#don’t worry I will be adding a few grey hairs!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ynbabe · 1 month ago

Note

hi love <3

Could I humbly request the grid (or whoever if you have a specific person in mind) in this scenario?https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT2TRnx2T/

Hi!! So glad I have TikTok now cause this req is sooo perfect. And the fact that the inspo had an f1 shirt on is so valid. Also this is a long ass post so it had to be split in two, I will be taking other reqs in the in the meantime!!

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep3 pt 1 [2025 grid edition!!]

You pay for the food

Charles

“Well, well, well-” you started with a tone of sarcasm, the panicked look on Charles’ face turning to one of annoyance.

“Y/n…” he tried to reason with you but the blaring of the fire alarm drowned his voice.

Leo, who rested in your hands, who was panicking along with you when the alarm began, was now glaring at your boyfriend and his father with the same unimpressed glare that you had fixed on him.

“Don’t I remember telling you not to cook?” You cocked a brow, resting the dog on your hip like he was a human child. The whole scene would have been hilarious if it wasn’t blanketed in smoke.

Atleast the man in front of you had the decency to look apologetic, sheepishly mumbling out an apology, kissing you to hide his guilt, “can you order in, belle? I’ll clean up!”

You could only accept the offer, needing to get a now sneezing Leo out of the kitchen.

You had just finished placing the order, laying on the couch, when Charles walked in, hint of guilt still on his face, “Did you order yet, y/n? I’ll get my card-”

“I already paid,” you answered, thinking it would be a big deal, but the look on Charles’ face said otherwise.

“What? Why? Are you still mad at me?” He asked, worried and hyper.

“What- no, of course not! My information was already in my phone, Charlie.” You giggled, watching his face go through the five stages of grief.

He laid on top of you, breath tickling your neck, “well, I’m paying you back,” you had begun to refuse but Charles wouldn’t give in, “non, don’t even.” He ended the conversation.

You could only help but laugh, pulling him closer to you, causing Leo to yip in jealousy, and Charles to react before you could.

“Shut up, Leo.”

Lewis

You and Lewis didn’t often dine in, choosing to cook instead, but it had been a lazy night and neither of you were in the mood to cook or clean.

You had suggested a restaurant for delivery and Lewis had agreed, so you’d gone and placed the order. Lewis had just come back with his card when you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“What?” You asked, confused. Lewis was more confused than you were.

“Don’t you need to pay?” He asked, making you smile.

“I already paid, babe, had my info on the app.” You replied nonchalantly, but the answer didn’t seem to satisfy him.

He had an indecipherable look on his face, “since when do you pay?” He added making you scoff.

“Wha- I pay! Lew, what the hell?” You tried to defend yourself.

He playfully rolled his eyes while taking your phone, “Babe, no offence, you haven’t paid or opened a door a single day since we started dating,”, he typed for a few seconds before returning your phone to you, “there, now it’s my information,” he smiled, proud of himself.

“Just so you know I’m going on a shopping spree now,” you walked off, kissing him with a smirk on your lips, the smile on his falling instantly.

Lando

Both of you had been watching tv, the show forgotten as background noise. Somehow grey’s anatomy had spiralled into making out on the sofa like horny teenagers finally getting the house alone.

Lando pulled away, breathless, and you rested your head against his shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair.

“You know what would make this moment even more perfect?” He asked out, and you hummed to get him to answer.

“Spring rolls.” He answered dreamily.

You sat up, eyes blown in anger, “WHAT? Is that what you’re thinking about right now, Lando? What the hell-”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, “Pleeaaseeee, y/n?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, much to Lando’s joy, “fine, but I’m telling Jon ur cheating-”

The look on his face was enough to vindicate you, giggling to yourself as you placed the order.

You kept your phone down, going back to the show, when Lando poked your side, looking down at you in confusion.

“Don’t you need me to pay?” He asked and you mocked anger, pushing off him to sit up.

“Need you to pay? Lando, what do you think of me? I have a job you know!” You could see him try to back peddle when you couldn’t take it anymore, a smile cracking on your lips.

“Oh you muppet, you scared me, thought u was gonna have to sleep on the sofa tonight!” He laughed pulling you back into him.

He stretched doing something out of your sight, the next moment your phone dinged, thinking it was the delivery you picked it to check but noticed a credit of 100 pounds to your account.

“LANDO-”

Oscar

There were only a few things Oscar loved more than sleep. Two of those being you and-

“Tim tams!” He whispered, groaning as he put down the bags of groceries, “we forgot the freaking tim tams.” He said in genuine despair, making you chuckle.

He’d begun whispering sad monologues about the sweet treats to himself, when you placed the order for them. Twenty minutes later when the last of the groceries were put in their place, the bell rang and you motioned for him to open the door.

“Babe! Did you order these?” He said with joy in voice, the few moments his collected nature melted away to reveal what he truly felt.

He turned to the delivery guy, “how much do I owe ya, mate?” He asked, surprised to see the man say it had already been paid for.

“You paid for these?”

“Yea my phone had my card in it silly,” you took the packet from his hands, placing it in a drawer.

“What? Why? Since when do you pay?” He asked making you raise you brow at him, “I mean- not like, I’m getting you ice cream!” He panicked, placing an order on his phone, making you laugh as you followed him out the kitchen.

George

“I’m gonna get the twenty piece,” you said out loud, placing an order, “you want something?” You asked the blonde next to you.

“Nope,” came the answer so you accepted the terms, paying for your food.

“Ugh I have to wait for thirty minutes, the fries are gonna be so soggy,” you complained, stopping George in his tracks, his wallet opened in his hands.

“Huh?” He questioned, looking at you weird.

You still hadn’t looked up, “yea thirty minutes is wayyy too long, could’ve just gone myself-”

“No like my cards here?” He continued.

That’s when you looked up, to see his confused face, card in hand, “Yea ofcourse I paid, what do you mean?” You laughed.

“Love, I always pay, you never have to pay when I’m there!” He argued genuinely concerned.

“Aww babe, it’s okay! It was faster this way,” you shrugged, doing nothing to change George’s mind.

“Nuh uh, I’m going to Apple Pay you, how much is a twenty peice? Thirty pounds?” He immediately tapped on his phone, making you laugh, folding in half.

“Baby, no!”

Kimi

“What. Is. This?” You threw your pencil down, groaning into your palms. Kimi sitting besides you wasn’t doing any better, cursing the paper in Italian hoping it’d have the decency to solve itself.

“Let’s call George, he’ll know what to do, yes?” You asked, holding your head in your hands.

“non so cosa fare!” Came his reply, his face scrunched in confusion and irritation, “Non capisco questo- co-cosa è questo?” The pushed the paper away and turned to you with a serious look in his eyes. “Tell mama I’m dropping out and jumping on the track.”

You would have reacted but your head was dizzy, “I mean why do we even need algebra, also you can’t do that your mother would kill Toto… and George,” you said as he slumped against you.

“We need food,” he muttered against your shoulder, making you giggle and lean your head against his.

“Italian?” You asked joking.

“Your favourite, no?” He replied, smirking and nudging you, making you push back, hiding your growing blush.

“Shut up or you’re not getting pizza.” You ordered and paid.

“You did the order?” Kimi asked making you hum, “you paid? Amore, I would have paid!” He jumped up. You didn’t know why he was taking it so seriously. “Mama will kill me if I let you pay. I’m a gentleman!” He claimed, cheeks puffing up.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re eighteen and you can’t solve your math problems-”

“Shut up- I pay for next one!” And you couldn’t argue with the adorable boy in front you.

Pierre

“For the last time Y/n, we are NOT getting sushi AGAIN!” He yelled from across the table. It wasn’t your fault the sushi place Yuki introduced you to was amazing and so close your apartment.

“You’re acting like Lando now,” you retorted laughing at his offended face.

“Ay don’t say that! You’re my girlfriend you can’t be mean to me,” he pouted.

“Fine, we can get Chinese then,” he smirked knowing he’d complain and you were right as he muttered something about loving you and god testing him in French under his breath.

“It’ll be here soon, the sushi would have been faster though, just saying,” you announced.

“You don’t have to pay?” He asked confused with his card in his hand.

“What no of course I have to pay! I just paid-”

“Why would you pay! You’re insulting me, amour, you should never have to pay!” He insisted making you melt.

“Aww Pierre, it’s okay!”

“Non, I’m paying you back!”

“Pierre!”

Jack

“I’m getting something to eat, do you want anything?” You asked jack, who nodded no. You placed the order, waiting for it to reach.

“Here,” Jack passed held his card out, making you laugh, you guys had been dating only for a few months, still in awkward phase of not knowing what to do but it was nice knowing he cared even about the small things.

“Jack, you don’t have to pay! Besides it’s only my stuff anyways,” you tried to wave off his outstretched hand, but he was serious.

“Look, I know we don’t get to spend much time together with the races and everything…” he paused trying to articulate his thoughts, “but uh, you are my girlfriend! And I want to do to things for you!” He rushed out blushing, trying not to look into your eyes.

You could feel the heat rush to your face, it was the first relationship where it felt real, like there was something special, you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face, “um, yeah, uh thank you, that’s really nice, I’d like that.” You kissed his cheek.

Fernando

Everything with Fernando was easy, he woke up early for training and by the time he came back you’d be up, either making breakfast or getting ready to go out. Today was different, both you had the time for a lazy day in so you ordered in.

“Nando, I’m placing the order, you want anything else?” You called across the room to where the man was busy recording one of his TikTok’s.

“No, my wallet is in the drawer,” he replied.

“Oh no need, I already place the order! It will here in twenty,” you announced making him stop in his tracks.

“You paid? Why? Are you angry?” He turned to you completely serious.

“What? Babe no! I just ordered, it’s not so serious,”

He continued through your answer, “por favour, next time don’t pay, okay? You are my wife! You shouldn’t have to pay when I’m here!”

Lance

“Hey Lance, I’m ordering in, do you want anything?” You asked sitting across him on the sofa, nudging his thigh with your feet.

He didn’t look up from his phone, placing a hand on your shin instead, “yea I’ll get a smoothie, thanks” you hummed and placed the order.

Jumping a little when he placed a card on your thigh where you’d be able to reach it.

“What’s this for?” You questioned confused, making the man opposite you furrow his brows.

“For the food?”

“Oh I already paid-”

“What? Since when do you pay?”

“What? Ofcourse I pay!” You replied slightly offended, you paid, not often but definitely did!

“Babe, the last you paid was in 2020 when I was in Italy and you were back home,” he deadpanned, making you roll your eyes.

Part 2 with Max, Yuki, Esteban, Ollie, Liam, Isack, Carlos, Alex, Nico and Gabi- COMING SOON!!

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lay-z · 5 months ago

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✨️ Day 4 ‒ Mama's boy

Synopsis: Captain Price knows he can count on his team; no matter what and no matter when. He knows it and his soldiers know it, too. 1–4–1. Still, to say you were shocked when he’d asked you to play his darling girlfriend at his annual family Christmas gathering, is an understatement.

Pairing: John Price x fem!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; humour; fake dating (or is it???); awkward flirting; sexual tension; cussing; fluff; happy ending; teammates to lovers

Word count: 2.4k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

This is for the lovely @staytrueblue ! You've become the absolute Captain John Price expert to me. Hope you'll like it! 🩵

You pick at the hem of your dress; deep red velvet with elegant long sleeves, a tight top with a Carmen neckline which allows a peek of the soft curve of your shoulders, and a bottom that flows seamlessly into a skirt that reaches just above your knees.

A white pearl choker adorns your neck, along with the matching earrings. You’ve done your hair and make-up, and added a spritz of your most expensive perfume – and you don’t question yourself why you’re even doing this much, but perhaps it’s simply the all-consuming urge to please and impress your Captain, like an eager pup with its owner.

You’ve cleaned up nicely for tonight and you’d be more focused on that if it wasn’t for that tight ball of anxiety manifesting deep down in your gut since this whole ruse had taken root a few days ago. It didn’t help when Price gave you a genuine compliment after picking you up from your apartment on base, either.

Trying to relax back into the soft leather of the passenger seat, you decide to glance out of the window and distract yourself by watching the steady storm of snowflakes flutter furiously outside, covering the scenery in fresh powdery snow while the engine of the car purrs steadily.

Aston Martin Vantage. V8. British racing green. Jet-black rims. Sleek interior. Holy shit.

You’ve never sat in a car like this before, nor did you expect Price to own something fancy and flashy like this. Then again, you didn’t expect him to ask for this favour, either.

“Would you stop worrying, darling? You’ll be fine.”

Your eyebrow quirks as you glance at Price, giving him a side-eye as you hear how casually he drops that pet name in that gruff voice of his. It shouldn’t feel like this, this right, shouldn’t make the hair at the back of your neck bristle this pleasantly.

Darling.

“Getting into character already, sir?” You can’t help but ask teasingly, unable not to take the piss out of this whole situation you’ve found yourself in.

Your Captain and superior asking you, one of his Sergeants of all people, to accompany him to his annual family Christmas get together, and what a shit show it is going to be. You’re sure of it.

However, Price huffs, brows furrowing as he keeps his sharp eyes focused on the snowy road.

“Might as well,” he counters curtly, “and stop calling me ‘sir’, will ya? We’re not on duty and I need this – us – to be believable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you make a dismissive gesture with your hand, pondering for a moment before turning your head to really take a good look at him this time.

John looks handsome, too handsome and too civilian, wearing a dark grey chequered pair of chino pants that accentuates his firm rear a little too well, with black dress shoes and a simple black turtleneck sweater that stretches over his broad chest, shoulders and bulging biceps.

The cab of his car is cosy warm and filled with the scent of his tangy yet subtle cologne, a smell that makes you want to hook a finger into the hem of his turtleneck sweater, tug the fabric down to expose his neck and then bury your nose in it to take a sniff.

Yes, no, you’re absolutely normal about all of this.

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink those thoughts away at once, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“So, uh... W-What should I call you, then? Honey buns? Babe?” You quip and cringe internally at your own joke, though you’re gauging his reaction as he drives over to his parents' house.

“Baby? ... Good boy?”

His jaw clenches under his beard, you can see it in the way his temple twitches, and the leather of the steering wheel creaks softly as he grips it tighter. Interesting.

“John is fine,” he answers eventually, “Sweetheart or love if you’re feeling bold enough after a glass of wine, ya bloody lightweight.”

“Sweetheart... Love...” You repeat those pet names quietly, testing them out on your tongue regarding him, still your Captain and superior – and the man you’ve been harbouring feelings for, for the past few years, if you’ll finally start to be really honest with your damn self.

“Okay, I can do that.”

He reaches over and pats your knee; the warmth of his rough palm seeping through the thin fabric of your black tights, “I know you can, darling.”

The first few minutes were incredibly awkward, but that’s just you – being incredibly awkward in general.

Put yourself in any gunfight, jumping out of planes, fake dating Gaz or Soap for a mission, or stalking a target for days on end without a break – no problemo, – but social interactions outside of the field? One such as this?

Oh, boy.

However, you stick to the plan, to the detailed briefing John has given you prior to tonight, and it does seem to work.

His father, William, is surprisingly chatty, but you could also already smell the bourbon on his breath when he went in for a brief hug at the front door.

His mother, Margaret, though, she’s not an easy read, and you quickly realize where your Captain got his steadfastness from. A proper lady who’s obviously the head of this household. He’s got her piercing eyes and appraising look, and you know you’re being scrutinized thoroughly, but she’s friendly enough and gives you space, though you’re already anticipating the moment she’s going to herd you away from her son to put you through the wringer like a wet kitchen towel.

His older brother, Robert, wife Deborah, and two kids, Luke and Ben, are easy to fool, though it seems old Bobby gets a kick out of trying to make his younger brother and especially you flustered. It doesn’t work on John, but after a first glass of wine, you have to admit that it does work on you.

Robert is even less funny than John and that’s just because he’s trying too hard; trying too hard to make everyone like him, and you wonder why John lets him get away with it, but then again, Robert’s the firstborn son, so maybe it’s just the respect John is forced to have for his older brother that’s holding him back. Classical sibling and brother hierarchies, and all of that.

“Say, how did Johnny even manage to woe a woman like you? He’s as charming as an ice pick that one.” Robert dares to ask during dinner, and you actually get offended by that.

“Charming enough for me,” you retort, staring daggers at him and wishing you had an ice pick to throw right about now, “I prefer a straightforward man over some bootlicker.”

Deborah laughs while Robert looks bewildered, eyes flickering between you and John, who’s seated next to you. You cringe internally at yet another blunder, but then you see John’s smug smile out of the corner of your eyes, and his hand finds your knee again under the table, lingering there for the remainder of dinner.

His mother keeps watching and observing from her seat across from you at the long table, a small smile tugging at the corner of her red-painted, wrinkly lips.

John’s younger sister, Alice, shows up right after dinner, before everyone is moved back into the spacious living room to exchange presents; with the large, decorated Christmas tree looming in the corner next to the fireplace, where the birch wood is already crackling nicely.

Alice is an artist, a photographer, living in Paris. Her flight got delayed due to the weather, hence why she’s late. It’s clear by the way John pulls her into a tight hug while simultaneously calling her a muppet that he prefers her over Robert.

She’s a cold breeze of fresh air; a whirlwind full of buzzing energy, joy and kindness, and she would almost be too much for you in any other situation, but when she embraces you gleefully and welcomes you into the family, it’s too easy to get lost in that fantasy for a moment.

This whole ruse is starting to turn cruel on you, really.

Especially, when John’s large and warm hand comes to rest on the small of your back, just above the curve of your rear, once Alice demands to take a picture of you two in front of the Christmas tree. You glance up at him as he towers next to you, smiling boyishly at his little sister while he pulls you closer into his side, one arm curling around your waist and making you go somewhat rigid as you practically feel his strength and dominance radiating off his body, and there is a touch of possession in the way he’s holding you, too.

Or perhaps, you’re simply imagining it.

A sudden camera flash goes off, blindsiding you momentarily and you blink away the dots blurring your vision when Alice speaks up again.

“Alright, thanks for the mugshot, cherié,” she quips, snapping her fingers at you as if to wake you up, “Give me a good one now, aye? I need to capture proof that John actually brought a woman home for once. Look at your poor man; bloody sap’s completely infatuated with you.”

Infatuated? You blink dumbly and glance up at him instinctively as if to check for that yourself, acting as if you could tell how said infatuation would even look like.

And then, your stomach drops and the blood in your veins starts simmering, toes curling in your pumps to ground yourself as soon as your eyes lock with his slightly glazed, steel blue eyes, like a steady flow of ice melting in a rivulet.

Sometime, somehow, in this moment, your hand reaches up to rest on his chest, manicured fingers splaying over the fabric of his sweater to feel his strong heartbeat thudding against your palm–

... and then, Alice coos at you two – breaking the spell.

“Yes! That’s more like it, cherié!”

You excuse yourself after Alice gets the perfect picture to her liking, and before John can follow you, his mother urgently calls out to him, asking for his help in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you almost feel bad that Alice’s family photo album will have a staged picture of a fake relationship in it, one that will taint it with a big, fat lie.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be here tonight and yet, you are, after having agreed way too quickly and eagerly to the Captain’s request to play his girlfriend and help getting his family to back off.

Now, you find yourself wandering the hallways upstairs of his old family home, where he grew up in, you’d learned; sipping your glass of white wine absentmindedly while you study the rows upon rows of pictures littering the walls, like a walkway through time.

It feels like overstepping a boundary, but John should’ve expected you, a trained special forces soldier, to sneak off at some point to snoop around a bit; he never explicitly told you not to, after all.

You get stuck on graduation pictures of all three siblings, though your eyes linger on John, standing at attention in his dress uniform; tall, handsome, very beardless and fifteen years younger, at least, and you catch your smile before it can spread into something too fond.

Taking another slow sip, you feel a familiar presence behind you; still, you wait for him to address you first and maybe chew you out for being nosy.

“Don’t get caught up in the past, darling,” his gruff voice cuts through the peaceful silence, “I’ve long lost that youthful charm and vigour.” He chuckles gruffly.

Darling. There it is again.

“You can drop the act when we’re alone,” you mumble into the glass as you take another sip, trying to get rid of that damn flutter of nerves deep in your stomach, “I’m positive we’ve fooled them well enough tonight, sir.”

His footsteps are dulled by the carpet covering the hardwood floor as he keeps approaching you from behind, and your grip tightens around the wine glass, nearly shattering the delicate glass, when John’s powerful arms come to wrap around your midriff from behind; his buff body moulding against your back like it’s meant to be.

Admittedly, you go rigid again, holding your breath, stiff as a board.

His breath is warm, a hint of smooth bourbon catching in your nostrils as he leans in to murmur against your ear while his arms tighten around your waist, “I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’, haven’t I? Mhm, darling?”

You shudder involuntarily in his sudden embrace, this forbidden intimacy, breath hitching as your brain begins to short-circuit at once.

“Yeah… You did,” you croak out, voice coming out too breathlessly for your own liking, “But there’s no one to fool here right now, John.”

His chest rumbles and reverberates against your back with something like a pleased hum when you use his first name.

“Not trying to fool anyone, love. ’s just you and me now. ‘sides–”

He then nuzzles his nose against the exposed juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, trailing the tip of his nose along the smooth curve while his beard scratches over your skin pleasantly.

“My bloody mother knew the moment we stepped over the threshold of this house. Thought I’d trained ya better than tha’, Sergeant, or were you not faking any of this after all, hm?”

Despite your better judgement, you allow yourself to lean into his embrace, feeling his body heat seeping through the velvety fabric of your dress.

“Were you?” You counter-ask overzealously, tongue loosened by the alcohol you’ve already consumed, before biting down on your bottom lip, though you can’t take your question back to swallow the words like you probably should have.

“Faking it… I mean.” You add, clearing your throat awkwardly as you continue clutching your wine glass.

There is a heavy pause, one that has your pulse thrumming violently in your neck with each passing second of his silence, until John’s low, gravelly voice murmurs, his lips brushing over that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“Thought I was already being terribly obvious, darling.”

#call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod:mw #tf 141 #reader insert #cod advent calendar 2024

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emptyultimatum · 10 months ago

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SWEATER WEATHER

Avenger AU Loki x fem!reader In which Loki and his girlfriend (you) clash cutely over weather-appropriate clothing.

Loki raised his arms above his head, the shoulders in his scarred back rippling with muscles. His shirt lay on the floor, stripped off and sweaty from his work out. Facing the window, admiring the view of New York, he groaned as he stretched, pulling, reaching. Crrck, pop, crack!

“Ah, that feels better,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders to settle them. He shook his black curls out of his bun, pulling the hair tie onto his wrist absently. “Darling, where are you?”

She slid into the room, beaming absurdly at him, arms spread wide. “Look at my sweater.”

It was July, and a heatwave was rocking New York with a vengeance. Signs sagged in the heat; cars were dangerous to the touch; the sun bounced off glass buildings with such aggression, Loki felt as if his eyes were being burned alive. Thank Odin for sunglasses, which he wore regularly.

And despite this all, his girlfriend decided to buy a sweater. An overlarge, shapeless, lumpy grey sweater, which had sleeves so long they flopped over her hands like bunny ears.

“You can’t be serious,” Loki said, staring at the sweater.

She grinned. “I’m so serious. It’s so comfy.”

She did look comfy. Absurdly comfy, in fact. The kind of comfy that winter and hot chocolate and fireplaces heralded. And the way that the tops of her thighs stuck out from the bottom, round and plump… He felt a strong urge to pull her onto the bed and cuddle into her for the next week or so.

But then Loki remembered the hundred-two degree high they were predicted to reach today.

“Take it off,” he said. “You’re going to melt.”

“Tony can pay for AC,” she waved him off, bouncing to the thermostat and cranking it low. “Ahh. I love it.”

He gave her a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re utterly ridiculous. It’s the height of summer, darling, and you bought a sweater.”

“That’s the best time!” she argued. “Off-season sales! I got this for thirty bucks.”

“Thirty bucks?”

“The original price was fifty-eight,” she said stubbornly.

Loki prayed to his mother. “At least put it in storage until the proper climate arrives.”

“That’s in months,” she waved him off, sweater sleeve flapping. “I wanna wear it now.”

“Of course you do.”

“We should make hot chocolate. I’m in a hot chocolate mood.”

“Naturally, in summer, hot chocolate is a must-have.”

“And watch Frozen!”

“This must be some sort of joke,” he pleaded. “What insanity drove you to this? It’s a damn ninety-eight degrees!”

She cackled. “I like sweaters.”

“You don’t even wear them!” Loki cried.

“Now I do!” She climbed into their bed, snuggled under the covers. The AC was properly blasting now, sending cold gusts of air down his sweaty, post-gym skin. She patted the space beside her, smiling up at him. “Come cuddle. It’s cold.”

“And they call me the Mad One,” he muttered, climbing into the bed. She giggled, putting her arms around him, snuggling him into her chest.

“Perfect,” she sighed.

Perfect indeed, Loki smiled into her sweater, feeling its soft fibers tickling his cheek. She was warm, soft, and plush. The perfect place to rest his head, to ease his worries.

They lay silently together, hearts beating in sync, the summer sun gleaming through their window as the AC pumped cold air into the room. She sighed, pleased, snuggled in her sweater.

“We do have a mission brief in a few moments,” Loki murmured.

“I know,” she said.

“And you’re going to wear the—”

“I’m going to wear the sweater.”

Loki hid his smile in her chest. “We’d best alert Stark, then, so he might prepare the room temperature for you in advance.”

“How considerate,” she smiled. “You’d do that for me?”

“Darling, I’d freeze the world twice over if you wished for snow.”

She beamed at him, pure and unabashed joy. “Well, it’s a good thing I only want you.”

Loki’s heart fizzled, his skin tingling with the closeness of her.

“And hot chocolate,” she added.

He laughed, and brought her in for a kiss.

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x reader fluff #loki fluff #loki fanfction #loki laufesyon x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu #loki is an avenger #reader is adorable #x reader #fem reader #chubby reader

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 year ago

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Kisses

tw: some suggestive, nsfw (Johnny Cage one)

author note: another idea I needed to write out. Hope you'll enjoy reading those!

If there is something Raiden can’t stand is seeing you cry; tears and snot don’t suit you. Raiden’s warm hands cup your face, calloused hands against your soft cheeks, thumbs brushing the remaining tears “Come with me” he whispers, chocolate brown eyes looking at you with such passion they almost make you forget all your problems.

He takes you to the field where he spends most of his day “The stars here are brighter than anywhere else” he tells you, voice strong and reassuring before sitting on the ground next to you.

Words escape your mouth like a waterfall, no filter, brain shut, just the need to share, something you are not used to do.

Raiden listens to you, eyes never leaving your face, while you look at the starry sky, your eyes always elsewhere, too worried you’d lose the thread of the discourse if your eyes happened to meet.

“If I know something is that everything other than death has a solution.“ His forefinger push behind your ear a strand of your hair, the action makes you jerk, eyes widening and finally, you look at him.

There isn’t much light, but the moon frames his face perfectly. You can see a reddish hue coloring his cheeks, and a smile full of hope that makes your heart thump with joy “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a better answer, but-“ his hands grip your arms, strong, but without hurting, his strength perfectly stable “Never let yourself down, life will get better believe me.” You bite your tongue “It never does Raiden” you’d like to reply, but his words carry so much hope that you can only nod at him.

He lifts himself up from the ground and extends his hand out to help you.

“Thanks” You say after minutes of silence, your steps on the ground the only sound, not even cicadas try to interrupt.

“For the hand? It really is no-“

“For the company, for your words.” You look at him, now standing in front of your room. You kiss his cheek and wish him goodnight, a shy smile appears on his face as he waves at you.

The newfound warmness spreading from your heart is a new problem you’ll have to learn how to deal with in the next few months, for now, you can only rest and wait for a new day to start.

“You finally woke up, you idiot.” Tomas could recognize that voice between millions of others, so sweet and so caring even if they just called him an idiot.

Grey eyes scan the room, he’s in the infirmary bed, at Madame Bo restaurant. He and Kuai Liang got ambushed not that far and he remembers getting hit at the back of his head; that stung a lot.

“Do you know who I am?” Your voice trembles and Tomas has the urge to coo at you; obviously, he knows who you are, his heart keeps thrumming mercilessly against his ribcage the moment he opened his eyes.

“Yeah, I know, who do you think I am? A simple knock on the head won’t either kill me or make me lose my memory.” He half teases, but the scowl is still stuck on your face.

“Tomas-“ Your voice is serious and he can only look at you, at your trembling lips and shiny eyes “I seriously thought I lost you.” Your arms envelop his figure, your face hidden resting on top of his right shoulder, new warmth adding to Tomas one.

He is stuck in place, but his mind is running wild. His left hand pats your head and he feels the corner of his lips twitching.

You must care about him a lot.

You lift your head up, your teary eyes locking into his gray ones, pupils wide, so deep he may lose himself in them. Tomas feels the time slowing down, almost stopping, your lips inching closer and closer ‘till they finally touch.

He reciprocates, not a single second lost, your lips dancing and searching for each other, breath mingling, tongue fighting in a battle of supremacy, both wanting to feel more of each other. Tomas pulls you towards him and your body falls onto his, chest against chest, heart beating at the same rhythm, divided by the layers of your clothing. Limbs tangle, hands everywhere, caressing and groping; from an outside view, it wouldn’t be able to tell where one starts and the other one ends.

This ‘till your hand pulls Tomas’ hair. He breaks the kiss and flinch, maybe that was more than a little hit on the head. He can see you try to pull off from him, eyes full of worry, but his hands keep you in place, on his lap, fingers leaving indent on your hips that will for sure bruise.

“I-I shouldn’t have, sorry Tomas.” Your hands, so tiny and soft in contrast to his ones, push against his chest, like you are trying to distance yourself from him, head turned to the side not looking at him.

Your hair messy, your lips still red and bruised, and that worried expression, fuck, Tomas would like to frame his moment, your cuteness overwhelming all his senses.

Then you both hear a voice, it’s Madame Bo telling you to go back to work, the signal that he has to let you go. You remove yourself, Tomas’ hands finally loosening up. You brush your clothes in place and rush towards the exit.

“See you later” Tomas rasps out.

You nod.

Later you’ll have more time to talk about your feelings.

“Johnny-“ A breathy moan escapes your mouth.

The atmosphere is humid, the heat of your two bodies entangled is almost suffocating.

You missed Johnny, this new project he has been working on keeps him away from home for months. You are a supportive partner, you love him and you want to see him happy but, fuck, you missed him so much.

You are lucky he is on your same wavelength. He opens the door and your lips are already locked, hands unbuttoning shirts and pants being thrown somewhere.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You gasp in between kisses, your hand on the back of his neck to keep him impossibly close to you.

He groans, his hands now on your lower back lifting you up from the ground.

Everything else is a blur in your mind, you soon find yourself lying on the bed, legs open and Johnny working his tongue southward, your warm sex as inviting as water in the desert.

“Fuck-“ Your hand lay on his head, trying not to grip to harshly his dirty blonde locks.

“Yeah baby, tell me how good I am.” You look down to see his hips grind against the mattress, so desperate for you.

A wave of pleasure licks down your spine, your eyes roll back, throat exposed while you bit your bottom lip trying to keep a louder moan.

How good it is to be desired.

“J-Johnny you are so go-“ Your phrase gets interrupted by a gasp, a particular flick of his tongue makes you see stars, your legs reflexively close, but Johnny’s strong hands keep your thighs apart, fingers circling the inner side and you don’t know if it is done to calm you or him.

One of his hand leave your legs to play with your sex, his face now squeezed between your soft thighs, but your mind is too fogged to worry about crushing him, not that he minded his motions only getting faster and uncoordinated.

An orgasm soon permeates your body, Johnny lifts up, his lips drenched with your essence, his pupils blown wide, your heartbeat impossibly fast, a different kind of heat enveloping your limbs.

Your lips meet again, you taste your flavor on his tongue, lips locking, his hands now resting on your waist, pushing your chests impossibly close, but not enough, never enough.

“I love you.”

The night ahead is still long.

Bi-Han is awake, sitting on your bedding, naked, but the covers hide everything under the navel. The moon shines bright in the sky, the light and shades framing his lover's body sleeping soundly next to him.

Bi-Han is a man eaten by greed, by pride, a man made more of scars than flesh.

But you love him and he loves you. It’s a feeling he never knew, it isn’t the kind of warmth he got from his mother's compliments, or from his brother's support, it is something much more exhilarating, that makes his eyes soften and his hardened core melt more than he’d like to admit.

His eyes land on your body, so soft, so sweet, he wants to defend you from all the ugliness of this world.

Maybe from him too.

He looks outside the window, the night is still long, but there is no sign of tiredness in his eyes.

“Bi-Han, it is late you should sleep.” Bi-Han breaths, he didn’t even notice how long he had been keeping his breath in, mind so busy and heart uneasy.

Your arms wrap around his neck, naked body laying on his back, your lips kissing his neck, where arteries and veins flow.

“Worried about something?” Your eyes look at his face, he doesn’t look back but he knows, searching for any telltale sign of his emotions.

“Nothing you should worry about sparrow.” He breathes out, voice raspy as always.

You don’t believe him, he knows it. Your hand starts to trace the scars painting his skin, your lips barely caressing the newborn scratches on his back.

“Tell me your worries, my heart.” Your arms hug his frame and push him down together with you.

Bi-Han doesn’t struggle against your hold, his head now in the crook of your neck, free hair tickling you.

“Don’t worry about me, tomorrow is a busy day and you need to rest.” He kisses the tip of your nose, his calloused hand caresses your cheek, thick fingers drawing circles on your skin.

You kiss him, in a slow liplock. Eyes closed, hands holding.

Bi-Han bites your bottom lips before breaking the kiss and you groan, the only kind he likes.

He looks into your eyes and he only finds love, sweet and blissful. A new fire starts inside his heart.

Bi-Han still doesn’t know how to protect you from this accursed world, for now, he’ll have to settle for showing how much he loves you.

#mk1 x reader #mk1 imagine #mk1 x you #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 smoke #mk1 raiden #mk1 johnny cage #mk1 bi han #mk1 sub zero #obvs the first smutty fic for mk is for Johnny #me and my disease of liking my men dumb LMAO

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agi-ppangx · 1 year ago

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two brave soldiers (bang chan x han jisung x gn!reader)

hurt/comfort, no warnings, reader is going through a hard time

an: based on this request !! if anyone is struggling or having a hard time i just want you to know im here for you and im sending you plenty of hugs<3 my dms are open if anyone would like to vent🫶🏽

“we’re home!” you heard chan and jisung exclaim. “ynnie?” they called one more time after they heard nothing more than silence coming from your apartment. Did you go somewhere with your friends? it wasn’t that late so they didn’t even think about you being in bed already. that's why when jisung entered your bedroom he almost jumped when he noticed your curled figure under the thick blanket. you were scrolling mindlessly through tiktok, paying no attention to your surroundings.

“ynnie?” he said softly, trying not to startle you as he sat behind you on the bed. that was also the moment when jisung realised you’d been crying as you sniffled a few times, locking your phone and throwing it between the pillows. "oh, my poor baby. what’s wrong?” he asked, but you didn’t answer as you shuffled to wrap your arms around jisung’s waist, dampening his grey hoodie as you shed a few more tears. he embraced you tightly, becoming your shield from the outside world, from your struggles and problems.

“jisung, what are you do-” chan’s voice reverberated through the room as he peeked in to search for jisung, only to find him comforting you. “yn? what’s going on, baby?” he asked with worry dripping over his voice, but he didn’t need an answer to see you going through something. he gently sat beside you and jisung, looking at him with a wordless question written all over his face, but jisung could only shrug his shoulders as you still sobbed curled up on his lap.

“let’s get comfier, okay honey?” jisung suggested, carding his fingers through your dishevelled hair. you only nodded, letting both of them manoeuvre your aching body so you laid right between them. chan tucked your head into the crook of his neck as jisung wrapped his arms tightly around your waist from behind. you inhaled chan’s cologne, letting it cloud your mind and forget about the world around you.

“do you wanna talk?” chan started hesitantly, but you only shook your head.

“no, ‘m just tired,” you responded, yawning. the boys nodded at your words.

“it’s okay. we’re here anyway, always. don’t forget about it, yeah?” he added, but you were already drifting off, falling deep into the state where nothing and no one could hurt you. but you also knew that when you wake up, you’ll have two brave soldiers right beside you to protect you from any pain that was just waiting to invade your heart and tear it in half.

taglist: @lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby @skzhoes @minhosbitterriver @astraystayyh

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maracujatangerine · 6 months ago

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Hi I'm thinking a normal amount about Absalom today! Snooty Good PetTM who still (at least in Brutus' nightmares) moves to shield the others. Could we maybe hear a little about him and Brutus interacting (do they get to interact??) or how they first met or their first impressions of each other or. Anything like that? I love they and your writing is always tasty. -@secretwhumplair

86. Introducing Pets

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

”Do you really want to put them together, love? I mean, Brutus can be a bit high-spirited, and he is quite a lot stronger than your pet.” Wayland Jones shook his head. “I don’t want anything to happen.”

“Ah, don’t worry so much, dear. That nice WRU consultant did recommend for them to get some alone time together to suss each other out. And…” Cecilia twirled around gracefully, making her red skirt swirl out around her. Playfully, she put her hands on his shoulders, reaching up to give him a light peck on the cheek. “… since we are going to live together now…” She beamed, and turned to continue onwards down the corridor. “…we can’t really keep them apart for ever. Besides, we’ll just give them a few minutes, how bad can it get?”

“Let’s try it. I left Brutus in the hallway.”

“And Absalom is in the bedroom. I’ll go and get him.” She went eagerly, heels clacking against the floor.

Brutus and Wayland arrived first. The black-haired guard dog obediently went to kneel on the floor next to the unlit fireplace. His casual attire of dark grey sweatpants and t-shirt matched in colour, but clashed in tone, with Wayland’s dark grey suit and white shirt.

“I really want this to work, so make sure that you don’t mess it up for me.” Wayland’s hash tone made Brutus flinch. “She likes her pet, so be sure that you are nice to it. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. In fact, I count on you to keep an eye on Absalom. Romantics are smart enough to get in all sorts of trouble, but stupid enough to not get out of it again.”

“Yes, Master.”

Soon, the door swung open and Cecilia entered, Absalom half a step behind. At his mistress order, the pet knelt on the other side of the fireplace. He was elegantly dressed in a light blue vest over a white shirt, matching blue trousers, and his wavy, brown hair tied at the nape of his neck with a brighter blue ribbon. His collar was soft, grey leather, in sharp contrast to the black, synthetic material around the guard dog’s neck.

“Absalom, this is Brutus.” Cecilia said, grinning at the formality of introducing the pets to one another. “Brutus, this is Absalom. We want you to get to know each other better, so we’ll give you a few moments to talk.”

Both Cecilia and Wayland went towards the door.

“Have fun, pets.” She smiled. Wayland caught Brutus’ eye and mouthed; ‘Behave’.

As the door fell shut behind them, both pets stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

Then, Absalom rose gracefully to his feet. The small scar on his upper lip emphasised by his sneer.

“Well, well… look what the cat dragged in….” In an undertone he added. “Though of course it would have to have been a fairly large and weight-bearing cat.”

He danced quickly backwards when Brutus also came to his feet. “That was a bit of a joke.” The pet said quickly, blue eyes wide. Finding himself, he tilted his head and tried a winsome smile. “I’m not usually meeting guard dogs. You are very imposing close by, darling.”

Standing face to face, they were almost the same height, but Brutus’ muscular heft compared with Absalom’s lithe build made the guard dog probably twice as heavy. They watched each other warily. Then, Brutus broke the silence with a shrug and a smile.

“I’m not used to your sort either.” He admitted, and scratched his head. “Actually, the last time I saw a romantic was when we got an old one as bait. He was just running around like a headless chicken and Jazz almost crushed his head when he knocked him out.” He chuckled. “It was actually quite funny… he…” Brutus looked up and finally seemed to register that Absalom’s somewhat condescending smile had frozen and turned into something more resembling a rictus grin. “Eh… He was all right, though… or at least he survived.” He swallowed, and tried again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, though. My Master has told me to be nice with you.”

“Okay then.” Absalom went for a forced, chipper tone. “We’re going to live together, we need to get along.”

Brutus nodded and held out his hand. “Truce?” Absalom studied his face for a moment, hesitating. Intensely blue eyes searching dark brown.

Then, carefully, he reached out his thin, carefully manicured hand, and clasped the the guard dogs darker, larger hand in his own.

“Truce.”

Everything feels a bit dark and scary in the world at the moment. Especially when things feels like they are going the wrong way, I think it is really important to involve yourself with actually trying to improve things, preferably together with other people in the world out there.

It is, however, also important to keep your own spirits up, so I took this advice, and decided to make something today. I have been twisting and turning this wonderful ask by @secretwhumplair in my mind for a while, and it finally clicked together in a way I’m happy with. I was also inspired by this ask. Thank you so much for the ask, @secretwhumplair, I hope you’ll enjoy Brutus and Absalom’s first meeting! ❤️

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #bbu #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #pet whumpee #whump fic #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing #lydia and coriander

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photo1030 · 2 years ago

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 19: Second Time Around

Summary: You and Arthur settle into your new relationship and try to find some more time alone together.

Warning: 18+ please. Minor - DNI; NSFW

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*This beautiful image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic . I know it's Sadie in the image, but this just captures the tone of this chapter perfectly.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

The next morning you wake up early to the faint breeze of someone’s breath dancing across your forehead. Reluctantly opening your heavy eyes just a sliver, you realize that you have your face snuggled up and tucked under Arthur’s chin. You notice the heavy weight of his strong arm draped over your middle, holding you in place close to him, even in his sleep. It is a most comfortable position to find yourself in first thing in the morning.

A serene calmness settles over you as you take a moment to appreciate where you are and who you are with. Your drowsy eyes roll up to look at Arthur, careful not to move your head too much. You note with affection all of those little red marks scattered across his face from broken capillaries under his skin caused by years of sun exposure. In his sleep, his face doesn’t carry those deep worry lines that seem to constantly decorate his features. His hair is slightly rumpled from his slumber, locks twisted like summer wheat swaying in the wind. His eyelids don’t even twitch with any sort of movement from a possible dream-like state. He is utterly out to the world. And it is with a slight feeling of pride that you acknowledge Arthur is able to rest so peacefully because of you lying by his side.

You think of the whirlwind of events that have taken place over the last few days. Your mind replays with such fondness the tender moments of the previous evening. While you were not able to be intimate last night, just the closeness and sweet whispers in the darkness mean volumes to you.

Your attention is briefly pulled away from your rough outlaw to the subdued movement outside of the oasis of his tent. There are a few voices muttering softly in the camp, but it’s still early enough where it’s only Mr. Pearson getting food together and Ms. Grimshaw puttering about to help him. The faint hint of fresh-brewing coffee is already carrying through the air to usher you to another day.

The morning sun isn’t too high yet, not even breaking the treeline, casting the camp in subtle grey and lavender hues as the mist rises off the grass. The songbirds are scattered throughout the trees overhead and softly singing their own little songs to welcome the new dawn. You relish these quiet moments in the morning before the camp is awake. But as much as you’d love to stay here forever, you should probably get back to your own tent before anyone sees you creeping out of Arthur’s.

With a reluctant sigh, you carefully roll back from the man, gently lifting his arm and setting it back down in your place. Arthur is so tired that he doesn’t even flinch from your movement. You’re not sure if you are thankful or worried about his state of exhaustion, but there’s not much you can do about it now other than leave him be to get some much-needed rest.

You slowly sit up on the edge of the cot, stretching your arms over your head and cringing at the popping sound from your shoulder. Turning back, your gaze falls to Arthur as he sleeps. He is so handsome. Just looking at him lying there so serenely makes your belly flutter. You are anxious for his hands to be on you again; to feel those large, weathered hands that reached out and touched your heart to be all over you once more. But unfortunately, you are not in a space conducive for love-making whenever you please. With a quiet disappointed sigh, you turn back forward and try to slip away when an arm suddenly snakes around your waist.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” Arthur gruffs out in a sleep-hazed voice.

You quietly giggle as you affectionately wrap your hands around the burly forearm. “I should head back to my tent before I’m noticed.” You look over your shoulder again and see his blue eyes now open, thick with sleep, yet still twinkling at the sight of you.

“I think people have a good idea that we’re together now,” he murmurs as he blinks his eyes to try to keep them open.

“I know. But we should still try to be discreet about it. At least this part, anyway.” Your voice is low and hums in the air, as if trying to keep him all to yourself as you run your fingers over the hair of his arm, drawing lazy circles on his skin.

“I suppose you’re right.” Arthur doesn’t retract his arm, but reluctantly allows you to escape his hold of you.

You stand up and shiver a bit as the brisk morning air envelops your whole body. It's damp and chilly this morning, a sure sign that colder weather is coming soon. Arthur rolls onto his side, his eyes following you as you rub your hands over your arms as goosebumps begin to decorate your skin, popping up like effervescent bubbles.

“See? If you’d stay in bed with me you’d be warm,” he smirks smartly.

“I’d also be late,” you reply back with a grin as you begin to finger-comb your hair into submission. “I wouldn’t want to get up.”

“Hmm…that’s the bitch of it, isn’t it?” That impish grin of his forming on his plump lips. “Well, what can you do about it anyhow?” And Arthur leans forward to grab your hand to try to pull you back onto the cot, which you playfully swat away.

With a slight groan, Arthur moves as if to get up with you, but you are quick to put your hand on his shoulder, halting him in his place. “Ah, ah. You stay right where you are, mister.” He looks at you in confusion. “You could still get away with another hour or two of sleep. And you need it, too. Go back to sleep.”

Arthur shifts back down to the canvas of the cot, tucking his arm behind his head like a pillow as he smirks up at you. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur, you won’t miss anything. I won’t let anything happen while you’re asleep,” you tease, knowing full-well how he has to be up and watchful over everyone at all times. Always the protector.

You tug at your skirt and blouse, making sure everything is straight and where it should be, running your hands over your hair one more time in check. When you're content that you are presentable again, you turn back to place a simple yet sweet little kiss upon Arthur’s lips, pausing to sweep your thumb over his cheekbone before heading over to the tent opening. You discreetly poke your face out to check to see if anyone is watching and then quietly scuttle back to your tent.

—-------------------------------------

As the morning progresses, you and Arthur try to be discreet, but the stolen glances and distractions continue. Trying to stay focused on the daily chores becomes difficult. The girls giggle and tease you about it and you shake your head, trying to wave them off at their nonsense, but it doesn’t stop their curiosity and fun.

With the afternoon sun high in the sky, you are walking with a laundry basket sitting on your hip, picking through the contents, when a hand like a vice grip suddenly clamps down on your arm, pulling you behind a wagon. Your heart jumps up into your throat as the sharp motion causes you to drop your basket and you stumble to keep your footing. A panicked yelp is quickly stifled by someone’s hand over your mouth as you flounder before being spun around and pushed back against the wooden slats of the wagon. When you finally get your bearings, you rapidly blink to see that familiar silhouette in front of you.

“Jesus, Arthur, you scared the hell out of me!” you hiss at him, slapping his chest. He can only reply with a playful, mischievous laugh, those brilliant blue eyes of his dancing back at you. He places his left hand over your head onto the wagon and leans over you, encasing you in towards him. His other large hand comes up around your neck, his thumb pushing your chin up so that your tender lips are easily accessible to him. He leans in and plants his warm mouth onto your own, inhaling as he does as if drawing out your soul.

As your kiss quickly deepens, Arthur pins you against the wooden frame with his own body. His mouth eventually leaves yours and begins nuzzling up on you, leaving a trail over your jawline and down your neck. Your eyes roll back into your head as you submit to his will, quickly getting lost. You slowly bend your leg to rub in between Arthur’s as your arms extend over his shoulders, lacing your fingers behind his head as he leans further down your neck, sucking lightly on your clavicle.

“I want you in the most sinful ways, you know that?” Arthur whispers in your ear. Your only response is a soft little groan. He gently lays his forehead to yours. “When it comes to you, there’s no doubt about it. Just this crazy need to make you mine.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am yours, then, Arthur.” Your eyes lift to his, giving him that look, an eyebrow arched with all of the permissions and suggestions behind it. It's enough to melt his brain. “I was always yours.” Your fingers slide down from his neck to curl around the open collar of his shirt, the tips of your fingers teasingly grazing across his collarbone underneath. “It just took awhile for you to find me, is all.”

You lean up on your toes to catch his lips again and kiss him heatedly before he dips down once more to your neck to that spot behind your ear. You giggle again as his beard scratches across your sensitive skin and you roll your face into his as you cradle your arms around his head, snuggling him closer to you.

“Ahem!”

Suddenly out of nowhere, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. You and Arthur both freeze before slowly turning to the side to see Ms. Grimshaw standing there with an oh-so annoyed look upon her face.

You quickly drop your hands to your sides, face turning bright red at being caught, as Arthur drops his head down, looking sheepishly at his feet. Suddenly you feel like kids being caught sneaking out of the barn by your mother.

“Aren't you supposed to be doing something, Miss Y/L/N?” Ms Grimsahw barks, eyebrows arched expectantly at you.

“Yes, Ma’am,” you confess, biting your lip nervously.

She then turns her bubbling temper to your partner in crime. “Arthur, do you need something to do?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Ms. Grimshaw stands in silent judgment for a moment and you can see the gears turning in her sharp head. “Is this going to be a problem?” She huffs, waving her finger at you both before firmly planting her hands on her hips.

“No, Ma’am”, you both respond in unison, trying not to laugh under her intensifying scrutiny.

This isn’t the first time Ms. Grimshaw has caught people messing about, and frankly she couldn’t care any less who’s diddling who in this camp. As long as it doesn’t interfere with her work, that is. (She has a hard enough time keeping Karen and Sean focused.) But you and Arthur are new at this, acting like a couple of love-dumb teenagers, so she’s trying not to be too harsh about it. To be honest, it kind of warms her black heart.

After a few more awkward moments of silence, Ms Grimshaw turns and walks away, shaking her head. But unseen by you and Arthur, a little grin pops up on her stern face. “Idiots”, she mumbles.

When you are in the clear, you and Arthur both exhale with relief to be spared the matron’s wrath any longer.

“Thanks a lot, you got me in trouble,” Arthur jokingly swats your shoulder with the back of his hand.

‘What?! Me?! You started it!” You smack his chest back.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” he smirks. “I mean, really, the nerve of some people. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss (Y/L/N). Attacking me in broad daylight like that. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He plays innocent, placing his hand on his chest and feigning offense.

“Arthur, I swear to God…!” You bend over and snatch up the bar of laundry soap laying in the grass and whip it at him. Arthur hops up on one leg, quickly dodging the projectile to avoid being pelted with it.

“You move pretty good for an old man,” you tease, tucking that always-stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Woman, you have no idea yet. Just you wait.” He flashes those eyes again at you. The taunt alone makes the butterflies in your stomach swirl. Arthur leans in to you with a suggestive grin as his thick fingers trail across your stomach and over your hips. “Now get back to work.”

—------------------------------------------

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Arthur manage to behave yourselves. Now that Ms. Grimshaw is wise to your antics, she has been watching you like a hawk. She doesn’t need another “Karen and Sean” in camp, especially if it’s two of the hardest working people there. Of course the woman isn’t going to be heartless about it. But she does have a camp to run, afterall.

Currently, you are over by the food wagon. With the autumn vegetables coming into harvest, you are trying your hand at a corn chowder to serve the gang. You’re hoping it will be a welcomed change from Mr Pearson’s usual stew that is served more often than not. Hopefully if it is well received, you’ll be able to can some of the thick soup for the upcoming winter months.

A plethora of spices and herbs permeates the air as you stir the simmering mixture in the large cast-iron kettle that hangs over the fire. You sing quietly to yourself, watching the golden mixture bubble hypnotically as bits of bright orange carrots and deep brown potato skins dance as they soften to a delightful texture. Satisfied with the state of things for now, you set the ladle aside and walk a few paces back to the work table to cut up the fresh biscuits you baked earlier to go with your dinner.

As you work, Arthur walks over to you, casually leaning his shoulder into the side of the wagon. He takes the cigarette that dangles precariously from his lips between his thumb and fingers and flicks it into the cool grass. “Hey you.”

“Hey you,” you beam back at him. “What are you up to?”

Every time. Every damn time, that look of brightness and excitement in your face to see him sets Arthur’s tired soul alight, bringing him back to life just a bit more.

“Nuthin.” The corners of his mouth tug up into a grin. He folds his arms over his chest, watching your hands for a moment as your delicate fingers sort the fluffy biscuits into a basket and cover them with a white muslin cloth.

His watchful eyes dart around as he tries to act inconspicuous before he leans in a bit closer to you.

“So I was thinking, maybe we could get together again tonight?”

You give him a questioning look at first, but when those crystal blue eyes flash at you and the corners of his lips begin to pull up even more, you know exactly what he means.

“Oh! Here in camp?” you ask surprised, your face dusting pink at the thought of it.

“Gonna have to sooner or later, right?” Arthur tilts his head with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.

You think about it for a moment, contemplating the option. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you say slowly, letting the idea sink in a moment. You’ve waited so long for him, so the thought that you could be together whenever you want now is exciting. Plus, your first time together was just so heavenly, you honestly can’t wait for another go at it.

“Okay, then.” Your face lights up as the blush of your cheek deepens. You turn to look about as well, sharing in this cute little secret plan of his. “I can come by your tent later tonight? After everyone turns in?” you suggest, an air of hushed eagerness in your voice.

The elated expression on Arthur’s face is priceless. “Alright. Sounds like a plan, then.” Like a little kid waiting for Christmas, you can see him trying to contain his excitement. Arthur didn’t think you’d be quick to spurn him, but he has to admit, he wasn’t so sure if you’d be so readily willing to fall into his arms again so quickly.

He holds your gaze as if there is something else he wants to say or do, but only simply nods. He runs the back of his forefinger along your upper arm as he pushes himself up and off the wagon and leaves you to finish what you're doing, heading over to the fire.

You smile brightly and nibble your bottom lip as you watch Arthur stroll over with a swagger in his step as he joins Javier at the nearest fire, his attention keenly refocused on the gun in his friend’s hand. It must be a new one Javier found as Arthur takes the gun and flips it around in his hand, evaluating it. He opens the chamber and squints to look through it, checking the straightness of it. He spins the barrel and evaluates the weight of it in his oversized hand.

Watching Arhtur handle this gun as if it were a simple kitchen utensil, you are suddenly filled with a bit of apprehension. You have never been afraid to be in Arthur’s presence, but it fills you with a sense of dread to hold him so dear to your heart like this, knowing that any moment could be the last time you set eyes on him. Being with a wanted outlaw, being with Arthur Morgan of all outlaws, is going to come with that level of fear. He warned you of this and it wasn’t until now that you fully comprehend his caution. It makes the fire within you that burns for him all the more intense. As your feelings for Arthur deepen by the very hour, if that’s even possible, this is something that you are going to have to be mindful of. And, take advantage of the time together whenever you have it.

—-----------------------------------------

Night has fallen across the camp, the sounds of chirping crickets and the occasional hooting owl echoing in the background as you stand in your tent. It’s another chilly night yet you are warm with exhilaration. The idea of being with Arthur again tonight has been all you could think about all day since he mentioned it.

You dress in your newer nightgown for your amorous rendezvous, one that is a simple white cotton with white silky ribbon sewn into the hems. It has wider shoulder straps, leaving you arms exposed and hugs your bustline nicely as it cascades over your chest, creating a white waterfall of textured fabric and falls to mid-calf length.

You look yourself over in your little mirror, primping and touching-up. Voluminous locks of hair spill over your bare shoulders, but you have pulled the sides back with a white ribbon to match your nightgown. Deft fingers comb through your hair, curling the pieces just so. Slightly trembling fingertips dab a bit of red rouge to the apple of your cheeks, as well as your soft lips.

Your hands fidget over your body, smoothing everything out, as you wince just a bit in self-consciousness at your curves. You wish you had a more attractive body to offer, but it is what it is. Arthur has already seen you naked, so there should be no surprises, yet you are still thankful to have the modest covering of your nightgown. You grab the green shawl that took you several months to ineptly knit and wrap it around your shoulders as a finishing touch.

Suddenly, you hear your name softly called out in the darkness outside of the tent. A smile instantly blooms across your face at the sound of your lover’s gravelly southern drawl. You skip over the few paces to the opening and pull back the tent flap to see Arthur standing there.

“Hey you,” you whisper in a hushed tone, careful not to wake anyone.

Arthur nods to you in greeting, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling at the sight of you. “Can I come in?” he asks, his gruff voice equally as hushed as yours.

“Of course!” and you step aside, allowing his large frame to slip inside your space unnoticed by the others as you quickly close the opening behind him.

“Change of - woa!” he exclaims, instantly distracted once he finally turns and gets a good look at you in the lamplight. His eyes dance up and down the length of your whole body, drinking you in from your beautiful hair down to your delicately slippered feet. The golden glow of the oil lamp gives you an even softer look about yourself, the orange flame flickering in your large, sparkling eyes as you look up at him.

Arthur’s reaction catches you off-guard and you self-consciously look down at yourself, wondering what you missed or could have done to yourself so quickly. “What? What’s wrong?” Your hands immediately start to smooth over the nightgown, searching for the offending item.

“You…you look…amazing!” he stutters in wonderment. Even with his earlier new-found bravado, it still floors Arthur that someone so beautiful, so wonderful, could be waiting for the likes of him. You are a white lily flower standing in your tent, graceful and delicate. And it comes as a stark reminder of just how damn lucky he is. Arthur wonders if you truly have any idea what sort of a man you have invited into your tent.

Astonished eyes blink back at him, speechless at his response for a moment. Your cheeks flush ruby-red and warm, and you cast your eyes down with a grin, nervously tucking that same lock behind your ear.

Clearing his throat, Arthur shifts his weight from hip to hip and gives his head a quick shake in an attempt to refocus his train of thought. “Change of plans. Not gonna work in my tent tonight. Dutch and Molly are still awake and fightin’ again. And that usually leads to ‘other things’ as well.” He rolls his eyes. For whatever reason, the last time the gang moved, Arthur’s tent, which he usually likes to be setup away from other people, was placed closer to Dutch. There was alot going on at that time, and it was probably for Dutch’s convenience and easier access to his right-hand man. But now, it is causing a bit of a “logistics problem” for the two of you.

“Maybe we can stay here?” Arthur poses hopefully, waving his hand towards your cot.

You bite the inside of your lip at the thought of it. “We’re kinda close to the girls,” you worry, tilting your head in the direction of their shared tent just on the other side of yours. “Do you think we can be that quiet?”

A laugh huffs out of his nose as a smirk creeps across Arthur’s face.“You forget, I’m used to taken care of myself that way before you came along.” He shifts his weight on his hips again as his thumbs settle confidently onto his belt.

You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a humored look. “Right, because only men need that,” you say with that signature hint of sarcasm before the eyeroll comes. The statement causes Arthur to look at you in surprise, not expecting such a thing from a woman. The thought of you touching yourself in the solitude of your tent at night causes a sudden rush of blood to his groin.

“I can be quiet if you can. But history says otherwise,” he snickers.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who was making noise that night,” you remind him with a look that is equally as smug as you cross your arms over your chest.

God, you are just so fiery. You have a spark in you, a fire about you that Arthur finds so irresistible. He hopes that you never let anyone extinguish that part of yourself. A sense of pride begins to bloom through his chest, knowing that he’s the one that you’ve chosen above all others for yourself.

Arthur steps up closer to you, placing his large, strong hands on your hips and looking down at you expectantly with that look of escalating desire as your own hands unfold from their place on your chest and float up to grace his forearms. Your fingers wrap around the lower part of his arms, your fingertips barely able to meet due to the bulk of muscle there. The feeling of his skin beneath your fingers is enough to ignite the awaiting heat in your stomach and you have to take a deep, steadying breath to calm the thundering in your chest.

“Okay fine. We can try it here,” you shyly concede. You let go of him and walk a few steps to the large trunk at the foot of your cot that Arthur and Charles had pilfered off of a robbery for you. You quietly open the lid and pull out the large winter comforter that you are saving for colder weather. Shaking it out, the thick material waves in the air, and floats down flat on the ground, making Arthur step back a few paces to make room.

“What’s this for?” he asks as he watches you pull your blankets off your cot next. “We picnickin’ now?”

“My cot is even squeakier than yours,” you joke as you start to pull any pillows and blankets you have to lay down as well. “Any fooling around we do on that thing is sure to let others know what’s going on in here.”

As Arthur watches you fix your literal “lovenest”, a troubled look suddenly clouds his handsome, chiseled face.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You casually look up at him out of the corner of your eye as you get the make-shift bed ready.

“What if it's not as good the second time around? I mean, what if the first time was a fluke?”

The hesitation is heavy on his face. That first night together in the hunting shelter was so perfect, so divine. He can’t imagine anything shattering that little slice of heaven that he’s saved for himself in his mind.

As you stand straight again, you offer him such a radiant smile. “That night was amazing, Arthur. Absolutely amazing,” you agree emphatically. “So if we are even half that good this time, it's still going to be pretty damn good.”

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. You’re right. Nothing is probably ever going to compare to that night. But, he’s certainly up for the challenge.

With his mind at ease, Arthur opens his arms to you and you stride over and curl up against him. You inhale and sigh deeply, taking in the notes of leather and cigarettes mingled with his own scent. He holds you close and affectionately kisses the top of your head before lowering his chin to reach your lips with his own. His hands gently land on either side of your face, pulling you in closer for the kiss. Your own hands instinctively find their way to Arthur's ribs, fingers splayed around the mass of him to feel as much as possible before tightly fisting up the material of his shirt to pull him closer to you. You can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. You feel safe here. You feel looked-after and cared for in his arms. And this is just what you need.

What starts as lazy kisses intensifies with that deep breathing and eventual hip pull. Arthur’s lips show no mercy as they begin to work feverishly over yours, desperate for more. And your own body betrays you as you shiver with each kiss, your knees already falling weak.

The air fills with muffled sounds of wet kisses and quiet moans as you both try to be quiet. Your nimble fingers start to impatiently pull at the buttons of his black shirt, while his own hands are preoccupied with gripping your arms before dropping to cup the supple flesh of your rear. Layers of clothing begin to quickly become unfastened and discarded as the intimacy rapidly escalates. Restless and busy hands fumble over each other, sometimes crossing the other person’s, fighting for access to the other.

For a second, your mind flashes back to your previous thoughts of how every moment with Arthur could be your last, and how he could be snatched from you at any time. The idea emboldens you now, making you desperate to keep Arthur to you. You reach down and cup his rapidly growing bulge over his trousers, palming it in your hand, gently squeezing and massaging. A guttural groan of yearning rumbles up from his chest as Arthur angles his hips into your hand. With your lips still locked together and panting hotly into each others’ mouths, you move to make quick work of unbuttoning his pants, pushing the fabric back to get your hand underneath.

Your palm finds Arthur’s thick cock, already half-hard from anticipation. You begin to stroke as much as the confines of his pants will allow, causing his member to twitch in your skilled hand. Your thumb rubs over his tip, already becoming wet, and he breathes hotly against your skin.

His rough hands have already tossed aside your shawl and pulled the shoulder strap of your nightgown down for full access to the soft skin of your shoulder where he has already placed hot, wet kisses and slight bite marks. Arthur pulls the fabric further down your bicep to expose your breast which he immediately clamps his mouth onto, his tongue flicking against the pebbling nipple. Your hand reaches and curls tightly into his hair as your head drops back, your mouth gaped open.You are hardly able to contain the moan that is desperate to escape your throat.

The man already has your head spinning. You’d love to see Arthur completely bare again, like you were the first time at the hunting shelter. You want nothing more than to run your hands along his massive, strong chest and arms; to feel those burly thighs of his pressed around your hips. The idea of rolling around together, completely bare and skin to skin, is so tantalizing to you both. But you are in camp this time with nothing between you two and the rest of the gang except a thin layer of canvas. Plus, you had a fire there the last time to stave off the chill air. So your clothing will need to stay on while you are in camp and you’ll have to work around it. Out of sheer impatience and modesty, you manage to get Arthur’s shirt open enough to run your warm hand over his chest and push his pants down to his thick thighs.

Without letting go of each other for a mere second, you both ungracefully lower yourselves to the ground upon the nest of blankets, lips still locked with each clumsy and impatient movement. You manage to win the dominance of the moment and push Arthur down beneath you, his back up against your cot as you twist around and swing your leg over his hip to straddle him. Your hands wrap around his face and neck, pulling him to you as your tongues wrestle over each other’s. Arthur’s hands knead the tender flesh of your sides before running up your back, clutching at the base of your neck and tightly wrapping around your waist.

The first time you and Arthur made love together was sweet and passionate, carrying that innocent frailty of being unsure and exploratory. But this time, that seal of the unknown has been broken already. This time, it is more hot and carnal, a desperate need to replenish the high that you both have already experienced and know is lingering under the surface and waiting to be unleashed once again.

You rock back and forth on the outlaw’s lap, rubbing yourself against his ever-hardening cock. Your mouth breathes hotly into his mouth. Arthur feels so amazing beneath you that, like an addict dependent on their drug of choice, you have to have more of him.

It's probably indecent how much you want him, but you really don’t care. Because you know he certainly doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. And you realize that nothing is indecent as long as you’re with the right person. And that is when you lose all of yourself to the man underneath you, giving in to your desire so completely, trusting that when you fall, Arthur will be there to catch you. You squeeze his face in your hands, pulling him in to you, squishing his cheeks slightly in the process.

Arthur is constantly on your mind. Your need and craving for him, for his hands to touch you, to press yourself up against his strong body, is a persistent ache, especially after that night in the woods. It’s as if his hands left permanent fingerprints scattered across your body. You yearn for Arthur when you are apart, and when you are together, even in the most innocent of circumstances, you just want to breathe him in and convince him that you are his.

Arthur releases the hold around your waist and hastily pulls the bottom of your nightgown up around your hips. He drops his hand between you two, seeking your heat as his wrist rubs against your pelvis with your persistent rocking. With all obstructions out of the way, his thick fingers begin to rake across your folds, basting themselves in the wetness that is quickly emanating from you.

With your face squished against his, a soft groan ushers out of your mouth as his middle finger pushes up into you. Arthur slowly pumps in and out, waking up that bundle of nerves that are nestled so gently there. When his second finger joins the first, you have to bite your lower lip at the sheer feeling of it. Your breath quickens and your hands grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the meat of his muscles. Your eyes roll closed and you begin to grind down onto his hand as he thrusts upward at the same time, shaking his hand back and forth in stimulation. Arthur’s motions draw impassioned squeaks out of you, eventually pulling his name from your trembling lips to be whispered against his temple. His thick fingers write poetry inside of you, rubbing and curling against that perfect spot.

Just as before, Arthur watches your face and body as he touches you. He is totally mesmerized by how someone so horrible as himself could inflict such pleasure; how hands that could do such damage could still hold something so precious as yourself. He leans forward and leaves nibbling bites along your jaw, making you even crazier with ecstasy.

Arthur holds you so tightly that all of his own anxiety melts away instantly. And he realizes that you are the key; the key to his sanity, to his well-being. His restless hands hold you like you are the missing piece to his broken soul, as if he is trying to mend you into himself. It is here with you, with you entwined in his arms, that Arthur gets to forget the ugliness of your daily lives. The stealing, the killing, the running, all of it; it's a distant thought in his mind right now. All he can focus on right now is you.

You pull back from Arthur’s face to look him in the eye as you lift yourself up a bit onto your knees. You push his hand from your heat before wrapping your hand around his cock. You give it a couple of slow pumps, relishing the feeling of the hard, thick muscle in your hand. You line yourself up to him and slowly sink back down, allowing his size to fill you so perfectly.

Your mouth gapes and hisses at the fullness of it and Arthur lets out a faint whimper of ecstasy of his own as the two of you conjoin once again.

Pausing only long enough to meet and hold his gaze, you begin to move atop of him. You quickly figure out that if you grind your hips in a circular motion, it rubs with the most exquisite friction. Arthur’s eyes become heavy-lidded and he lazily clunks his forehead to yours in a moment of pure weakness at the new sensation.

You move slowly at first, clenching your muscles around his cock as you pull up and down, but you just simply can’t maintain that pace. You are hungry and burning for him, and selfishly you give in to your own needs. You build up speed, each thrust of your hips gaining more momentum. A sharp huff emanates from him as he falls forward even more to lean his forehead onto your shoulder. There, his lips bury into your soft skin and he tries to muffle his uncontrollable moans and grunts.

Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of you coming completely unraveled before his very eyes. He feels your trembling fingers digging into his skin and watches your face contort with pleasure as you ride him. It's a thing of such beauty, such awesomeness that he has no words to describe it. His head dips lower as his plump lips land to that sweet spot of soft skin on your chest just above your breasts. The sensitive porcelain-smooth skin reddens as his beard stubble scratches delightfully against it, setting your nerves on fire. Arthur clutches you even closer to him as you snap your hips back and forth, chasing that lightning that you know is on the horizon for you.

You begin to moan and pant even faster and louder now. Your hand desperately grasps at him as your arm encircles his shoulders while the other one reaches behind you and pushes against his thigh to support yourself. A beautiful fog clouds your rational thinking as you get so caught up in the blissful moment.

Too caught up.

The lines around Arthur’s eyes crinkle a bit in amusement. “You’re gonna have to try to be quieter, sweetheart,” Arthur muses. “You’re gonna get us caught.” His hand comes up to brush a few rogue strands of hair away from your eyes, before cradling your face and smashing his mouth into yours in an attempt to swallow your bewitching little sounds. But being quiet is proving to be easier said than done.

“Do you want…to stop…what we’re doing?” you ask between breaths, slightly annoyed at the light-hearted criticism.

“Hell no.” He pants out matter of factly.

“Then you try to hush it!” And you grind down especially hard to make your point. His stiff cock rams into your back wall; the tightness of your heat clenches unrelentingly around him. Arthur stifles a lustful whimper with your unexpected movement, and his head turns and eyes screw down tightly. It takes a moment for him to regain composure and he slowly opens those majestic sapphire eyes again to stare you down.

“Is that the game you wanna play, little miss?” Arthur growls out, his expression dark and lustful.

Your only response is a suggestive and taunting eyebrow lift as you continue to bop up and down, completely unaware of the beast that you have just unleashed with your salacious behavior.

In an instant, Arthur flips you from his lap to your back, causing a yelp from your throat, and he is quick to roll on top of you. His intense eyes stare you down like a predator. Those eyes alone can fill you with a need and desire like no other, even in the shadows of the night. His firm lips on your body fill you with fire, and the way he works his tongue over yours could easily make you forget your own name.

Arthur’s grip on you is firm and solid. Not rough, exactly, but not gentle either. He comes up on his knees a bit, and forces his pants down a bit farther on his thighs to give him more flexibility to move. Large hands shove your nightgown up past your ribs. Arthur holds you exactly where he needs you to be, making it clear in unspoken terms that you are not to move. His chest heaves with hunger and you can’t take your wide and shining eyes off of him. He is magnificent.

One of his hands hooks under one of your tender thighs and Arthur pushes it up to your chest. He holds it there with his broad chest as he leans over you, scissoring you as he wraps his free hand around his cock. When Arthur pushes his solid, heavy member into you once again, it stretches you in a whole different angle, leaving you absolutely breathless.

He is in total control of your body now as he ruts deep and fast. The new position pulls on the back of your thigh, but it’s nothing compared to the new-found stretch inside of you. Arthur’s massive hand clamps over your mouth in an effort to muffle your moans and whimpers while he supports himself with his other hand set next to your head. Once he gets his bearings, Arthur leans forward even more as his face sinks into the side of your neck, huffing out hot, humid air onto your tingling skin. And you try so, so desperately to be quiet.

You lose all track of your senses as you are completely overwhelmed by them. Arthur is so handsome, so perfect. He is hard as lightning, yet can be as soft as candlelight. His strong, muscled body encompasses your own as he covers you. The very sight of him is enough to make you come undone if you thought about him long enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders as you angle your hips upward to meet the pounding of his as your breath races to keep up with his relentless pace.

In a brief window of clarity, Arthur makes a mental note to take you somewhere where you don’t have to be so quiet next time. He took for granted how loud you two could be, briefly forgetting how intense the first time was. He absolutely loves the sounds you make for him and he’s a bit resentful that he has to try to silence you and deny himself that simple pleasure. Your little moans and gasps make him grasp you even tighter; to push that much deeper and to squeeze that much harder as his mind is set afire. The hard ground beneath you digs into your back from his unrelenting force, even with the cushion of the blankets.

Athur relishes the way your body rocks back and forth as he rolls his hips into yours. Like a puppet, you move with each of his administrations. He can’t get over how you respond to his touch. Whether he is soft and caressing or rough and lustful, how can you be so pliable, so accepting to him?

He doesn’t last as long as the first time you were together, being too wound up with anticipation this time. But then again, neither do you with that pinnacle coming hard and fast just as before. Once again, the two of you are in perfect sync. Arthur can tell when you’ve hit your climax first, as your body spasms sharply beneath him and a euphoric yet muffled whimper escapes under his hand that is still clamped over your mouth. He can feel your calf muscle tighten sharply against his shoulder as your toes curl as the orgasm overtakes you. Then, your whole body goes limp with exhaustion, no longer able to maintain the energy to stay with him. This causes Arthur to push even faster to chase his own release. A few more greedy thrusts before he pulls his hips back, releasing his warm seed upon your abdomen with a satisfied grunt.

When he’s sure you have control of yourself, Arthur releases his hand from your mouth, setting it next to your head, opposite his other. His head hangs exhaustedly between his shoulders as he hovers over your trembling body. Panting heavily, Arthur lowers himself to his elbows, cradling you to himself, but trying not to crush you in the process.

Once again, Arthur worries if he’s been too rough with you in his overzealous excitement. But that is quickly dispelled when you lift up to nuzzle your face into his cheek, your arms still gripping tightly around his shoulders. You pull Arthur down to lay overtop of you, eager to feel his warm skin against yours. He hums contently as he comes down from his rapturous high and his heartbeat tries to slow.

“Not gonna lie, but I could really get used to this” he mutters as he places soft kisses to the cuff of your ear and then over your eyebrow. He rolls over to his back, yet still close enough that his arm lays up against yours. You both lie next to each other panting and trying to catch your breath, staring up at the canvas ceiling of your tent. The slight burn between your legs faintly pulsates, leaving you feeling spent and your legs like jelly.

“You’re right though, we’ll have to work on being more quiet,” you giggle softly, turning your head to smile sheepishly at him. Arthur reaches down to entwine his thick fingers with your soft, delicate ones and lifts your hand to kiss them. After a moment, you reach over and grab one of your hand towels to clean yourself before handing it to Arthur and adjusting your nightgown to cover yourself again.

“I’m up for more practicin’. Just so you know,” he snickers as he wipes himself down and proceeds to pull his trousers back up around his hips.

Arthur leans over you to toss the towel onto your cot then comes up on his side, head propped up on his hand and elbow so he can look down on you. In return, you roll on your side to face him, your arm comfortably tucked under your head as a pillow.

“I may never leave the tent, if that’s the case,” you reply seductively.

“You’d get sick of me real quick.”

“I don’t know, I’d find ways to entertain myself with you.” You roll even closer to him and wrap your hand around the back of his head to pull him to you and begin to playfully nibble on his ear.

Another soft chuckle bubbles its way out of his broad chest. “Miss (Y/L/N), you're makin’ me blush.”

You draw back to see his face again. “If everyone else was unkind to you in the past, then I want to make up for that.” And you deliver a delicate kiss upon his nose.

“There’s a reason for that, ya know,” he raises an eyebrow in warning to you.

“I’m not too worried about it.” You run your fingers through his hair and stare into his eyes, giving him the most loving smile. Arthur quietly stares into your face, his thumb drawing softly against your hip where his hand comfortably rests.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” He kisses the pad of your thumb as you sweep it across his chapped lips as he speaks.

“I could say the same about you.” Another soft giggle leaves your lips.

“You’ll be disappointed when you find out,” he says flatly.

It takes a moment, but your face turns into a slight frown of disapproval and your eyes catch an unhappy gleam in them. “You need to stop this, Arthur.” Getting a little exasperated, you reluctantly separate from him and his warmth and slowly sit up, leaning back against the cot. You wrap one of the blankets around yourself, drawing your knee up to your chest.

Arthur’s expression quickly turns to worry, afraid he’s already screwed something up. “I’m sorry, did I make you mad?”

You look down as your fingers nervously play with the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “A little. This needs to stop, Arthur. I know you’re not used to being treated kindly, but we really need to change that.” Your chin lifts again as you give him a look of slight admonishment.

His eyebrows pull together in shame. “What’s the point?” he pouts.

“What’s the-?” You rapidly blink back at him, totally flabbergasted. “Because I lo-…!”

And you stop short in your speech, eyes widened. Your heart beats so fast and hard that you can hear it in your ears. It's too soon for you to say those three simple little words. You just got Arthur to admit he has feelings, period. You don’t want to spook him any more than you already have. So you'll have to reel this topic in for now.

All in good time.

“Because it hurts my heart to hear you talk about yourself like that, is all.” You quickly backpedal, tucking loose pieces of your hair behind your ear again as you avert Arthur’s gaze for a moment, hoping he missed your slip-up. Fortunately, he’s so preoccupied with your sad face that he missed the intention of what you were just about to say.

Arthur gives you a guilty look. He never, ever wants to be the reason for any discomfort to you, even if it means he’s going to have to be kinder to himself. You are going to call Arthur out on his bull-shit; that’s something he’s going to have to get used to.

“‘M sorry.” He sits himself up now as well, set right in front of you. He gently takes your chin in between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll try. I promise.” His blue eyes look deep into your own in earnest to try to instill his words and convince you of his intention. He reaches down and takes your hand again and kisses the back of it before engulfing it with his own two in an attempt of an apology.

“I want to show you what it’s like to be held the way you should be,” you say softly. Your other hand floats out to rest over his heart, feeling how it flutters beneath your palm. “You are nothing that I expected to find here when I first met you, Arthur. But you are quickly becoming everything that I have ever wanted. I know you think that you’re full of disappointment. But I promise you, there’s a huge part of you in there that is worth keeping.”

Arthur stares back at you, slightly slack-jawed. His head tilts ever so slightly as if he’s about to say something, but whatever it is catches in his throat. His eyes glisten slightly from the mist gathering in the corners. Even in the golden shadows of your tent’s lamplight, you can see the crimson rise from Arthur's cheeks up to the tips of his ears as a smile slowly creeps across his handsome face before he has to avert his gaze from yours to collect himself.

He places his hand overtop of yours on his chest, holding it there as if afraid you’ll retract your offer. Your words not only cut into him, but they nest there like a seed about to germinate and flower, blossoming into something beautiful for the whole world to see. Sometimes it’s best not to overthink, not to question too much and wonder why. Arthur just needs to stop and take a deep breath, and, as Dutch says, have faith that all will work out for the best.

“We’re both broken, Arthur,” you breathe, your voice gentle and angelic in the quiet night. “But I think we just fit together so right. Don’t you?” Your glinting eyes burrow into him so deeply when he lifts his chin again to meet your smile.

“God, I hope so,” he whispers.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been several days since you and Arthur have “officially” become a couple. And you are quickly settling into a comfortable routine. While you try to be discreet about the relationship and still have that jovial interaction publically, there is definitely a distinctive difference in how the two of you interact with each other.

The shy and awkward glances and innocent flirting have given way to more assertive touching and possession. You and Arthur have always gotten on well together and everyone else could plainly see the attraction between the two of you, even when you yourselves could not. And now that it is all out in the open and acknowledged, it is as if the two of you have already been together for years.

There is the unspoken responsibility for the other one that is always present; one that is tinged with love and respect. It’s a familiarity that usually comes with time and experience. But it is as if you and Arthur are old souls, already having been tied together since before you even met.

They say that love has no bounds: not time, location or circumstances can dictate how love will present itself. To have rules and restrictions is a losing battle. Like water cutting through the rocky terrain of a mountain canyon, love will cut its way through and carve out a whole new landscape for those blessed with its presence.

Today, Arthur has just gotten back from a two-day stint out hunting for food and supplies for the gang. You wanted to go out with him, but since he was doing more than hunting, Arthur had taken Charles out instead, leaving you safely behind. It was kind of annoying at the time, but just as Arthur needs to get used to you being so nice to him, you are going to have to get used to Arthur being so protective of you. You are a precious jewel to him and he will stop at nothing to make sure that you are safe.

Of course, the minute he’s back in camp, Arthur is called into Dutch’s tent for some damn thing. You sit at the table with some of the girls, mending one of Jack’s shirts, as your eyes follow his tired form lumbering over towards Dutch before returning your attention back to your work. Molly is sitting off to the side of you and looks up from her book as she notices Arthur’s return as well.

��It’s about time they got back,” she mutters out loud. “Let me know when he’s done in there with Dutch. I need him to run into town for me.” She lifts her chin in Arthur’s direction.

You blink your eyes incredulously at her before a hard frown settles on your face. An irritated sigh huffs out of your mouth as you drum your fingers impatiently on the tabletop. You look at Molly and as calmly as you can, you simply utter “No”.

Molly looks at you for a moment, as if confused by your statement.

“You’re going to have to send someone else, or wait until later when Arthur has rested up a bit.” You try your best to speak calmly yet firmly to her, as this is a subject that you are not going to yield on.

Molly’s green eyes flash at you as the irritation is clearly visible on her beautiful face. “What?!”

“I’m sorry, what was the confusing part for you?” You tilt your head at her. “The ‘no’ or the ‘you have to wait’ part?”

“Who the hell are you to decide anything around here?” the red-head snaps at you. “What, are you Arthur’s keeper now?”

“Apparently, because no one else around here is going to look after him. He does everything around here.” Your own voice begins to escalate as you wave your hand at the expanse of the camp. “The least you could do is give him a break between requests!”

Tilly and Abigail look at each other nervously as they watch the exchange, not sure if they want to get caught in the middle of an impending catfight.

At this point Arthur emerges out of Dutch’s tent and slowly makes his way through the camp, the exhaustion evident on his body. Giving Molly a quick scowl, you abruptly get up from the table and walk over to Arthur before anyone can approach him about anything else. You stop right in front of him, causing him to halt and lift his chin at you, a faint smile emerging on his face.

“Hey you”, you say softly, smiling at him.

“Hey”, Arthur counters. The minute he lays those blue eyes of his on you, the tension immediately begins to subside within his body.

You reach out and gently grab his gloved hand. “Come with me, please.” And you lead Arthur towards his tent.

“Um, okay,” he replies, a bit confused. For a moment, Arthur thinks you are dragging him to his tent for some “amorous attention”, but he quickly dismisses that idea when he notices the slight irritation in your step.

Once inside his tent, you sit him down on his cot. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed over your chest, assessing his current state. “You look dead tired.” Your eyes are laced with concern.

“Yeah, I feel dead tired, too. Took me ten minutes to get down from my damn horse, I think,” he complains as he drags his hand over his haggard face that is past-due for a shave.

“Okay, then,” you insist definitively. “You stay in here, lay down and get some rest. I’ll go get you something to eat. Don't you move from this tent, understand?” you instruct as you point your finger at him. “I don’t want anyone asking you to do anything for awhile.”

“Y/N, I appreciate that, but there’s work to be done around here.” He motions towards the camp before his hand falls limply into his lap.

“Don’t care right now,” as you are quick to shut that idea down. “Either someone else can do it for once, or it will have to wait a bit. If I have to, I’ll take care of it myself.” Your eyes are wide, with your eyebrows launched into your hairline and your body rigid.

“Okay, I guess.” Arthur smiles, pursing his lips a bit. He’s not used to someone helping him, let alone putting his needs first. He can tell by the look on your face right now that there is no arguing with you about this, either. Apparently, he’s not the only one in camp that one doesn’t want to piss off.

Satisfied with his submission to your request, you turn and head out of the tent. Arthur just grins, shaking his head at your nonsense. His eyes cast down to his boots, half tempted to pull them off, but quickly gives up with the thought of the physical exertion of it. He takes a long, deep sigh, leaning out on his knees with his elbows, letting the stiff muscles of his back slowly unwrap themselves. He slowly wiggles his head back and forth, trying to get his neck to “crack” and release the tension sitting there.

“Where are you going?”

Arthur hears your voice piercing through the air off in the distance and turns his head towards the commotion. He immediately notices that you’ve caught Sean trying to head over to the tent.

“I was just-” Sean sputters, pointing at Arthur’s tent.

“Nope, no. Don’t even think about it!” you snap sharply.

“Yeah, but-” the little man attempts to protest again, but you just are not having any of it.

“I don’t care! Whatever it is that you need, go find Charles. And you keep your ass away from that tent! Understand?”

“Ugh, fine!” Sean huffs out a pout and stalks off to find Charles.

The sight makes Arthur chuckle in amusement at your protectiveness. “That’s my girl.” He lays back on his cot with a groan and closes his eyes, tossing his hat onto his chair.

—------------------------------------

As the late afternoon breeze carries through the camp, it gently lifts a few ruby and topaz-colored leaves to skip across the cool grass. You’ve managed to keep everyone away from Arthur upon his return to camp, allowing him to rest a bit for once. After he’d eaten something, you discreetly tugged on his arm and pulled him away, wandering off to find a quiet spot. You both know it's only a matter of time before Arthur is called away from you for one thing or another, so you try to steal whatever quiet moments you can together.

You sit peacefully under a tree at the edge of camp with Arthur’s head in your lap. Your fingertips absentmindedly curl themselves in that triangle of exposed skin between the top buttons of his union suit and shirt, playing with his chest hair. His hat is pulled over his eyes to shield them from the bright autumn sun, now starting to make its descent for the day. The sun’s rays sprinkle a peppered sunlight across your nose, gently warming your face. You read your book and hum softly to yourself until you hear Arthur’s soft snores in your lap, making you smile down at him.

Soon, you see Hosea approaching from the side. The crunching of leaves under his worn black boots causes your head to lift in his direction. He instantly halts when he sees Arthur’s hat pulled over his eyes. You put a finger to your lips in a shushing motion.

“He’s sleeping,” you mouth quietly.

“Oh,” Hosea silently mouths in return. He stands there a minute, observing the tranquil scene in front of him. A certain sense of pride and even relief settles over Hosea’s chest as he observes you and Arthur together, sitting so untroubled and content. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see his adopted son so happy again.

“Well, when he wakes up, let him know I need to see him, won’t you?” the older man whispers.

You smile and nod and Hosea quietly turns around to walk back towards the camp.

After a few moments, Arthur’s voice murmurs “I ain’t sleepin’, you know.” His hat is still lowered, but you can catch a glimpse of his lips curling into a grin under it.

“Shhh. I just bought you about another twenty minutes of peace and quiet. Don’t ruin it.” You lift the corner of his hat and peer under it. “And, yes you were. You were snoring.” You playfully drop the hat back onto his face resulting in a light laugh to huff out of him.

He gives himself a few more minutes of calm, but eventually, Arthur rolls himself up with a groan. He casually reaches over and grabs your thigh, tickling it and making you giggle and squirm. He’s slow to stand up, reluctant to move, as his knees make a slight popping sound. He brushes the grass off of his butt and leans over to grab your chin to kiss you on the lips and then your forehead.

“Thanks for the nap, darlin’” He gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The smile you return is one of absolute adoration. “Anytime, cowboy.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x reader smut

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supernova41st · 1 year ago

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Fallen angel!Adam x Moth healer!Reader

Chapter 2: Consolation

(Ch.1) (Ch.2)

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares, more angst, mentions of genitalia, a bit of body dysmorphia

A/n: Tysm for the support on the first fic <33 again I’m new to this writing stuff so pls send feedback if you have any 🫶🏽 Also for this fic I added a bit more focus on Adam as a character because i absolutely HATED how 2 demential they made him in the show 😭

Adam’s dream pov:

Im back..

Back at the garden.

Lillith ran away a few days ago because of what I proposed to her.

When I found her she was with someone else.. the fucking clown

Why him?

Why not me?

What’s wrong with me-?!

3rd pov:

While Adam’s nightmare, about the fateful day he saw Lilith with Lucifer, he hears distant humming in the background. Beautiful humming, mixed with the sound of running water too.

He begins to open his eyes, however it was a challenge for him to do so, because of the hardened crust that formed due to his unwiped tears from last night. He turns his head towards the humming, causing him to groan.

You then stop humming, hearing his groans from afar. “Oh! You’re awake” you say in a happy tone, grabbing a bowl and filling it up with water, along with a cloth. You then walk towards him, sitting on an armchair that was next to the couch that he had been resting on.

Adam tries to get a better look at you by raising his head a bit towards you, but is barely able to do so because of the crust around his eyes blurring his vision. “Are you.. Am I..?” He asks in a low voice, interrupted by a cough.

That’s when it hit you, he’s a new soul. Your warm smile then fades into a worried frown. “Sigh, I’m sorry. But, you’ve passed, you’re in hell now.” You then grab the wash cloth, dipping it in the cold water and placing it on his head. “Just relax, please”

Adam sighs after them, then sitting up on the couch while holding the cloth against his head. “Whyd you take me?” He asks. “You want some dick or something..”

Your eyes slightly widen, out of all the assumptions he could’ve made you didn’t expect it to be that. “What? No I helped you because you looked like you needed help, and you didn’t seem to want to aggressively assault me. That can be difficult to find down here.”

He snarls at you, then standing up from the chair weakly. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to take a wicked hot piss right now” He yawns stretching.

“Down the hall to the left” You say pointing to the hallway. “I can show you if you’d like” You suggest standing from your chair.

“Fuck you, you think I can’t find the shit room by myself?” He snaps, getting defensive because of his fever.

“It’s possible” you admit, as well as intending to messing with him. “But go ahead, I’ll make you something to eat while you’re at it, you must be starving.”

As he stomps to the bathroom he mutters insults under his breath. “Hippie bitch, I can go piss by myself, you wanna hold my dick up for me too motherfucking whore-?”

As he enters the bathroom. He gasps quietly, noticing that big parts of his appearance have changed. He now has big horns, that look exactly like the ones that were on his extermination mask, except one was missing its pointy part entirely. His skin now a reddish grey, as well as his hair but much darker. He spreads his wings a bit, expecting to see his normally feathery wings, but they’ve now turned into dragon like wings.

He sneers at the sight of it, he’s now turned into the thing that he’s hated most. A sinner. An embodiment of the wicked and cruelest parts of humanity.

“Fuck..”

Y/n’s pov:

I continue to make the stranger something to eat, I don’t have much since I haven’t gotten groceries yet, so I’m just serving him some left overs. It always hurts seeing someone get hurt from the extermination, especially when I know I can do much, most people who I want to help after an extermination simply lash out on me, worst than what the stranger had just done now. So I’m getting a little hope.

Sure he’s being quite rude right now, but who wouldn’t be after what he’s been through. He’s probably a new soul, who just fell into an extermination. I can only imagine the relief he’s gonna feel when he finds out hell isn’t always like how he first saw it.

I hear the toilet flush, along with the door opening indicating that he finished his little trip. He goes to sit at the small dinner table next to the kitchen, and I notice that his hands are dry, too dry.

“You’re not gonna wash your hands?” I ask kinda weirded out.

“Umm, and why would I need to wash my hands? My dick is clean enough.” I roll my eyes at his response. “Anyways what’s your name babe?” He asks.

I then become surprised on how much pride he has, to call a stranger who had showed them great kindness and belittle them with such a name “Im sorry, but I am not your ‘babe’” I respond in air quotes. “Secondly my name is y/n, so there is no need for these immature nicknames.”

Adam takes notice of the name, “y/n? Oof, I dated a y/n before. She was so bitchy, maybe all y/ns are” he says in a cocky voice.

“Huh, well I’d love to hear about her sometime I guess.” I then place the plate of pasta to him. “It’s not much but it’s all I have, apologies” I say sitting on the dinner table with him. He then starts to absolutely devour it as if he hadn’t eaten for a month.

I laugh in slight amusement. “what happened? Did you die of hunger or something?” I ask jokingly, unaware of what my gesture of humor would to do him.

He pauses, looking down at the plate of food, his face seems saddened but not wanting to show it. I immediately begin to regret asking such a question.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it” I say in a worried tone. “I was born here so I wouldn’t know how bad it would feel, to die then enter a place like this. Please, forgive me.” I then place my hand on top of his free one, attempting to comfort him in a way. “So, what’s your name? I’ve been wondering what it is since I brought you here.” I ask trying to distract him from his sadness.

“My name? shit uhh,,, itss Adam.” He seemed a bit scared to ask me, not sure why. Adam seems like a pretty normal name for someone like him.

“It must’ve been scary huh? Falling into an extermination like that, angels come here every once a year to kill us,, it’s horrible.” I explain. “It’s okay, this place isn’t all bad, every now and then you find some nice people. Although they are hard to find.”

Adam stares as I explain a few aspects of hell, I’m glad he’s open to trying to find out how things work around here instead of immediately going on a killing spree like some sinners.

I really do wish that he’ll open up to me soon, and that I can open up to him. I’m not sure where this will go, I just hope that it’ll go well enough.

#divider by fairytopea #hazbin hotel #viziepop #x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #adam hazbin x reader #fanfic #lol #hazbin hotel x reader

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password-door-lock · 10 months ago

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As soon as Saeran gets his hands on his new driver’s license, he makes the drive into the city to pick you up from work.

A lot has changed since Saeran was first liberated from Mint Eye three years ago. After leaving the hospital, he was given a simple new identity, a passport inscribed with a name that did not belong to him. He could use it for doctors’ appointments and other necessary paperwork, but it did not permit him to operate a motor vehicle. For those first two years, it was clear that Saeyoung didn’t trust his brother in a car. He didn’t say those words exactly, but the sentiment was made obvious by his refusal to furnish Saeran with a driver’s license of any kind.

A year ago, however, Saeyoung started to get more comfortable with the idea of Saeran driving, and he began to suggest that Saeran take the wheel for short trips between venues where law enforcement was not likely to be present. As Saeran’s natural red hair began to grow back in, Saeyoung began to grow more confident in the universal utility of his own falsified driver’s license, should the need arise for the twin behind the wheel to provide identification. He also came to understand that Saeran wasn’t likely to get pulled over, though he still had nerves about unsupervised trips.

Then, everything changed. A few months after Saeran started driving again, somebody at C&R discovered a flash drive containing a file marked with Saeyoung’s name. Within a week, the Prime Minister was arrested for holding vast sums of money in offshore accounts. Within a month, such items as high treason, conspiracy, and even attempted murder were added to the list of charges. By the time the bastard was finally brought to justice, he was being held accountable for almost all of his crimes.

This, at least, was what you reported from your conversations with top personnel at C&R— neither Saeran nor Saeyoung had any interest in opening the file knowing where it came from. Who it came from, in particular, but Saeran tries not to think about that. He’s come a long way, but his journey to healing and self-forgiveness is far from over. It’s better not to dwell on the things for which he still blames himself, especially not on happy occasions such as this one.

So now, Saeran has a brand new ID, and he can’t wait to show it to you. He drives Saeyoung’s least garish car— which is still painted an annoyingly bright color, but jewel-toned purple is a lot better than tomato red, lemon yellow, or neon fucking green— to your workplace and parks it outside. Saeran has practically memorized your schedule by now, so he knows he got here at the perfect time. Not only do you write your hours on the calendar hanging on the wall beside the spice cupboard in your kitchen, but you always make sure to call Saeran right away when you get done.

Like clockwork, his phone rings as soon as he shifts the car into park. “Hey,” he greets you. He’s not really one for gushy pet names, but you know this about Saeran already. “Don’t buy a train ticket.”

“Why not?” You ask, sounding concerned. “Did something happen? Is there—”

“Nothing like that,” Saeran cuts you off, not wanting you to worry. He may not be the most vibrant person in the world, but that doesn’t mean he’s cold or heartless. “I’m outside.”

He watches as you step out of your place of business. You look around, confused. “Where? I’m at the east side of the building, by the back entrance— are you out front? It might take me a minute to get over there.”

Saeran smirks, prepared to drop his bombshell. He’s looking forward to your passionate response. “I’m in the purple car.”

“The one with the after-market tail lights and the orange racing stripes?”

Unfortunately, yes. “Mhm.” Already, Saeran is thinking about the possibility of getting his own car— he’ll be sure to pick a black one. Maybe grey, if he’s hard-pressed. Even a champagne-colored car would be better than this.

“I only see one of you.” You rush over nevertheless, lugging your heavy work bag. Your phrasing is a bit awkward, but Saeran knows what you mean. You've never seen him behind the wheel before without Saeyoung also in the car. “Is Saeyoung hiding in the backseat? This isn’t some kind of prank is it, love?”

Saeran’s lips twitch the way they always do when you call him love. Pet names and terms of endearment tend to feel clunky in his own mouth, even after all this time, but he doesn’t hate them when they come from you. “No. I’m waiting for you on my own.”

You slide into the passenger seat and hang up the phone. “You’re telling me you voluntarily took the car with the after-market tail lights and the orange racing stripes?”

Saeran wrinkles his nose. He likes when you’re silly, but he doesn’t want to hold you in suspense about his good news any longer. “I’m telling you I got this in the mail today.” He grabs his driver’s license and holds it out to you.

Your eyes widen as you read the text on the card. “Saeran… Choi,” you recite, “This is… this is your real name! Does that mean—”

“The government knows about us now,” Saeran confirms. He and Saeyoung are finally free to exist out of hiding, living their own lives with their real names.

“Oh no, poor Saeyoung,” you contradict your utterance with a grin, handing the card back to Saeran, “He’s gonna have to start paying taxes now. So sad.”

Saeran snorts. “C&R could still help him evade them.” He’s grown comfortable with your sense of humor after spending so much time with you. It’s nice to play back and forth now that he has a better understanding of the world he lives in.

“Well, see, now, that would just be tax evasion,” you laugh, easily and languidly, “Which is highly frowned upon, you know? Anyway, congratulations on your license. Now you can go anywhere you want, any time you want… with anyone you want.”

“And I could get my own car,” Saeran muses. That’s going to be his next order of business, now that he’s told you the good news.

“A black one, right?” You already guessed what he’d want without him having to tell you. “If you want, we can keep it at my building— we’ve got a garage. You know, just so it’s in the same place as your toothbrush and your library books and your significant other.”

Saeran laughs at that, too. He knows you could be more subtle if you tried— you’re making this type of joke because you’d be perfectly content whether he accepted the offer or not. You've never pressured him to do anything before, and you're clearly not about to start now. “Now that I can prove I exist, you could add me to your lease.” That’s another thing he’s been thinking about a lot. He sleeps at your place most nights anyway, so it wouldn’t be very much of a change.

“Well, that’s just common sense.” You lean over to kiss him on the cheek before pulling away. “Anyway, I’m starving— should we go get some dinner? But you’ve gotta drive, since I'm already buckled in." You make a big show of buckling your seatbelt.

Saeran rolls his eyes at your playful comment. He’s never felt more free.

#thinking a lot about good days for SE Saeran #And what a happier healthier life might look like for him a few years after the end of secret 2 #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #choi saeran #saeran choi #fanfiction

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beenpxshedaside · 26 days ago

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The Devil You Know - Chapter 1

Summary: “These people are not your friends. You think you know them, but I promise you, you don’t. New World, new rules. Forget what you know.”

Thrown through to a new unvierse, Bim Trimmer is trapped. Chase refuses to go home without him, they still need to bring Silver back from non-existence, and apparently this world is beholden to a bunch of self-serving assholes that call themselves Gods. It doesn’t help that many people here look like someone from home, despite being almost nothing like them.

A/N: It's taken a while but it's finally here. Just for reference the Writer is the omniscient narrator OC who almost exclusively exists to document the events of the story. They may often comment on the chapters through their narrative or in a 'writers note'. - Daniel Wickes is a natewantstobattle ego OC inspired by the music video for The Wrecked and the Worried.

I'll be posting this on AO3 tomorrow. If you want to be added to the tag list, like or reblog -> this post <-

Tag list: @m00nrize @momentochao

[First] | Next>>

Writer's note - Don't let him die! Please Gods, don't let him die!

---

Marvin’s fingers nervously twist at the bottom of his chin-length hair as he stands in the doorway. He needs to re-dye it again soon; his roots have been coming in for a while now. Honestly he kind of likes it, the soft brown roots descending to the faded teal that used to be forest green; but as a Magician-for-hire there’s certain expectations for his appearance, especially from the higher-paying clients.

Jackie’s sat on the stairs. His short hair is still the same vibrant electric green it’s been for the last few years; sticking out at all angles, easy to maintain, and suitable for pretty much any occasion.

Both of them are staring at the front door as firm insistent knocking comes from the other side for the third time is two minutes.

“Are you expecting anything?” Marvin asks.

“Not ‘til Thursday.” Jackie only ordered the cards for his collection this morning and as a man of little means, same-day delivery is somewhat out of his price range. “Not a client?”

“Last one left twenty minutes ago.”

So who could it be?

It can’t be a salesmen or anyone trying to promote anything. The house is brimming with countless wards and sigils to defend those within its four walls from ill intent, malicious magick, and door-to-door solicitation.

The knocking comes again.

“Y’know,” Jackie muses as he pushes himself to his feet, “one of us is gonna have to answer it eventually.”

He hops down the few steps and strides towards the door while Marvin crosses his arms, his lips becoming a firm line.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You always say that.” Jackie chuckles.

True. But this feels different.

It’s not a ‘I can name fifty ways this terrible idea will blow up in our faces’ feeling. It’s deeper than that. Ominous and foreboding – an unshakeable dread that he’s in inescapable danger. Something that Marvin’s only ever felt once before.

He’d been on a date with this guy he really liked. They were at the cinema waiting for snacks when an overwhelming feeling of imminent danger washed over him. Within seconds some thing from another dimension had suppressed his magic, possessed him, held him hostage for six months, and nearly killed him.

It may have actually killed his date...

So I can’t really blame Marvin for just ignoring it.

Jackie opens the door to reveal a stranger, hand raised ready to knock again. Honestly he looks a mess – tattered dark jeans, a wrinkled speckled-grey t-shirt, and a worn grey peak cap sporting a red skull wearing blue glasses on top of scruffy mid-length brown hair. He looks haunted, dishevelled; like he’s not had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.

Stood behind him is someone they know. Daniel Wickes; annoyingly tall, open blue shirt over a white tee, ripped black jeans, black boots, and silver pendant on a black cord around his neck. He looks worried, though that’s nothing new.

Daniel’s carrying another stranger in his arms. One arm hooked under his knees, while the other is supporting the guy’s back. He’s dressed more formally than the other two; a white button-up with black slacks. He’s unconscious and honestly looks like shit, his dark hair and pale face drenched in sweat.

“I need your help,” Daniel says desperately.

“Nope.” Marvin mutters turning to leave through his doorway.

Jackie rolls his eyes. So dramatic, but given the last few times Dan showed up on their doorstep, he doesn’t trust him much either.

“You shouldn’t be here, Dan.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had literally any other option.”

“See, I want to believe you,” Jackie shrugs, “but I just don’t, sooo…” he starts to close the door.

“Chase!”

The door stops and grey-hat guy, ‘Chase’, cries out. Jackie opens the door slightly to see he’s stepped forward, his foot jammed against the doorframe having stopped the door. One hand is against the doorframe too, while his other is braced against the door, ready to push back if Jackie should try to close it again.

Jackie stares at the foot in surprise before looking up, “Move the foot.”

“He’s not waking up!” Chase pleads.

“And you can find healers over on Kirk Road.” Reaching forward, he presses a hand firmly against Chase’s sternum his eyes hardening. Jackie’s patience is starting to run thin.

He spreads his fingers wide while green sparks of electricity crackle to life around around them. Chase doesn’t flinch; doesn’t even blink. Jumping, sparking, and flitting around his wrist, the sparks slowly get larger, growing stronger but stopping short of entering Chase’s chest. For now.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Agapass!” Dan blurts.

Jackie freezes, the sparks dissipating instantly.

“...what?”

“We found him in Agapass”

Jackie turns to shout but Marvin’s already next to him. He tears the door wide, pinning Daniel with a glare that burns right through him.

“What in the fuck were you doing there?” Marvin demands.

“Looking for him.” Dan nods to his arms.

There it is again. That sickening twist telling Marvin to leave this be.

“How long was he even there?”

Dan shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

Shit.

If this man really was in Agapass, time is a luxury they don’t have, but Magicians don’t take an oath of care like doctors do. There’s nothing that says Marvin has to help this stranger. He could close the door and turn his back and he’s done nothing wrong. His hands would technically be clean…

...Shit.

Marvin snaps his fingers. With a loud BANG the door under the stairs slams open.

“Bring him to the cellar.”

Next>>

#Bim Trimmer #Marvin the Magnificent #Jackie Boy Man #Chase Brody #natewantstobattle oc #natewantstobattle ego #Egos AU #The Devil You Know #TDYK #Alternate Universe #NAYKT

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countrymusiclover · 1 year ago

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19 - The X Gene

Part 20

Battle of Heart and Mind

Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway

Astraea and I had woken up earlier than the boys in our small cabin house. I knew that there was only one person who could put my nerves at ease. I loved my son but I needed to know was it even possible for him to have powers or not. “Mom, are you sure he will hear me at this distance?”

“You don’t know Charles as well as I do. He’s very powerful.” I answered her where we sat down on the back porch swing.

She tilted her head to the side. “Like you and daddy are?”

“Yes, like me and your father. Now remember what I told you, just focus your mind on him and Charles will find us.” Holding my hands out for her she placed her hands in mine closing her eyes and I did the same. We waited a few seconds before I felt his voice inside my head.

The moment I opened my eyes he was rolling towards us in his wheelchair that Hank had put in a joystick controlling to make it easier to move the chair for him. “Addi, Astraea, it’s good to see you.”

“Hi Charles, I was hoping you could help me understand something.” I turned while holding my daughter’s hand while we were appearing in an astral projection form through my daughter’s mind space.

He gave me a concerned look. “What is on your mind, Addi?”

“I was hoping you could give me answers on whether or not Ryder will ever show a mutation like any of us have. I mean I will love my boy regardless. But I just want to know if he will ever show any mutation.” Slumping my shoulders I huffed in defeat praying he would have something.

The professor clicked his tongue. “I am not certain I can find an answer to that type of concern. Mutation is something we are slowly finding out is coming from the male parent.”

“But what about when both parents are mutants? What do you think could happen in that case, Charles?” I blurt out the question he wasn’t really answered yet.

The man named Professor X blankly stared at me. “Addi, I'm sorry to say I have no answer for that.”

“It's alright, Charles. I know if you had anything you would provide it.” He didn’t owe me an apolgy.

“That is a tough question. But from a scientific perspective I could have Hank look at his DNA and see if he can come up with something more for you.”

“Can you get the DNA from me, Uncle Charles?” Astraea asked him.

The telepath tapped the side of his head. “Unfortunately not in the mind space, dear. He would need your brother to physically be here. And I must point out his male DNA has a tiny difference to yours so only Ryder can produce what we would need.”

“I’ll go tell him we are visiting you.” She quickly took my hand and our hands turned red giving me a source of her power so she could leave us alone to talk.

I attempted to stop her but she already vanished from our mind space view. “Astraea wait-“

“Calm your worries, Addi. Her suggesting it will be harmless.” Charles raised a hand, feeling my mind beginning to race in concern.

Slumping my shoulders tucked hair behind my ear. “Yes I know I shouldn't worry. But you’ve seen how powerful her mind is. She can do damage when she doesn’t really mean to.”

“Yes she can indeed. She has the most powerful mind I have ever seen, especially before I ever saw Jean Greys when she started attending here.” Charles ran a hand over his chin thinking deep in thought before his hand tangled in his brown hair and finally dropped to the armrest of the wheelchair.

I nodded my head in understanding, mumbling under my breath allowing my mind to go back to the first night we saw her powers for ourselves. “You put me and Erik together who are already powerful and she is the result of it.”

Laying in my bed with Erik I heard our bedroom door creak open at the same time as I heard someone speak in my head knowing it was Charles. “Addi, there's something you need to see.” I got out of bed slowly doing my best to not wake Erik since it was rare he got a full night's sleep. Throwing on one of my sweatshirts I followed the back of his wheelchair down the hallway until we reached my daughter's room. Ryder had his own room a few doors down from hers.

“Professors?” One door creaked open showing a girl named Carianne.

Charles waves his hand shoeing her to bed before she woke anyone else in the hallway up. “Carianne, back to bed.”

“What's wrong, Charles?” I questioned my friend with him opening the door and I held it open with his chair rolling into her bedroom. My gaze shifted around the dimly lit room. The walls appeared to be melting and I could see my daughter shifting around in her covers. I answered my previous question to him. “I think I can see why.”

Charles grunted using his upper strength to get out of his chair and sit down on the edge of the bed. “Astraea, it’s me. Just calm your mind.”

“Ah! Uncle Charles - mom, I had a nightmare.” She suddenly woke up trying to catch her breath and moved to sit upright on the pillows behind her head.

I maneuvered to the other side of the bed sitting down by her side. I didn’t enjoy seeing her like this. I knew I had my own demons inside of my mind after everything that has happened since the night we met Xavier. Yet the concept of nightmares for a young telepath like her could only be ten times worse than I could even fathom. “It was just a dream, honey. I’ll be here until you go to sleep.”

“No! No, it wasn’t a dream. I saw - I saw you were pregnant and then you lost the baby.” Astraea snapped back at me.

I tried to calm her down again, noticing that the glass in the windows was beginning to crack clearly by whatever she was feeling inside of her mind space. “Astraea-”

“Mom, you won't understand. You don't know what it's like to be afraid to shut your eyes!” She gripped the covers in her hands, releasing some tears.

“You’re mother may not know the feeling but I do. It wasn't so long ago that I was plagued by voices, myself. All their suffering. All their pain. Their secrets.” Charles focused his attention on my daughter and her eyes became brighter by the words he said.

Astraeq wiped away some tears. “But what if my nightmare comes true?”

“Lie back, dear.” Charles instructed her and he lifted her blankets back over her body. “Don't worry your head about it. If it comes to pass we will face it together, you and I.”

She grasped his hand in her smaller one. “How did you face what you fears?”

“Everyone fears that which they do not understand. You will learn to control your powers. And when you do... you'll have nothing to fear…my little darling.” Charles brushed hair out of her face kissing her forehead too.

She snuggled under her covers whispering something that I wasn’t expecting. “Thank you, Charles….you're a good dad.”

Charles and I slowly walked out of the room and I shut the door behind me gently to not wake her up again. We walked down the hallway together in silence until we ended up outside his bedroom door. “Charles, wait. I'm sorry if that was awkward for you when she…uh called you dad.” He paused, pushing his bedroom door open glancing over his shoulder at me.

“No apology is necessary, Addi.” He reached up, looping my right hand with his. His blue eyes poured up into mine. “I just want to help these kids learn to control their powers, especially your children.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand in mine. It was moments like this that caught me off guard with me remembering how nice he was to me and everyone else around us. I cared for Erik but I could see Charles as being a good father to a child someday. “You have always been a really great person in my life, Charles.”

“I feel the same about you, Addison and I will always be here to support you.” He told me before he rolled inside of his bedroom. “Goodnight Addi.”

“Goodnight Charles.” I waved bye to him walking back to my bedroom and crawling back into bed with Erik for the night. Regardless of my last name being changed to Lehnsherr it would always be me, Erik and Charles raising Astraea and Ryder.

Charles and I had kept walking through the school just enjoying the silence between one another. He paused his chair by the long staircase staring up at me. “Hank should be able to find the answers you seek. Until then you shouldn't put too much worry in that head of yours.”

“I appreciate your help, Charles. I really do.” I smiled at the telepath before we heard someone appear beside us turning our attention to the person behind me. “Astraea, you're back. Is something wrong?”

My daughter nervously ran a hand through her messy hair. “Mom, I can't find my brother.”

“Ryder, what’s wrong with your brother?” Charles questioned with a raised brow to her.

She gulped nervously. “I went looking for him around the house but I couldn't find him. I couldn't find him in the back yard either and dad can't help me since he's still at work.”

“I'll come right away. We'll see you later, Charles.” Whipping my head around to my telepath friend.

He nodded in understanding. “Good luck in finding Ryder.”

“Let’s go find your brother and see what is going on.” My daughter looped her hand through mine and we disappeared back to our house. Unknown to us Erik was already driving home in a panic after what he had done at work that day.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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samstree · 2 years ago

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there is a place where I don’t feel alone

In which Jaskier is Geralt's human-shaped furnace. (General, 4k ☆ also on AO3)

Fire and ice, Jaskier muses. It’s too cliché for his poetry, but there are no better analogies when they press against each other under the covers, a cold witcher warmed by a human bard.

Jaskier is content being Geralt’s human-shaped furnace. He learned a long time ago that witchers’ fast metabolism means they are prone to running cold. He also learned, at the same time, of Geralt’s tendency of ignoring his body’s demands. He’s happy that, after all the years of being together, his witcher is comfortable asking for help, though never with words. It’s in the way Geralt brushes their hands together when his fingers are numb, or subtly reaches out for a cuddle when the night chill settles in.

The potions make it worse. When a hunt ends and the black veins recede from Geralt’s eyes, the adrenaline drop often leaves him shivering. Warmth helps, so Jaskier prepares a bath and hot tea if they are lucky enough to stay at an inn. If all they have is a camp under the sky, he can only hold Geralt close and rub his arms and back, hoping his body provides enough heat for his witcher.

Geralt gets clingy when it happens, though he’d never admit it. Hiding in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, all he can do is cling. The world overwhelms his senses, the coldness harsh on his skin, and he never lets go first.

Jaskier cannot deny him in times like these, doesn’t want to deny him. He takes Geralt in his arms every time, blowing warm air on his cold hands, murmuring soft, reassuring words. He stays as long as needed, and then he stays even longer.

He needs to make the world less harsh for his witcher, even just a little bit.

And Jaskier’s tendency to run hot is neither here nor there. It’s only a slight inconvenience, one that can be overcome easily. He doesn’t mind waking up at night from being too warm, only to find Geralt has added a blanket to their bed. It only requires some adjusting, keeping the extra blanket on Geralt’s side.

He also doesn’t mind Geralt’s cuddling habits. During the mild seasons, he will even tell Geralt to sleep on the other side of the bed, but the distance between them always closes a few hours later. Jaskier is more endeared than bothered, really, and he can simply extract himself and fall back asleep soon after.

It’s an easy enough system. They are different people, polar opposites, as many might say. It takes a lot of practice to fit their lives together, but a few decades are more than enough time.

It’s easy, to be together, to let fire and ice coexist.

It gets less easy as time catches up to Jaskier.

His hair goes grey, and the laugh lines around his eyes deepen. His body starts fighting him from within. It begins with the rushes of hotness at night. He would wake up at night from nothing, with a dry throat and sweat soaked through his back. The healer says it’s common for his age, and the hot flashes will only get worse before it gets better. It becomes increasingly difficult to sleep in the same bed as another person, especially when that person is prone to sprawling on top of him like an oversized cuddle bear.

Insomnia follows naturally, with his sleep disrupted often. The worry makes it worse. Jaskier thought he was used to sending Geralt away on hunts for days and nights on end, but it’s harder to keep check of the anxiety when his mind is tired and irritated. He’d lie awake on their bed and imagine all the ways a simple hunt could go wrong. Even when he manages to sleep, it’s restless and full of nightmares of blood and vacant golden eyes.

His body is getting old, and with it, his heart.

Still, Geralt comes back to him. He always does. The first light of dawn brings his witcher back with morning dew glistening in silver hair, his hands reaching out for touch. Jaskier ignores the hot lava-like state of his upper body as Geralt rests gently on his chest, grounded by the feeling of skin against skin, by the rhythm of his breathing.

Jaskier’s heart feels too tender in his chest, too weathered for a human bard who’s spent most of his life on the road. He wonders how long he can keep doing this.

But then, a shiver runs down Geralt’s body, and Jaskier forgets all about his self-pity.

The path leads them to a mountain, of all places.

The air feels thinner, adding to the heaviness on Jaskier’s breastbone. They find an inn, where word of a mysterious beast up in the mountain finds Geralt while he drinks. The creature sounds more mythical than real. Geralt hesitates to take the contract at first, but is unable to say no in the end. He’s never been able to, anyway.

Jaskier’s stomach churns with the sense of déjà vu. He throws himself into the performance as Geralt prepares for the hunt. The audience is captivated soon, and before he knows it, he has been encouraged by the crowd into a rendition of Her Sweet Kiss. He’s nearly staggering as the song fades, breath shuddering with worry and past heartache.

Geralt is all packed up and waiting by the door when Jaskier finishes his set. He follows his witcher to the street, and is surprised by the tight hug that envelopes him. Jaskier is flushed hot from performing, his cheeks red and heart racing, but Geralt’s armors are cold in the mountain wind. He returns the hug, lingering longer than usual.

Geralt sees through him, worry mirrored in those golden eyes. Jaskier has felt like an open book around him for years, every shift in his mood caught carefully, but his witcher stays patient. He simply kisses Jaskier on the cheek, looking like he wants to say something. Nothing comes out in the end, and Geralt wordlessly turns away.

And Jaskier waits.

It’s just an ordinary contract, he tells himself, but somewhere in the back of his mind, panic surges out of control. It’s the memory of the last time they were in a place like this, with the wind in his hair and bitterness on his tongue. The fire burns bright in the room, but his heart is away on that mountain with his love.

Geralt returns when the moon is high, eyes still black from the potions and face deathly pale. A deep gash runs down his shoulder, bleeding sluggishly.

“Basilisks,” he murmurs, “two of them. Caught me off guard.”

With that, Geralt’s knees buckle and he collapses right into Jaskier’s arms.

The blood stains both of their clothes with crimson red. Jaskier holds up most of Geralt’s weight and helps him sit down. The process of cleaning, bathing, and bandaging his witcher is a familiar one, his muscle memory working on its own, but Jaskier finds a tremor in his hands. He tries and fails to hold himself steady, and swallows the lump of fear in his throat.

“Hey,” he coaxes Geralt to sit on their bed. “Here, just sit. It’s alright. I’m almost done.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt looks faint, head dropping to Jaskier’s shoulder even before the last bit of the bandage is tied up. A pained groan rumbles out of his chest. “Cold…”

“Shh, don’t worry. Let’s warm you up. I’m here, dearest. I’m right here.”

Jaskier tucks in the bandage neatly before reaching for the blankets on the bed. He lowers Geralt onto the pillow before checking on the fireplace, and adds a few pieces of wood, keeping it burning brighter than is needed for the current weather. With a tired sigh, he finally slips between the sheets, and tucks the blankets around Geralt.

Eyes closed, Geralt’s brow knits together painfully, his muscles trembling. He’s barely awake when Jaskier settles around him, placing Geralt’s hands on the small of his back, where the cold fingers can regain some blood flow. It’s not a comfortable position. With Geralt’s injured shoulder, Jaskier has to lie on his back and support most of the witcher’s weight. He’s trapped like this, the heat gathering under the blanket.

He’s burning, almost, with a whole person sprawled on top of him. Sweat gathers on his skin, clammy and uncomfortable against the shirt.

Geralt drifts off quickly enough, catching some much-needed rest. His breaths come out in gentle puffs against Jaskier’s neck, gradually evening out.

“Stay asleep, love, please,” Jaskier mutters with relief, all the while making the slightest attempt at extracting himself, but immediately, the barest movement makes Geralt jerk in sleep. A whimper escapes his throat, too small and sad for Jaskier’s heart to handle. The arms around his waist tighten almost childishly. Jaskier huffs at the ridiculous sight of the two of them, tangled together like one. “Alright. Hush. I won’t leave, then.”

It must be the bad dreams, caused by the pain and the oversensitivity. Geralt is at his most vulnerable when his mind is muddled, and Jaskier cannot bring himself to deny any comfort he can provide.

“There.” He kisses Geralt’s forehead, accepting his fate. Being wrapped up in a cocoon of heat is a small thing to endure when his witcher is hurt.

He threads his fingers through long silver hair, and counts the moments in the quietness of the night.

Jaskier doesn’t notice falling asleep, but the familiar press of Geralt’s weight lulls him into a fitful rest nonetheless.

Blood stains his dreams, as does the overpowering sense of helplessness. It’s like a roaring flame, threatening to consume, or a ring of fire closing in, squeezing the air out of his lungs. A hot flash comes out of nowhere, radiating from the center of his back, burning every nerve from within.

Distantly, he can hear sounds of distress from his own throat. Sweat soaks through his back, his hair, but there is nowhere to run.

Suddenly, the heat disappears, all restraints gone. Jaskier drifts in and out of sleep, breathing out deeply. He shuffles, pushing away the covers on his upper body, and feels cool air hit his skin. With that, another dream pulls him under easily.

When Jaskier blinks awake after what feels like hours, his head is slow and groggy. His arms are empty and the blankets are nowhere near him. A cool breeze washes over his body like a gentle caress.

He gasps at the absence of Geralt. All sleep is chased out by a surge of panic. Jaskier reaches out for his witcher, ready to call for his name.

“Easy.” A hoarse voice rumbles above him. “I’m right here.”

Jaskier looks up to find Geralt sitting against the headboard, the pillow cushioned behind his back.

“Oh.” Jaskier heaves out a sigh, pressing his forehead against Geralt’s thigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

Another gust of wind washes over his back, loosening his muscles, and Jaskier realizes the source of it. The window next to their bed is wide open, letting in breaths of fresh air. The moon is hanging low. Soon the morning light will shimmer by the horizon. The fireplace is burning to an ember, damped by a mound of ash.

Geralt combs through the hair at Jaskier’s nape, so gently it makes Jaskier’s bones hum. His hand is still colder than Jaskier would like, so he takes it, pressing a small kiss in his palm.

“Are you alright? How do you feel now?” Jaskier blinks, observing his witcher in the low light of the bedside candle. “Feeling cold? Your hands are cold. Why did you open the window? And the fire, do you want me to light it again?”

Geralt is still too pale, the effect of the blood loss, but his spirit seems high. A half-smile warms his golden eyes when he meets Jaskier’s gaze.

“Leave the fire, Jask. That’s silly. You were overheating. Did you not notice?” he says. “You shouldn’t have kept the room so warm.”

Jaskier sits up on the bed so they are shoulder to shoulder. It is nice now, the temperature. He unties his shirt a little bit more to cool off.

“I didn’t want you to be cold.”

“I can cope.”

Jaskier pouts. “I don’t want you to cope.”

“And I don’t want you to have a heatstroke.” A frown knits between Geralt’s eyes. “You were sweating all over. Was it another hot flash?”

Jaskier looks down, absently tugging at the blanket so it covers more of Geralt’s torso.

“I’m fine,” he insists stubbornly. “It’s only one of those nights. It happens, these days. I should be used to it.”

“Hmm.”

The cicadas hum outside the window, signaling the upcoming hot days. Geralt’s eyes place a gentle weight, patient and not demanding.

“It’s just…” Jaskier cuts himself off before starting again, trying to push down the fear in his stomach. “You were in a bad way when you came back. It caught me off guard, is all, and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Geralt sags a little, catching Jaskier’s hand and threading their fingers together. “I really scared you this time, didn’t I?”

Jaskier doesn’t think he needs to answer. Nothing can be hidden from his face, not from Geralt, who knows every secret in his soul.

“Hey, come here.” Geralt’s voice softens to a whisper with understanding. He squeezes Jaskier’s hand, tugging him close so his head rests on the witcher’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“It was only a hunt. I’ve had much worse.”

Something within Jaskier shudders. “Yes, I’m well aware of the occupational hazard for witchers. That’s the problem. I don’t know how I dealt with it all this time. The terror of it all…” He huffs, self-deprecatingly. “It must be the age. I’m getting old. Too old for the foolish bravado of youth. I feel like my heart is getting weaker these days. Like it could break more easily, somehow.”

A kiss lands on top of Jaskier’s head.

“You are still brave. Foolishly so,” Geralt says, reverently, proudly.

“Never wanted to be brave. Just useful, so I can take care of you.”

Jaskier turns around, so blue meets gold. Despite the lines at his temple, despite the grey hair, he knows his eyes are still the same. He still looks at Geralt the same way as all those years ago, when he was young and stupidly idealistic. They are full of love for the man in front of him. Always full of love for Geralt.

And Geralt is looking at him the same way.

“You don’t have to be useful. Not if it means you need to push yourself too hard.” A hint of guilt tugs at his lips. “I don’t want to break your heart. Never did.”

“Well, that’s the occupational hazard of a poet,” Jaskier teases, wanting to erase the guilt. It has no place between them. “I don’t blame your trade, love. It is who you are. The path, the monsters, the way you scare the hell out of me every other day. I’ve accepted it. Old age be damned. I promised to follow you until the end of my days, and I tend to keep my promises.”

“Jask, I…”

Geralt closes his mouth, and they fall into silence, though it’s a poignant one.

“It’s alright.” Jaskier wants to steer them away from the heaviness of it all. “You should try to rest more. Meditate, perhaps. That wound is not going to heal fast if you don’t—”

“Fuck it, I need to tell you,” Geralt blurs out. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but now… Jaskier, you deserve to know.”

The interruption makes Jaskier blink. Confused, he sits up straighter. “What is it?”

Geralt’s entire posture changes, and suddenly he looks a lot more serious, which is all the more puzzling. He brings Jaskier’s hand to his chest, pulling him closer. All the tiredness from the hunt is gone, replaced by a nameless excitement.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, Geralt?”

“Don’t worry. It’s good news. At least, it’s good in my head. I think you’ll like it.” When Geralt smiles, a quiet joy lights up his face. It’s Jaskier’s favorite smile of his. It means Geralt is deeply, unreservedly happy, the kind that makes him frightened, even. Like someone could break in and take this happiness from him any moment, so he tries to not show it. “Do you remember that cottage we passed by last summer? The one we saw on the coast in Cidaris?”

The mention of the coastal trip brings back fond memories, making Jaskier’s heart warm.

“Of course. The one on the cliff, with the pretty windows. The old couple lived there for decades,” he says, still not sure where this is going. “What about it?”

Despite the paleness and the dark circles under his eyes, Geralt’s cheek grow pink with a blush.

“Well,” he simply says, “I Bought it.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“Technically, Yen bought it for us.” Geralt tilts his head cheekily. “The couple told me they were selling right before we left, so I wrote to Yen. She went to Cidaris and did it, just like that. It’s ours. It’s going to be our house. We can spend as much time there as we want. Every year, every season, if we wish to. If we get restless, the world is still out there, but we’ll have a home to return to. A place to settle down.”

The sound of the world fades away for a moment, replaced by blood rushing into Jaskier’s ears. He notices his mouth is now hanging open, but nothing is coming out. His heart grows like it's too big for his chest.

A house.

Their house. Their home.

“I—”

Jaskier, to his horror, realizes he has been rendered speechless, all the words of a bard stolen by a witcher. He stares at his witcher, his lovely, perfect, thoughtful witcher, who insists on giving him heart palpitation one after another.

“Jaskier?” Geralt softens, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice. “What do you think? Say something. Please.”

Tears blur his vision, and Jaskier chokes out a sob.

“I—”

His voice shudders with emotions, but the sight of Geralt being so unsure of himself is so unacceptable that Jaskier finds the strength to overcome himself. The sob turns into a wet chuckle.

“It’s good, Geralt. It’s the best news I’ve ever heard. You… you bought that cottage for us?” Jaskier lets the tears fall freely. Happiness tastes like salt on his tongue. “I never thought you’d ever want to stay in one place. I mean, you always said—”

“That witchers don’t retire?” Geralt catches the tears with a thumb, wiping away the streaks on Jaskier’s cheeks gently. “What else did I say?”

“That you don’t need anyone.”

“Hmm. Another lie. What else?”

Jaskier sniffles, hiding his wet cheek in Geralt’s palm. “That you don’t want me.”

Another string of tears streams down Jaskier’s face, and Geralt catches each and every one of them. He dabs them away with the edge of his sleeve, so carefully as if Jaskier could break with the barest touch.

Geralt presses a kiss at the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. It’s only a chaste thing to soothe him, but Jaskier kisses back fervently, desperately. The space between them seems too big. With an arm wrapped around Geralt’s back, still careful to avoid the bandage, he pulls them together. Salt melts between their lips.

They break apart, panting in tandem.

“You are all I ever want,” Geralt whispers, a promise carved upon Jaskier’s heart. “Just you, Jaskier. Forget the lies. I want you. I want… this, for us.”

It takes a while for the storm of emotions to calm down. Jaskier rests his forehead against Geralt’s temple, their bodies rocking together like waves lapping against the shore.

A small cottage by the coast, where the seabirds sing in the sky and the sand is cool between his toes. A place for Geralt to rest, for Jaskier to create, and for both of them to simply be.

The future of their life feels like an old, faded memory. They were always going to end up there from the very beginning. The moment they locked eyes in that small tavern in Posada, they were going to end up there.

Jaskier wipes away the last of the tears, spirit lightened.

“Wait.” He pulls away to look at Geralt, eyes still puffy. “Did you say you asked Yennefer to buy a house for you?”

Geralt winces visibly. “I may owe her a few favors again, but I’m sure she’ll be reasonable.”

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gives a look. “Reasonable?”

“Do you still doubt she has a soft spot for you, especially now that you’ve become less durable? The letters were nice enough. She even offered instructions,” Geralt says. “Told me to bring you back to the coast, make a grand gesture of sort. A nice picnic, she said, before breaking the big surprise.”

“See? Even Yen has more regard for my tender heart. Unlike a certain someone, who will put me through one hell of an emotional turmoil in one night.” Jaskier holds his chest dramatically. “It’s not good for an old man’s health!”

The laugh that Geralt lets out is better than any music Jaskier could ever write. It’s the reason for all those songs in the first place.

“I guess we are heading to the coast next.”

“Are we?”

Jaskier can’t help the grin on his face.

“Mm-hmm. For your health, old man,” Geralt teases. “I hear Cidaris is never too warm in the summer. The ocean carries over cold streams, all the way from the north. The wind is always cool. Sleep will come more easily for you.”

“But how will you cope? Won’t it be cold for you?”

Geralt hums, eyes crinkling. “I have you. I’m sure you’ll fuss enough.”

“You are damn right I will!” Jaskier begins his musing. “I’m going to make our home so cozy! Do you remember those rugs we saw at the winter market last year, the ones you said were too impractical for the road? Finally, I can get those, now that we have somewhere permanent to return to. And we shall build a garden for your herbs, and then a library for me. Plants and arts, let’s not forget! Oh, and those velvet robes you like!”

“I never said I liked them.”

Jaskier pokes Geralt on the cheek, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“You don’t need to. Your face betrays everything. You have this look when you see something you desire but don’t think you deserve—it’s how you used to look at me. I should have known you’d be the first one to suggest settling down. You always were the domestic one. The world just didn’t let you think it could be an option.” he pauses, softening. “Something must have changed your mind.”

The fondness in Geralt’s eyes melts into a golden pool of warmth. “It was someone, actually.”

He leans forward, tucking a strand of hair away from Jaskier’s face, fingers tracing the hair at his temple. A warm blush spreads across Jaskier’s face when he’s observed like this, with his crow’s feet and grey hair on display.

“That someone must be amazing,” Jaskier says, proud of his crow’s feet and grey hair when they are loved like this.

“Hmm. I don’t know. He’s very smug.” Geralt squints. “Less so with age. It wised him up, against all odds.”

They smile into another kiss as the morning sun rises, spilling silvery light into their room.

There are many things to plan in the process of building a new home. They will need to travel to the coast, for one, and then pick out all the furniture. Jaskier will insist on filling their life with soft, warm things for Geralt. Blankets, pillows, teas, and then, freshly collected flowers from their garden. Ciri will need a guest bedroom, for the girl to rest her weary feet when the path gets too much for a witcher-princess. And only the gods know when Yennefer will drop by, with her secret soft spot for domesticity.

There are many things to plan for the future.

But for now, they already have a home right here.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #old jaskier #a lot of cuddling #the new season is coming and the urge to write is back!#blorbos! in situations you go!

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