth it.” Killian flashed her a smile and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m not exactly sure when I’ll be able to visit again. The holidays always complicate things at work a bit, and it won’t be long before Liam and Belle begin informing me of all the events and family gatherings I’m expected to attend.

“Of course. It wouldn’t be Christmas without Uncle Killy.” She pulled back and snickered at the exasperated look on his face. He’d mentioned in a previous conversation that Liam called him that from time to time and he hated it.

“For the last time, Swan, they do not call me that.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take an opportunity to tease you about it.” Emma stood up on her toes to kiss him softly. “We’ll figure something out though, okay? Maybe bail bonds will be good to me soon and I can afford to come across the pond for a few days. I’ve always wanted to see cars drive on the other side of the road.”

“How very American of you.”

“Maybe so. But you love me for it.”

“I do.”

Thanks to Killian’s flight proceeding as scheduled, Emma found herself on the phone with him later that night. Spider-Man: Homecoming played on both of their respective TV screens while she gave him her unofficial lecture detailing why Tom Holland was the best actor to date that the franchise had cast in the title role.

“I mean, look at it this way: Tobey MaGuire was a fine Peter Parker. He had the acting skills to play the nerdy kid who was just struggling to get through high school, but he just didn’t have that level of confidence you need to play a superhero. Then you have Andrew Garfield, who was the complete opposite. Sure, he’s got the wit and the confidence to be Spider-Man, but his Peter comes off too much like one of the cool kids. And as much as I love him, Peter Parker is not considered all that cool. He wouldn’t be bullied constantly if that were the case.”

“And Tom Holland manages to find a happy medium between the two,” Killian finished.

“Exactly!”

She heard him chuckling through the phone. “I’m glad we agree on this, love. Otherwise, I worry you may disown me.”

“Eh, I’m not sure I would go to that extreme. But it would put an awkward strain on things considering the MCU is pretty much a third party in this relationship.”

She and Killian did sort of owe the franchise for being the reason they met. Sure, Emma probably would have noticed him on her Facebook page sooner or later and reached out to inquire about who he was, but their first interaction stemming from Captain Marvel was special to her. It didn’t hurt that she now had Goose in Flerken-mode sitting on the shelf above her TV to remind her of him.

Not only was she turning into a romantic, he’d gone and made her all sentimental now too.

Over the next handful of weeks, they tried to keep up the same routine they’d had before of regular calls, texts, or FaceTimes. But, just as he’d predicted, Killian’s obligations and responsibilities both in and out of the office began to increase as they got further into November.

To her surprise, so did Emma’s. She rarely struggled to find work in bail bonds (no matter what happened, there was always someone evading the law.) But while crime rates usually tended to remain the same if not decrease during the colder months, the list of skips on her radar had grown considerably. The added work wasn’t a problem since she could use the money it brought in, but the change in pace on both sides, not to mention the time difference, meant planned phone calls and FaceTime dates were often missed for one reason or another.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, it had been almost a week since they’d had a legitimate conversation outside of brief texts sent whenever they had a moment to themselves. Of course problems like these could only be expected with an ocean and a five hour difference between them, but Emma hadn’t been prepared to face them so early in their relationship.

The whole thing was on her mind when she and her girl friends had their own version of Friendsgiving at David and Mary Margaret’s place the night before the actual holiday. They’d ordered Chinese takeout and were eating in the living room, Mean Girls quickly forgotten while they updated each other on their lives.

“What about you, Ems?” Ruby asked when Elsa had finished sharing the details of her upcoming trip to Norway. “I know there’s gotta be something to share about that British hunk of yours.” She shot Emma a wolfish grin. Of course this would be Ruby’s first question; she’d been asking for regular updates on Killian since the day she ran into he and Emma at Granny’s.

Emma shrugged. “There’s not much to share lately. One of us is always busy when the other’s not, so we haven’t really talked or anything nearly as much as we would have liked to over the past few weeks.”

“Will you get to see him for Christmas or New Years?” Elsa asked, a kind smile on her face. While Emma loved both Ruby and Mary Margaret, she appreciated knowing Elsa was asking because she genuinely cared, not because she wanted all the juicy details on her love life.

“Probably not. Even with me taking on extra work, a ticket to London is still kind of out of my budget, and Killian will have work stuff and plans with his brother’s family.” She failed to include that Killian had hinted around at opting out of his plans so he could visit, but she’d shut that idea down right away. The idea of taking him away from his family at the holidays seemed selfish, even if he’d been the one to make the suggestion.

“I’m sure everyone in a long distance relationship has these kind of issues from time to time,” offered Mary Margaret. “Hopefully things will slow down again after the first of the year and you two can go back to normal.”

Emma decided not to tell her sister-in-law just how far off the first of the year felt. There wasn’t a chance, though, since her phone began to vibrate where she’d left it on the coffee table. She knew before looking at the caller ID from WhatsApp that it was Killian.

She swore under her breath. Either she hadn’t mentioned her plans tonight to Killian, or it had slipped his mind. “Great timing. Sorry, guys. I’ll tell him it has to wait.”

“No!” all three of her friends exclaimed in unison.

“Friendsgiving be damned. You see us all the time, Emma,” said Ruby. “Now take the chance to talk to your boyfriend while you’ve got it.”

She drove a hard bargain.

Emma stood from the couch and slipped into David and Mary Margaret’s kitchen. She tapped the answer icon and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Killian.”

“Hello, Swan.” He sounded tired. If she could see him, Emma knew he’d be rubbing his eyes while trying to hold back a yawn. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m with the girls, but they can survive without me for a bit.”

“Oh, bloody hell. You did say something about having plans tonight, didn’t you? I’m sorry, love.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a big deal.”

Killian sighed. She almost wished she had told him she was at home instead just so he wouldn’t feel guilty about calling when he did. “I still feel like a prat for interrupting. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back to your friends? I can always try again for tomorrow night.”

“Killian, don’t beat yourself up about it. I love my friends, but in the words of Ruby, I see them all the time. I’m gonna take advantage of time to talk to you while we can.”

“Aye, well, as long as you don’t feel I’m intruding.”

Emma had always appreciated how considerate he was, but sometimes he could be so polite it was almost infuriating. “You are most definitely not intruding. I’ve missed you. Now tell me about your day- is that new guy with the bad attitude still driving everyone up the wall?”

Taking a seat at David and Mary Margaret’s kitchen table, she sat and listened for the next fifteen or so minutes to his recap of everything he hadn’t gotten the chance to fill her in on yet. Of course it was just a typical work week for him, with no one on his end taking time off for Thanksgiving and Black Friday. She pointed out as much to Killian.

“Ah, that’s right,” he commented. “I presume you have plans with David and Mary Margaret tomorrow?”

“I’m just having brunch with the two of them and Leo. They invited me to dinner with Mary Margaret’s family, but I always feel like I’m imposing whenever I go to something of theirs. That-” she paused and turned to make sure her sister-in-law was preoccupied in conversation before continuing “-and her stepmom kind of freaks me out. You’d think she was the queen or something by the way she talks to people.”

“I suppose it’s best you to keep your distance then, although I wish you didn’t have to spend the rest of the holiday alone. Perhaps I can plan to finish up a bit early at the office and we can watch something together? Or, well, sort of together. Something like that.”

Emma nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” It wasn’t what she really wanted- to see him and have them there with her again- but some things they’d have to make do with for now.

It felt as if the first three weeks of December had come and gone in a heartbeat. A thick blanket of snow covered Boston, as did the myriad of lights and decorations in various shades of red and green. Five days before Christmas, Emma found herself in a corner booth at Granny’s drinking eggnog, surrounded by everyone in their friend group and then some. Ruby had somehow gotten permission to close the diner early for their annual party rather than attempt to crowd into someone’s apartment for a few hours.

The night had been a success so far. Almost everyone Ruby invited had come, and there was more than enough food and alcohol to go around. (Not to mention the entertainment of impromptu Christmas karaoke that was a result of said alcohol.)

Emma enjoyed spending time with her closest friends and reconnecting with ones she hadn’t seen in awhile. One thing she couldn’t help but notice, however, was the amount of couples in the room.

There was David and Mary Margaret, of course, who only had eyes for each other more often than not. Anna and Kristoff were in town for the holidays and had come, and were busy chatting with Graham and his boyfriend, August. (It turned out he was the bartender Graham had been so infatuated with the night she met Killiam James.) Ruby’s on again, off again relationship with Dorothy was clearly on considering the two were not so subtly making out in the restaurant’s back room.

The only other person who seemed to be flying solo was Elsa. She walked over from the bar and took a seat across from Emma, who was now alone in the booth as David and Mary Margaret were (badly) serenading “White Christmas” to each other by the jukebox.

“I’d forgotten what alcohol does to them,” she told Elsa. While she loved her brother and sister-in-law, their duet was a far cry from Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney.

Elsa giggled. “Tell me about it. And Mary Margaret’s going to have the worst hangover tomorrow; they’re both such lightweights.” She turned back to Emma. “I’m more concerned about you looking so lonely over here by yourself though.”

“I’m not lonely,” Emma protested. “I’m just…” she trailed off, not wanting to voice what was really on her mind.

“Missing Killian? I thought so.”

Leave it to Elsa to be so perceptive. She somehow always knew what Emma was thinking about. “I know it’s silly. I mean, I just talked to him earlier and we haven’t been together long enough to where it feels like I should be moping about not spending a holiday with him. But yeah, I miss him a lot.”

“And I doubt the amount of couples in the room does much to help.”

“Oh, good. So I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“Definitely not,” Elsa assured her. “And your feelings aren’t silly. Sure, maybe you haven’t been together as long as couples like David and Mary Margaret or Anna and Kris, but you two had been close for months before you started dating. There’s no timeline your relationship has to follow either. Some couples are engaged after a month, and others wait years before deciding to take the next step. Relationships can be so different for everyone.”

Emma just nodded. Her friend had made too many good points for her to object. “And by different, you mean some people can accidentally meet on Facebook and bond over superheroes.”

Elsa flashed her a grin. “Exactly.”

“I know everything you said is true. I just can’t help but wonder how long this arrangement is going to work out. He’ll only have so many opportunities to come here, and even with me trying to save and cut back when I can, it could be months before I can afford to visit him.” She had considered trying to fly out for his birthday in the spring, but the cost of living in Boston plus a number of repairs to her car were making that idea seem less and less likely.

Her friend was quiet for a moment. “Or we could send you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“David will hate me for telling you this, but we were going to go in together to cover the repairs on the bug since we figured you would appreciate that than something to unwrap. But I have a feeling you’d appreciate getting to spend Christmas with your boyfriend even more.”

Elsa couldn’t be serious. Could she? “That is incredibly sweet of you to offer, but I can’t let you do that. Even if you did go in together, a plane ticket still wouldn’t be cheap, and I’m not sure Killian’s family wants me crashing their holiday plans without notice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elsa objected. “If they have any sense, they’ll be thrilled that Killian has you there to celebrate with him. Give me two minutes to see what we can work out.” She was out of the booth and running over to David and Mary Margaret before Emma had a chance to react.

The idea was unexpected, and even a bit ridiculous if she were being honest.

And yet, the morning before Christmas Eve, Emma found herself being dropped off at the airport by David, just as she’d done for Killian twice now. She’d managed to keep her last minute visit a surprise from him so far. Mary Margaret had somehow gotten in touch via Facebook with Belle, who would be picking her up when she arrived in London.

“I gotta say, I’m surprised you were so willing to agree with Elsa’s idea,” she told her brother as his car pulled into the parking deck.

David shrugged. “The alcohol helped,” he admitted. “Plus, I knew how much getting to do this would mean to you. And to Killian. As much as it would have pained me to admit it at one point, you two are good for each other.”

She leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you think so. Although I’m never gonna be able to make it up to you guys.”

“Don’t worry about making anything up. I wouldn’t mind an autograph from the queen though.”

Emma barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs mc #cs fluff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #meredith writes

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nekojitachan · 6 years ago

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Ghost in You ch2 preview

Ok, unless work blows up on me, I’m hoping to have a new chapter of The Ghost in You up... eee, soonish? I’m out of town next weekend (NYC! Hanging w/ my bestie!) so we’ll see how much time I have for writing and posting. Until then, here’s two scenes - I may post more during the week.

Uhm... think the only triggers are for Mary and vague references to Neil and Andrew’s pasts, past reference to drug use and tending to mild injuries.

*******

“It wasn’t like that,” Neil argued with his mother as he held gauze against the cut on his forehead to staunch the blood. “He was just grateful, it didn’t mean anything more than that.”

The blinds on the small window in the bathroom rattled against the glass as Mary whirled about, her mostly transparent body partially fractured into pieces due to her agitation until she resembled a figure in a badly-jointed, washed-out stained glass window. /That’s not any better, Abram. Gratitude can lead to affection and more./ For a moment her body splintered into thousands of tiny pieces before she reassembled next to him; he fought not to shiver from her nearness, to not flinch when he felt her fingers card through his tangled hair. /Don’t repeat my mistakes, don’t ever repeat my mistakes./ There was a slight tug on the strands for a moment, then she resumed combing through them again.

“I know, Mum, and I won’t,” he promised her with a sad smile. “You’ll never let me.”

/No, I won’t,/ she swore in return before something icy pressed against his forehead, near the gauze, and a mix of love/worry/determination/fear/possessiveness poured into him for a moment. /Tend to that so you can start packing, we need to leave./

He sighed and removed the gauze so he could clean the wound, and focused on tending to it (not bad enough to require stitches, thankfully) and the other scratches, to clean and bandage them so they didn’t get infected. It was something he was used to doing by then, the small injuries inflicted upon him by his mother nothing like the cuts and bullet wounds and fractures he’d suffered from his father or the man’s people before he’d gone to live with Uncle Stuart, and it gave him time to gather his thoughts and come up with an argument against his mother’s latest demand to leave Columbia.

The worst of the scratches tended to, he was debating on if the ones along his left ribs needed band-aids or not when someone rang the doorbell. Mindful of gun in the bedroom, Neil grabbed the sheathed knife he kept stashed on the shelf near the shower holding towels and went to investigate who was at the door – he wasn’t expecting a visitor.

He had to stand on his toes to look out the peephole, and shoved the knife down the back waistband of his pants upon seeing that it was a FedEx deliveryman wearing what appeared to be an authentic uniform. Mary hovered near the side of the door, ready to intervene if needed, as he opened it.

“Neil Josten?” the middle-aged man asked with a friendly smile once he opened the door a slight bit. “I’ve a package for you.” It was on the large size but didn’t look too heavy. “Please sign for it.”

Mary watched as Neil accepted the box, which made the man shiver and complain about the cold, but Neil was reassured when he noticed that the package was from the UK; as soon as he touched it, he could filter through the various layers of people who’d handled it to ‘feel’ Aunt Miriam’s affection and concern. Once it was set inside of the apartment, he entered his name on the electronic device (the sleeves of his sweater extended over his fingers so he didn’t have to endure anymore strange emotions), and nodded as the delivery man wished him a good night before walking away.

/Abram? What is it? Why did you accept it?/

“It’s from Aunt Miriam,” he explained as he picked up the package, wincing a little from the various emotions tied to the box (the people unhappy with their jobs) as well as the tug on various scratches and his sore knees. “Let’s see what she sent, all right?”

/You should be packing,/ Mary reminded him, but without as much force as before, a clear sign that she was curious as well about the box’s contents.

He used the knife to cut the tape on the box, mindful of its contents, and drew in a slow breath when he unfolded the lids and packing paper to reveal a beautiful, pale blue and cream blanket knitted from soft wool in a thick cable stitch pattern bearing the scent of lavender.

/That’s one of your gram’s,/ Mary told him, her face soft with reminiscing. /She made dozens of them, they were all over the house in East London./

“It’s beautiful,” Neil said as he carefully set it on the nearby chair, and revealed carefully wrapped items which turned out to be various knickknacks such as an intricately carved walnut box perfect for holding small items and candlestick holders, a couple of tins of tea, and another blanket of his grandmother’s, that time a grey one with a basket-weave pattern. There was also a note from Aunt Miriam about her wanting to send him a few items to help make his apartment ‘more of a home’.

It would be late in London, so he sent her a text to let her know that everything had arrived safely and to say ‘thank you’, and was surprised when she called back a couple of minutes later as he was carrying the grey blanket to his bed. “You’re still up?”

“We just returned home. How are you doing, Abram?” Miriam sounded a little tired but the affection was clear in her voice; Neil remembered his aunt’s warm hands and bright amber eyes, the way she made him feel comfortable from the start with her gentle smiles and the way she showed concern without being overbearing.

“I’m well, thank you. The new job is challenging but I enjoy helping out the children.”

“I thought that would be a good fit for you.”

“Thank you for the blankets and everything. It’s not quite as cold here in Columbia as London,” at least, not outside, “but they’ll definitely help to brighten up the place and make it more comfortable.”

“That’s good, I was hoping to help you become more settled,” Miriam told him. “You deserve a home at last, there’s no reason to keep running. It’s not right for a young man like you to be so restless, it’s time for you to set down some roots. We’re worried about you and want you to be happy.”

Neil noticed how Mary had gone ‘still’ during the conversation, how she hung in the air like a projection of some kind, so close to him to raise goosebumps on his skin and his breath to condense when he breathed out. “Again, thank you. I don’t want to keep you up so maybe we can talk more tomorrow?”

“You’re always such a thoughtful child, I wish Ally took after you a bit more,” Miriam said with obvious affection and a bit of chagrin. “Do you need a roommate, perchance?”

“Hmm, perhaps I should be moving on….”

His aunt laughed and insisted that she was just teasing, and wished him a good night after promising to call in a day or two. As soon as she hung up, he held the phone against his chest and gazed at his mother. “They’ll wonder if I move on so soon,” he warned; he wasn’t 100% certain that Mary’s brothers could sense ghosts, too, that it was indeed a Hatford trait… but he felt his suspicions firm up when she slowly drifted away instead of insist that he pack the duffel bag so they could leave.

/Brew us some tea, Abram,/ she said instead, /and I’ll tell you a story about your gram./

He smiled as he hurried to obey, content that he’d won a reprieve for the time being.

*******

Abby confirmed what Andrew had suspected, that he had a couple of bruised ribs, which was such a banner way to end the work week, wasn’t it? Then she wrote him a script for some lovely pain pills and muscle relaxers, which made him hate the puzzle that was Neil Josten a little less (a little), cleaned up his scraped palms (he shouldn’t be bothered with such trivial things after everything he’d endured in the past, which meant he was growing soft and so was unacceptable), and walked him to his car. “I don’t see any rough spots where you tripped,” she said as she searched the parking lot. “You must be working too hard, I’m going to tell David to give you the day off on Monday.”

Part of Andrew rebelled at the idea, of him not being there for the kids, but each time he drew in a breath there was a stab of pain along the left side of his chest, which he knew would be there for at least a couple of weeks at best. As much as he hated the feeling of letting the kids down, it made sense to rest up over the weekend and Monday rather than having things drag things out too long. “Those meds better be good,” he gritted out past the pain.

There was a flash of offense in Abby’s brown eyes before she shook her head. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, do I?” She helped him to the GS and even into the driver’s seat before she spoke again. “You need to heal before you can work again, all right? I know you worry about the kids, but listen to me and take it easy for a few days. David will make sure that everything is covered here.” She looked as if she wanted to lean in and give him a kiss on the forehead or a hug before she reconsidered. “Call me if you need anything. Anything.”

He managed a curt salute, and only because he knew she was sincere about that ‘anything’ before he closed the door and started the car; he wanted to go to the nearest pharmacy, get the prescriptions filled, then go home and collapse into his bed for the entire weekend as soon as possible.

Well, he did need to fire off an email to Renee at some point, but first, pain meds.

At least it didn’t take long to get the damn prescriptions filled, during which he hobbled around the store and grabbed a few things to tide him over for the weekend (heating pad, lots of ice cream and chocolate, hot patches for his ribs, so on and so forth) while the pharmacy worked its magic. He had Uber Eats prepare an order for him on the way home, so a few minutes after he reached his apartment, the food was delivered (enough take-out to last him the next three days), and after eating some cheese and jalapeño pizza, he grabbed a pint of ice cream while he typed out an email to Renee asking her what the fuck was going on at work – with the new guy, especially.

Then he took some meds and went to bed.

For once Abby had done some good, because despite the pain and discomfort, he slept through the night and into the morning, spared any disquieting dreams for once, and got up to relieve his bladder then stand beneath the hot water long enough for some of the stiffness to fade away before he had enough coffee, muscle relaxers and breakfast burritos that he felt semi-human to look at his phone to see what he’d missed during the last ten hours or so spent unconscious.

Nicky had called him, which wasn’t much of a surprise, as had Kevin and Roland… and Renee. Only the last caused a flicker of annoyance, since he’d hoped to talk to her about what the hell her cryptic emails meant and if she had any idea what was going on with a certain Neil Josten, how he could have made Andrew’s ribs become bruised without even touching him.

Even worse? She merely left a voicemail about how she was sorry to miss him and would arrange something for him until she could speak to him again, and hoped that he was well. He had a few dark thoughts about her untimely sabbatical as he deleted the message while he slurped his sugary caffeine concoction while he debated on if he wanted to stretch out on his bed or the couch.

The couch won out (closer to the coffee maker and one bathroom), where he spent several hours drifting in and out of a comfortable haze from the pain pills and muscle relaxers while the television played on in the background until a loud knocking noise interrupted his semi-doze.

He pulled the microfleece blanket which Nicky had given him for Christmas last year up to his nose and was determined to ignore the knocking at first, lulled into a comfortable drug haze and unwilling to move… except the sound kept going on and on and on. His annoyance growing as the pounding continued, he wondered if he could explain him repeatedly stabbing whoever was on the other side of the door as an effect of the drugs while he forced himself onto his feet and stumbled forward to stop the awful noise.

It turned out to be Allison Reynolds banging on his door. Oh, wonderful, the justifiable homicide case just became that much stronger.

As if reading his thoughts, Allison held up her hands in a defensive position while giving him a sour look. “Put away the knives and let me in, Renee sent me here,” she declared. “She’s the only reason I’m dealing with your homicidal ass on a weekend.”

His right hand hovering over his left armband while he wavered on his feet, Andrew considered those words for a couple of seconds before he clicked his tongue. “She better have a good reason for this or else I’ll slit your throat after all.”

“Such a fucking asshole,” Allison muttered as she entered the apartment, dressed as if she expected there to be cameras for some type of photo shoot inside; she wore six inch high heels with red linings on the soles, a black suede mini skirt and an ivory silk blouse with a oxblood suede cropped jacket over it with her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, her makeup ‘subtle’ enough to mean it probably had taken half an hour to perfect.

Andrew went into the kitchen and made himself another mug of coffee, which he didn’t offer to his ‘guest’; she narrowed her blue eyes and pressed her glossed lips into a thin line but sat down at the table with her small purse set in front of her. “Again, Renee sent me here or else I’d be having a nice champagne brunch with Matt and Dan, which is preferable than dealing with you.”

“I can always end your suffering,” Andrew offered as he slumped over his coffee mug after he sat down, the ache in his ribs a dull throb.

“So generous,” Allison sneered as she fished through her purse for something. “Anyway, this is what Renee wanted you to have,” she said as she set a cloth-wrapped item down on the table. “And no, all I know is that she called me last night and told me to give it to you, that you had to have it. She was rather insistent about that and that you accept it, and was upset that she couldn’t talk to you. So you take it, you monster, just so I can tell her that you did and it’s one less thing for her to worry about, and answer your damn phone next time.”

She didn’t wait for any explanation from Andrew (not that he’d give her one), or questions from him, either (he didn’t have any, not when it was clear that she had no clue what the hell was going on, not when Renee was being just as cryptic with her girlfriend as she was with him). Andrew sat there and sipped his coffee while Allison left with her signature flounce, and didn’t even flinch when the door slammed shut a few seconds later (except to remind himself to go lock it in a minute or two).

He had about half of his drink before he pulled the wrapped bundle to him to examine its contents (to see what Renee had sent him), undoing the red string around it and flipping open the unbleached linen to expose what turned out to be an ornately carved cross (no figure on it at least) of some unknown wood with a note wrapped around it.

How disappointing.

Renee’s writing was as neat and tiny as always: Andrew, if you’ve received this, it means that something has happened which requires you to wear it. I know that you don’t possess proper faith, but sometimes a leap is required, or at least belief in the person asking you to trust them. That is the time now, and I am asking – put on the cross and trust me, will you? I believe that you will be safer for it, and I want you to be safe. There are things in the world which can’t be easily seen and defended against with simple steel, and I wish we’d had enough time to talk about what lies in the shadows and beyond before I left. Until we can, all I can ask is that you have faith in me, at least, and what I ask of you. I promise, I will explain when I return – Renee.

He stared at the words for several minutes, until the remaining coffee went cold and the letters wavered before his eyes, until he clicked his tongue and decided to put the awful thing around his neck after all. He swore that it felt warm as it settled against his breastbone, which he put down to his imagination and the meds, before he forced himself to stand up (moving was going to be unpleasant for the next few weeks) so he could lock the front door then resettle on the couch.

He used his phone to send a new email to Renee, one where he asked her once again what the hell was going on and why she thought him wearing a bit of religious flash was a good idea. Also? He didn’t appreciate the cryptic comments and expected a straight answer very soon – there was voice mail for a reason, dammit.

Did she know about Neil Josten? She did hang out a lot with Moreau, so did Frenchie say something about the new guy to her?

Why did Andrew feel annoyed about the thought of Josten and Moreau being all buddy-buddy? About there perhaps being something more between the two young men?

He took more meds and curled up with the heating pad and slept as much as possible, the usual nightmares held at bay for once, and ignored his phone since Renee didn’t seem to be answering his questions.

On Tuesday, he slapped the medicated wraps around his bruised ribs and took some over the counter pain pills before he shuffled off to work, and dealt with a frantic Nicky as well as an assessing Aaron in the break room. “Bruised ribs, eh? It’s gonna suck to be you for a while,” his oh-so understanding brother said in-between sips of coffee.

“Oh my god, why didn’t you say something? I could have brought over food! Eric made this amazing stew on Saturday, we had plenty of leftovers!” Nicky exclaimed. “You could have told us!” Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing a necklace? I thought you didn’t go for stuff like that.”

Andrew flipped him off before he accepted the cream-filled donut which Robin offered. “I have work to do, unlike some people. Leave me the hell alone.” He gave Nicky a warning stare before he turned around to head to his office, and ignored the shouted offers of help his cousin gave as he left.

Once settled at his desk (with his door locked), he made sure to better hide the metal chain of the cross necklace beneath his shirt before he went through the emails from Monday.

Bee and Dan had helped to cover for much of his cases while he’d been off, so he didn’t feel as if he’d lost a lot of ground, especially with Peter Minkin. Still, there was something he wanted to do, so he forced himself onto his feet (seriously, bruised ribs did suck) and went off to the one hallway leading to the south courtyard which was closed off that time of year because of the cooler weather. When he heard the sound of hushed voices in the usually deserted corridor, he slowed his steps and ducked into a doorway to wait until one of Nicky’s cases, Ariel Toya, walked past while shoving something down the front of her clingy, bright blue top, then stepped out when Seth Gordon came by a few seconds later.

“Fuck!” Seth took a hasty step back with his clenched hands raised as if to fend off Andrew, probably a hold-over from the days when he’d been a strung-out kid doing whatever it took to survive long enough for his next hit. “What the hell are you doing here, Minyard?”

“I thought that was my question.” Andrew leaned against the door frame, his arms folded lightly over his chest in a familiar gesture which normally put his hands near his knives – if Wymack allowed him to show up to work armed. “So what is it? Pot? It better not be anything stronger than that.” The man was on thin enough ice as it was, if he was selling dope to kids; Wymack might have helped Seth to get clean and to earn an IT degree, but he wouldn’t forgive him for selling drugs at the Foxhole.

As it was, the only thing keeping Andrew still, bruised ribs or not, lack of knives or not, was the fact that the old man had a good grasp of what went down in the Foxhole, and so probably had an idea of what Seth was doing.

“What? Hell no,” Seth snapped as he shook his head. “There’s no way I’d do that! Not to these kids.” When Andrew scoffed, Seth’s dark brown eyes blazed with an anger that appeared more righteous than guilty. “It’s just cigarettes, okay? I don’t even charge the kids anything, I just let them know that they can come to me and I’ll sneak ‘em a few, help ‘em out with their cravings and keep ‘em from doing something stupid like try to steal any or go after something worse.” His anger faded as he let out a steady breath and rubbed at his inner left forearm, which bore similar scars to Matt’s. “Turn me in to Wymack if you don’t believe me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Andrew drawled. “And why should any of us believe you?” So far the story and Seth’s reaction seemed believable, which was the only reason why Wymack wasn’t becoming involved.

“Because I’m not going to fuck this up, okay?” Seth took to glaring again as he jabbed a finger in Andrew’s direction, the flush back on his light brown cheeks yet he knew better than to touch him. “I know what you think about me, you and your family, but I do more than just play on a computer all day and I’m taking classes at night so I can help out these kids, too. Little more than a year and I can be an addiction counselor.”

How impressive. “That’s if you don’t get in trouble for handing out tobacco to minors,” Andrew reminded him.

“Fucking asshole,” Seth muttered as his hands clenched into fists once more. “What do you want? If you were going to get me in trouble, you’d be halfway to Wymack’s office already.”

Seth Gordon wasn’t a complete moron. “Neil Josten’s personnel files by the end of the day,” Andrew told him with a curt nod. “And if I find out you’re giving cigarettes to kids who aren’t already addicted or ‘charging’ them? It’s not Wymack you need to be worried about.” It was one thing to help wean the kids who already were addicted slowly off their habit, but another thing entirely to prey on any of them.

“I’m not going to harm these kids, you asshole,” Seth called out as Andrew walked away.

No, he wouldn’t, Andrew would make certain of it; he wouldn’t tell Wymack about what Seth was doing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pass it on to Renee in an upcoming email as ‘interesting’ work gossip. At the least, she’d let Allison know, who might want to give her ex-boyfriend an earful for his dubious life choices.

Andrew had time for another cup of coffee before his appointment with Peter and Josten; he told himself that he wasn’t eager to see the young man, to gage his reaction after what had happened in the parking lot on Friday.

To find out why Renee had insisted that Andrew wear some stupid cross when he didn’t believe in such things.

Despite leaving for the one play room a little early, Andrew wasn’t the first to arrive, what a surprise. No, Josten was already there, dressed in his usual wardrobe of worn jeans and overlarge sweater, with the thick strands of his dark brown hair mostly hiding the bandaged cut on his forehead.

The younger man gave him a cautious stare as he once more stood off to the side by one of the bookshelves, mindful to remain out of reach, and Andrew thought he caught a flash of guilt over the way that he moved slowly to his usual chair at the table in the middle of the room, a flash that was quickly smothered.

Now what did Josten have to be guilty about, hmm? Andrew gazed at his colleague while he tapped his fingers against the table, possessed by a sudden urge for a cigarette, and shivered as there was a blast of cold for a couple of seconds. He thought that Josten frowned a moment later for some reason, but was distracted by Abby arriving with Peter.

“Mr. Minyard!” Peter broke into a wide smile and waved to him while he greeted him in Russian, then followed it by managing a mostly understandable ‘I hope you’re all right,’ in English which made Abby beam and even drew a slight smile from Josten.

“He worked on that yesterday,” Josten murmured before he shifted forward a little so he could begin translating.

They spent a few minutes with Peter asking Andrew about his weekend and if he really was okay, which Andrew assured him that he was fine (oh, was there a slight twitch from Josten at that?); it was worth the deviation from Peter’s routine to build a better sense of trust with the boy, to allow him a sense of curiosity and put any fears he had to rest. Andrew wouldn’t be in the child’s life forever, not when the goal was to help him get better and find him a safe home with people who’d care for him… but Andrew never cut himself off from any of his ‘kids’ and checked up on them as much as he could.

Once Peter had settled down, Andrew asked him some more questions about his mother and father, about the fights they had and how the woman would do her best to protect Peter; he was slowly building the case against Peter’s abusive father, to show that the woman wouldn’t have abandoned her son, as the asshole claimed. Josten assisted in keeping Peter calm, and by the end of the hour there was a little more information to hand over to the police, a few more blocks added to the wall that would lock away Peter’s father a long, long time come.

Josten made to leave as soon as Abby took Peter away, but Andrew threw out his right arm to stop the man, the motion alone enough to divert his flight. “What about Peter’s English assessment?”

Andrew was given a sour look for the question. “I sent it to you via email last week, and as you can see, he’s started English classes this week,” Josten informed him as he settled back against the bookshelf, the sleeves of his dark grey sweater tugged over his hands and gaze wary beneath the strands of his bangs.

“With you? Are you handling his English lessons?”

“No, that’ll be someone who’s certified to teach, I only handle translations and can help him with phrases here and there.” Josten cast a longing glance to the door before he focused on Andrew once more. “So unless it’s about what happens in our sessions or an evaluation, we’ve nothing to talk about.”

Oh, someone was a hopeful fool, weren’t they? “There’s something off about you. You don’t add up,” Andrew informed the liar as he slowly, carefully, stood to his feet.

Josten was quiet for a couple of seconds while Andrew swore he felt a quick blast of chill again, off to the far left. “I’m not a math equation.”

“No, but I’m going to solve you none the less,” Andrew promised as he tapped his right fingers against the top of the table in quick succession. “I won’t allow anything to endanger these kids.”

“Neither will I.” Josten’s sharp jaw (so much of the man was sharp, was defined angles and slopes and jutting bones poking through thick layers of cloth, were invitations for hands to stroke along and cup and- and Andrew hated himself for that treasonous thought) clenched in obvious anger while his eyes flashed with the emotion before he managed to get a hold on himself. “I’d never bring harm down on a child.”

Hmm, he sounded so sincere… but how often had Andrew heard adults say that they had a child’s best interest at heart, had watch them smile and promise to look after him, only to turn around and lay hands on him (and worse) once they were alone?

“I’m watching you,” Andrew said as he rocked back on his heels. “And I’ll figure you out, too, whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“Fuck you.” Josten glared for a couple of seconds before he stalked out of the room. As he left, several items from the bookshelf tumbled to the floor, including a few heavy ones such as books and wooden toys that fell perilously close to Andrew.

He frowned as he went over to see if the shelf had fallen free from its fastenings somehow – and almost ended on his face as he tripped at a ripple in the carpet, saved only by catching on to the back of the chair. Muttered curses slipped past his clenched teeth for about half a minute as pain washed through him from his jostled ribs, and when he finally could stand upright again, he left the room (and the mess it contained) for the next occupants to deal with so he could have another cup of coffee and a pain pill.

Seth better come through with Josten’s files sooner rather than later, because Andrew was going to be in a full body cast if he had to deal with the enigma much longer.

Renee should have sent him a damn four-leaf clover.

*******

Obviously I don’t recommend what Seth’s doing here (giving teenagers cigarettes, even if with the best of intentions), but he means well.

#nekojitachanfics #ghost in you fic #neil josten #andrew minyard #mary hatford #the foxes #all for the game #aftg #ghosts

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smartblondc-blog · 6 years ago

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hello i am alive ! ! internship is finally over and i could relax a bit over the past few days , so expect some content soonish . i also got a LOVELY NEW THEME and can not wait to be here again . i love you all ! !

#♔ mun speaking ◞ the dark haired to the blonde

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scrapyardboyfriends · 6 years ago

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Jenny’s Belated Live Blogging - 12th December 2018

- I’m back! Because there’s actually content to discuss.

- Since I’ve read the spoilers and am not super concerned about Pete and Rhona yet with this whole Dawn thing, I’m just enjoying the story. I like that it gives them something to do while adding a little bit of tension but ultimately gives them a cause to fight for together. And the tension makes a lot of sense based on their respective histories. It’s potentially a good test for their relationship that (hopefully) doesn’t have to involve cheating. And you know, it’s allowing us to see more of Gerry’s community garden, so...win!

- It’s still strange to see Doug and Brenda as a proper couple but I continue to enjoy Brenda’s general disdain of gardening facts. I still think it’s weird that they just never resolved things at all with Doug and Diane though after the truth came out about Lachlan and Gerry. I really expected something to come out of that but now they just don’t interact at all and it’s strange. Does Doug still have any kind of job? Does he work at the cafe now?

- Blah blah, when is Daz leaving?

- I hope Amy is coming back soonish, because I’m really curious to see what she makes of Kerry these days. I haven’t gotten to her exit yet in 2013 but so much of their story was about how terrible of a parent Kerry was and watching her with Amelia tonight reminded me that she is actually really good with her these days. Especially in light of other terrible parent stories going on right now. So I’m just looking forward to the idea of Amy seeing her in a stable relationship, parenting a child and doing a good job.

- Speaking of terrible parents. Oh Charity. And oh Vanessa, encouraging her to make things up with Ryan instead of...I don’t know, paying attention to Noah, the kid who just got excluded?!? Although ‘excluded until after christmas’ when it’s mid December does not sound that bad. But I don’t even think she really cares about that, more that it reflects badly on her and that for a second she has to be confronted with the fact that she’s failed Noah a whole lot. I mean, I love Charity, but she’s a terrible mother to Noah.

- It’s just really kind of sad that the one mostly constant person in Noah’s life is Charity and she’s the one who ignores him most, unless it’s convenient for her or she’s annoyed with him being off with her and she buys him something or takes him on holiday. Every other parental figure or brother figure he finds, he loses somehow. There was Jai and then Declan and then he had Cain and Moira for a bit and then he had Joe and now he’s back to having no one because he either is just done trusting Charity’s partners or she doesn’t make as much of an effort. And that’s partly to do with the fact that he’s at a hard age. He’s a teenager so he’s mostly self sufficient but he still really desperately needs that love and attention and support.

- One thing I find interesting is that usually these so called bad parent types on the show only usually have one child to worry about. Bernice only has Gabby, Chas in the past only had Aaron, Kerry only had Amy at the time. So when they do bother to put their other priorities aside, they only have that one kid to focus on, bother. Charity now has four. You’ve got Debbie who demands attention because everything must be about her. Plus, they’ve got such a long history and I’m sure there’s always a part of Charity that feels guilty that Debbie didn’t grow up with her, that feels like she owes her more somehow. Same goes for Ryan. Plus he’s he newest of the bunch so she’s still building inroads with him day by day and his is in theory the most tenuous relationship because he really can write her off and just go. And then there’s Moses who still needs her for the day to day surviving stuff because he’s only three. So Noah is just sort of out of luck but he’s always been that way and it’s so sad. It even makes me cheer for that Noah and Graham scene even though Graham bores me to tears because I just want Noah to have someone.

- That’s the other thing. When Aaron was struggling with Chas, he had Paddy. When Bernice flakes out on Gabby, she has Laurel and Doug and Diane there for her. When Kerry messed up with Amy, she had Val and Eric and David there for her. Noah has people here and there but he always loses them. He just needs a constant that is actually there for him, that puts him first.

- And one last thing...cause I’m ranting and rambling now. Haha. Is that we often see these parent child relationships change and grow and improve over time. Aaron and Chas are in a way better place than they started. Partially because again, Aaron was the only child and he went through some major things which got Chas to step up. Bernice and Gabby’s relationship has certainly improved from what it once was. I just want to get to a point where there is a real progression in Charity and Noah’s relationship. Like, I mean, it doesn’t have to be magically fixed forever, she can still sometimes be a terrible mum in the way that Bernice is still flaky and herself, but they can make real progress. And a lot of my yearning for that is that they keep putting the fact that he’s struggling on display and if you keep showing it to me then I want to see some resolution to it.

- But anyway, moving on to a mother/son relationship I do like. I do love Ellis and Jessie. She may be hard on him and there’s clearly a lot to unpack with Billy coming in, but it’s still clear how much she cares about him and how much he cares about her. It’s also really refreshing to see a child actually be supportive of their parent’s relationship. I mean, he’s not a teenager but still. It’s nice to see him champion Marlon and Jessie’s relationship so much and help push his mum along to make sure she doesn’t mess it up. We could have used him earlier when they kept taking one step forward to just take three steps back again at the beginning.

- all that about kids and parents and I almost forgot about Robert! I’m ashamed of myself. Anyway, Robert’s reaction to Jimmy and Nicola was priceless and I fully support his ‘we only tell Aaron’ policy. I really hope that this doesn’t blow up in their faces too badly. Also, even if he is in the dark, I’m still happy to have Jimmy back.

#belated live blogging #emmerdale

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koishia-blog · 6 years ago

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New home new life

You probably have noticed (or not, it’s not like I’m very active anyways) that I’ve been gone for quite a while.

This summer I finally moved out of my home and into a new country which means some new and hopefully exciting things for me.

First of all, perhaps some of you remember that I tried streaming some months ago. In the end I had to drop it because it was too much effort, even though I enjoyed it. The connection was bad and it was very hard to setup the stream to broadcast a game properly which lead to low resolution streams with dropped frames and ruled out the possibility of streaming any online game. Well! Now I do have a good connection and a new computer and even though I haven’t tried streaming yet I have high hopes that it’s going to work way better, so that’s something that’s coming back soonish and with online games such as World of Warcraft, Heroes of the Storm, Monster Hunter World, Ragnarok Online and whatever I can think of (I’m open to suggestions *wink wink*).

The second change is that I’m going to try to be more productive and more confident regarding my art. I’ve always wanted to open commissions since being an artist (or any kind of content creator, really) has always been a dream of mine and, now that I’m away from home, I finally have the support to dedicate myself to it (I still have to look for a proper job in here, but paperwork is taking a while and I need to get better at speaking the language before being considered for anything...)

Again, I’m open to any suggestions or advice and thanks for reading!

TLDR: Moved to a different country, expect streams again, more art, and opening up commissions.

#rant #life update #i'm still alive i promise

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pdnxm · 7 years ago

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Oh, Romeo

> You are an art major who is passionate about theatre and acting. One day you get cast as the female lead and the guy you have a crush on gets cast as the male lead.

> Fluff, mature content (pg-13?)

|| next (soonish)

Acting is your passion. An actor is someone who can be someone completely different while still being themselves. It was incredibly beautiful but extremely difficult. To immerse yourself in a role, to become someone completely new was an art. You loved it. So naturally, you were an Art Major who specified in acting.

Your school was well known, people from all over the world came here to study. All faculties had outstanding teachers and classes that could be as big as 400 students per class, but there was nothing quite like the Arts Faculty. It was hard to get into. Not only do your grades have to be good, but you have to have immense talent and a background of performing or lessons. Luckily for you, you had parents that expected good grades and a drive to be the best.

Each year, the theatre department would put on a play and you’ usually get a secondary role, but this year you vowed to change that. This year was the year of Romeo and Juliet, and you were going to get Juliet or you were going to die trying.

For your audition, you did Juliet’s monologue and with the finishing the lines, “There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word’s death; no words can that woe sound.” You spoke with a melancholy tone, trying to resonate with the character. The directors stared at you for a moment, but their gazes had no emotion. You uttered a small, “thank you”, before grabbing your things and leaving.

The directors usually didn’t show much emotion, but this was ridiculous! It was like staring at a stone wall. You let out a quiet sigh before suddenly being bumped into, causing you to drop your things.

“Goddamnit..” You muttered, crouching down to get your things. “I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, bowing your head as an apology.

“It was my fault. Are you hurt?” Glancing up when you recognized the voice, you froze momentarily. In front of you was the best actor in the entire theatre department and there he was helping you pick up your things. Jin was a god to the younger students, yourself included. He was voted most likely to become a famous actor, and he was already on the way, having nabbed small roles in Hollywood scale films. It should also be mentioned you have a huge crush on him.

“J-Jin! I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” You gave a shy smile, thanking him before getting back up. “Are you on your way to audition?” He nodded with a smile and you practically melted. “I’m trying out for Romeo.” “I just auditioned for Juliet.” You blushed, wondering what would happen if you both got the parts. Well, it was mostly you wishing you’d get the role because Jin was 100% going to be Romeo.

“I hope you do.” He paused, giving a sly smile. “Maybe I’ll finally get to kiss you.” His comment made your jaw drop. Once again, you were frozen. “Anyways, I’ll see you around, (y/n).” And with that, he was gone.

“He.. Wants to kiss me… He knows my name…” You practically ran to your apartment to get the chance to call your friend.

“Seulgi, you wouldn’t believe what just happened!” And you relayed the events that had just occurred, your friend interjecting with excited squeals every now and then.

“So do you think you’ll get it? Do you think he’s hoping you’ll get it?” Seulgi asked. You didn’t have an answer to either question and she seemed to understand. “I think you will, (y/n). You’re super talented.” She assured you, thank god for Seulgi.

“What would I do without you?” You sighed. “I’ll see you later.” And with that, you hung up.

The next few days you anxiously awaited for the cast list to be posted, your heart racing each time you approached the drama room. Finally, the day had arrived. Your classmates were gathered around a piece of paper taped to the wall, all talking amongst themselves. You heard them calling out their roles, “Lady Capulet”, “Tybalt” and so on. But no one had claimed the leads.

With a few nervous steps, your eyes found the word ‘JULIET’ and beside it, ‘(Y/N)’ in bold letters. After a moment of shock, you let out a happy noise. Your castmates patted you on the back and congratulated you before leaving to rehearse. You were left with your Romeo, Jin.

“Congratulations, (y/n). You deserve it.” He gave you a warm smile, not even a flirtatious one.

“Thank you! And you too! It’s such an honour, we all look up to you and to be your counterpart in a production is.. Amazing.” You couldn’t help yourself, but he seemed to appreciate it and his warm smile turned mischievous.

“We’ll be spending a lot of time together. I hope you’ll stop being so shy around me.” You felt your cheeks warm and he chuckled at the sight. “Anyways, I brought you the script book. We should start rehearsing together, even during our free time.” He paused, handing you the book. “I wrote my number on a sticky note, text me when you want to rehearse. Or if you just want to talk.”

Unable to find the words, you nodded gratefully. “I will.” You murmured contently. Am I dreaming?

Sure enough, there it was. A sticky note on the first page with a phone number and the name ‘Jin’ written in all caps with a smiley face beside it. Never have you ever been so ecstatic to see a smiley face. As he walked away to greet his friends and congratulate them for their role, you found yourself staring at the book, still shocked about getting the lead female role. Settling down, you grabbed a highlighter from your bag and began highlighting your lines.

Rehearsing for a play can be described many ways. You prefer the word ‘hell’ when referring to it. Every day until late into the night everyone had to stay and run the show multiple times. You had to get measured, test hair and makeup, redoing certain scenes to perfect them. You never experienced this much stress in such a way, mostly because you were never this important in a show.

The best part was that you spent a lot of time with Jin. You’d rehearse in your free time, mornings and evenings too. Because practice would go so late, he always offered to give you a ride home but for some reason, you always declined and took the bus instead. Stupid.

But today was different.

Today was the first day that you’d be practicing kissing and you were completely and utterly nervous. You had texted Seulgi asking for support, but she was busy in the dancing department preparing for their own show. With a sigh, you put your phone away and went on.

Jin seemed calm, which baffled you for a moment. Oh but he’s Jin. He’s probably done this thousands of times. You’ve kissed before, but never in front of an audience. He seemed to sense this and gave you a comforting glance before the two of you began speaking your lines.

It was in Act 1, Scene 5 where you two kissed. And that’s where you to were right now.

You said your line, “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” And you could have sworn you were visibly shaking, but Jin continued anyways with his line.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” And he moved towards you, leaning in slowly with his hands grasping your jaw. You let your eyes flutter before closing them, waiting for his lips to press against yours. And when they did, you felt as if you were in heaven. His lips were so soft and he was so gentle that when he pulled away, you barely even heard his next line.

The two of you shared more lines before the next kiss came up, “Give me my sin again,” He murmured, kissing you again but this time with more force. You almost squealed but managed to keep it in, but then he pulled away - a cue that another character was coming in.

At the end of rehearsal, the cast gathered around to get notes from the directors and you patiently awaited yours.

“(y/n), good job. You play a very convincing Juliet and the chemistry with Romeo is definitely there. Just work a bit more on putting more emotion in the final scenes and work on the kissing - I know it’s the first time but it was a little awkward on your part.” You nodded, writing down what you need to improve on but almost choking at the words “work on” and “kissing”.

After everyone got their notes and began packing up, Jin approached you with a smirk-like smile. “So you always say no, but I think we’re close enough for me to give you a ride home.” You giggled softly at his words before nodding slowly.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

The first half of the car ride was silent, mostly because you couldn’t gather the courage to say anything. But luckily, Jin was able to do so. He looked at you for a moment before returning his gaze to the road. “I wanted to say, you’re a really good actress.”

The compliment was a complete surprise, “Oh! Thank you. You’re an amazing actor, but you probably hear that a lot.” You both laughed, the awkwardness slowly melting away. “But thank you.” The two of you continued talking, mostly gossiping about castmates and crew and who you would think would be a good couple. There was plenty of romance in the drama room, but most of the people were too shy to admit it (you were one of them).

“Personally, I think Joy and Sungjae would be really cute together.” You stated confidently. Before Jin could respond, he reached your apartment complex. “Here you go.” He smiled at you with a raised brow.

“Thanks, Jin. I don’t know why I always said no.” You admitted, wishing that this happened more often.

“Hey, I’m always there if you need a ride home. It’s pretty late, but maybe next time we could practice some more.” He paused, a smirk growing on his lips. “Maybe focus on what you need to improve on.” Flustered, you stared at him for a moment before nodding. “I.. would really like that.” You murmured in response, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Thanks again, Jin. I’ll see you later.” Gently closing his car door and waving as he drove off, you couldn’t help but smile on your way up to your apartment.

Life was good, and with the show coming up, it was about to get better.

– – –

AU: welcome to a new story, unfortunately, I don’t have much time throughout the week so this won’t be updated very quickly but I’m hoping there will be a chapter a week! (no promises but i’ll try my best) While you’re waiting, why don’t you check out my other stuff?

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