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e-dubbc11 · 2 years ago

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The Heart That Hurts You

The photos aren’t mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, a lot of it. Crying, a lot of it. Swearing. Little bit violent. Mention of a gun.

Word Count: 2132-ish

Summary: Your weekly Wednesday night dinner with Billy at your apartment takes an unexpected turn. After asking him what you thought was an innocent question, it escalates into a full blown fight that ends with you making him leave. He tries everything to try and get you back, but you’re not ready. Surprise ending. Part 1 of 2

A/N: I had a difficult time coming up with a title for this one so I’d like to thank my sweet sweet Lily @munsonownsmyass for coming to my rescue! I’ve been writing a LOT of fluff lately, mostly because that’s really all I got 🤣 but I felt I was due for some angst so I hope you guys like it.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

A lone piece of broken glass eluded your cleanup efforts in the aftermath of your fight with Billy because it was now lodged in the bottom of your foot. You managed to retrieve it without wincing too much. After pulling the glass out, you held it up to the light, pinched in between the tweezers, covered in blood and the tears began forming in your eyes.

You still loved him, with all your heart, you loved him but you weren’t going to let him do things like this, even if it meant leaving. No, that’s not how you were going to be treated.

He immediately regretted it as soon as he threw the glass, the shock and horror on his face was apparent after he had let go. It was too late though, he couldn’t take it back. You had never seen him so angry, so broken, or hurt that you would even ask that question.

And it wasn’t as if you were accusing him of cheating or questioning where he was last night, no, nothing like that. It was just, what you thought was, an innocent question. Why was he still going out on dangerous jobs as the CEO of his company? You had no idea he would react that way, how could you?

Billy Russo was a marine, a soldier, a combat veteran. In his words, that’s all he knew how to be. You knew that wasn’t true, he was so much more than he gave himself credit for. He started Anvil to give veterans an opportunity to continue their service but for a private contractor rather than being property of the United States government.

He did it because he understood some veterans feel they have no purpose after their service time is over, and he wanted to give them one. He cared about them and wanted to give them a chance if they felt like they still had work to do.

He had been working on himself to be a better boyfriend to you, a better CEO, and a better man. Billy tried very hard, for you but also for himself. He had overcome so much in his life but he still had slip-ups. This was a big one though, one you couldn’t let slide.

8 Weeks Ago

It was an ordinary Wednesday night, Billy always came over on Wednesdays and he brought Chinese food and wine with him. He set the table, the two of you had dinner and the conversation was great.

Billy was getting better at communicating to you how he felt or just communicating in general. But the conversation took a turn you weren’t expecting, and suddenly you didn’t recognize the person in front of you.

“Why do you still go out on dangerous jobs though, baby?” You asked him.

His expression became cold, he pressed his lips together and asked softly but through gnashed teeth “How could you even ask me something like that, y/n? Do you have any idea how important those jobs are for me? For my sanity? To be able to keep my shit together? Do you?!!”

And you don’t remember a lot of what happened after that or maybe you just didn’t want to remember. There were a few flashbacks of Billy getting angry, yelling, and the final straw of him throwing the wine glass and it shattering against the cabinet.

He didn’t throw the glass at you, he threw it off to the side, when it hit the cabinet, the pieces broke off in different directions, and one piece cut your chin slightly in the process. You were speechless, horrified, and your heart was completely broken. He didn’t mean it, you knew he didn’t but it didn’t matter. Billy needed to know he couldn’t just say “I’m sorry” and everything would be ok.

“Get out, Billy.” You calmly said.

“Baby, I’m so—“ He made a motion towards you when he saw the blood on your chin.

You cut him off. “I’m only going to tell you one more time before I call the police. Get…out…I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Sweet girl, please!” He pleaded with you.

Your voice would have broken if you didn’t compose yourself long enough to yell. “NOW BILLY!!”

He knew you meant what you said and as much as he wanted to hold you, kiss you, and apologize to you, Billy grabbed his suit jacket, looked at you one last time and walked out of your apartment.

After he left, everything you had been holding inside had risen to the surface, the tears started flowing, your whole body was shaking and you could barely hold yourself up.

He was gone.

Billy tried to call, you ignored him. He sent texts, you ignored those too and he also tried showing up at your office to get you to talk to him. You weren’t ready. He tried sending flowers but you threw them in the trash and he even tried sending you cards in the mail. But somehow, those didn’t get thrown away, they just sat in a pile on your coffee table, unopened.

At night, sometimes you would sit on your couch in silence with the soft glow of the city lights as your only light inside your apartment, holding one of the cards in your hand, smiling a little at his terrible handwriting, and wondering what was on the inside.

What could he possibly have to say for himself? He’s sorry and he misses you? He loves you? What is it? All you had to do was open one up and find out but you couldn’t do it, every time you tried your hand would begin to shake uncontrollably and you couldn’t bring yourself to open it.

The only thing you could do was stare at the tear stains you had made on them, your vision blurred from the tears to the point where you couldn’t even read your name anymore. And you’d gently place it back onto the table, still unopened.

Then there were the dreams. Billy invaded your dreams every night good or bad, he would be there, as soon as you’d close your eyes you would see his face. His rich, deep brown eyes were like freshly turned soil after the rain, gazing at you full of love and adoration.

No one ever showed you love quite like Billy did, kissing your shoulder every morning before even opening his eyes, leaving messages on the mirror after taking a shower, your initials along with his carved into a tree in Central Park, which was probably illegal but so sweet. You would dream about those things all the time.

Sometimes you had bad dreams and he was in those too. They were always the same, they were from that night. The arguing, the yelling, and glass everywhere, it was just on repeat in your mind all the time. Only in your dreams would you remember what was actually said that night, his words slipped into your heart like a piece of broken glass, they cut you deep and you wondered if the bleeding would ever stop.

“You want me to stop the only thing I know how to do, don’t you!! You just want me to sit behind a desk and not do anything to help my team!” He had said.

The words he shouted at you broke your heart, not because he was yelling at you but because, that wasn’t the only thing Billy knew how to do and you knew that. He was smart, there were other ways he could help veterans while running his company and not put himself in the middle of dangerous jobs all the time.

“That is NOT what I’m saying, Billy and you know that! That’s not the only thing you know how to do!” You remember saying and never at any point did he frighten you but he had crossed the line.

He started pacing, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger then pointing at his chest before shouting at you. “I’m a marine, y/n!! That IS all I know how to do and this fancy suit doesn’t change that! It doesn’t change what I did over there, it doesn’t! I need these jobs just as much as the vets I hire, do! I can’t give that up!”

That’s when the wine glass torpedoed into the cabinet, the pieces ricocheted in all directions and that’s always when you would wake up with that same tight feeling in your chest you had when it actually happened. Billy wasn’t there to comfort you like he usually did if you had a bad dream, you wanted him to be, even though he was the reason you were having them.

Present Day—Inside Billy’s Office

Billy sat at his desk, his eyes were half closed and the circles underneath his eyes were dark purple, he hasn’t slept in weeks. The knock on the door jolted him awake and Frank stuck his head inside.

“Hey Bill—can I talk to you for a minute?” Frank sounded concerned. He took one look at Billy and knew he hadn’t been sleeping, or eating. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“Thank you, Frankie—you ready for the job tonight?” Billy asked.

Frank sat down in the chair across from Billy. “Yeah see, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about—I don’t think you should go out tonight. I think maybe you should sit this one out or be our long shot across from the building—I know you miss her, I do, but you can’t protect other people if you’re not on top of your game, yeah? He’s a senator, we can’t fuck this up.”

Billy looked at Frank and leaned forward in his chair. “I appreciate your concern, Frankie, I do but I’m fine, alright? I’m fine. I’m always on the ground.”

Frank knew Billy wasn’t fine but he also knew Billy wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it. Billy was the best marine Frank had ever seen but he was going to keep a close eye on his friend tonight.

Your Apartment—Later on that Night

You took a little extra time with your nighttime routine, you washed and dried your hair, and in addition to your skincare you used a sheet mask for extra hydration. The air had been a little drier than usual so you used an all over body lotion also. Next, you spent more time looking for something to watch on tv than actually watching anything before ultimately just deciding to make it an early night and go to bed.

Before heading to your bedroom, you held Billy’s unopened cards in your hands again. You felt like a part of you was missing, you wondered what he was doing tonight, if he was ok, or if he was thinking about you. He was on your mind every minute of every day.

The past 8 weeks hadn’t been easy for you, crying every single night, leaving work in the middle of the day because you couldn’t concentrate on anything except him, and not really wanting to be around your friends because you didn’t want them to see you like this.

You weren’t making excuses for what he did because it was wrong but you understood why he reacted the way he did, you just wanted him to see himself the way you see him and for him to be safe. He thinks all he’ll ever be is a marine but he has such a big heart, he loves what he does and it wasn’t your intention to try and take that away from him.

You closed your eyes, gently kissed the envelope, and left it on the coffee table before heading off to bed.

It was the first time in a long time you had fallen into a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your phone buzzing scared you awake. Your eyes couldn’t even focus on the name “Billy” or his handsome face that appeared anytime he called so you just hit the answer button.

“Hello?” You said, your voice was raspy.

The voice on the other side wasn’t Billy’s. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Frank? What time is it? What’s going on?” You were wide awake now, you sat bolt upright in bed, and your heart was in your throat.

“Frank!? What happened!?” There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Frank spoke again. And the words that came out next were the ones you hoped you never had to hear.

“It’s Bill, sweetheart—he’s been shot.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕

#billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes

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forcefully-awoken · 4 years ago

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This is for the BNHArem’s villain AU collab!

Gang Orca x Reader

Rated: Teen? Mature? This is new territory for me.

CW: Sex work, kidnapping, idk stockholm syndrome?

The corruption of Kugo Sakamata is not the prolonged, drawn out affair the news has portrayed it to be. It wasn’t quietly brewing under his skin, needled at by the whispers and stares that plagued him. He was a good man, up until the point where he wasn’t. He was a kind man, until something inside of him snapped. It was as fast as the moment the first domino falls. The goodness is there.

Until it isn’t.

There’s a car alarm blaring outside your apartment.

It’s been like this for weeks now. There’s nothing else to do but get up, to go about your life as though nothing has changed when everything is different. It’s almost time for your stream, you note as you walk by your kitchen, ignoring your grumbling stomach to turn on the tv first. It’s still on the news station, just like when you turned it off last night.

If you can’t save the world, you might as well listen to it crumble.

You move back to the kitchen, trying to figure out what you have that will make an even half way satisfying dinner. Fuck, it’s been weeks since you were able to get to the shops. You settle for some ramen with an egg and some questionable vegetables on top. Waiting for the water to boil you can hear the news trickling in.

**Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.**

**One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.**

The heroes? You can’t decide if the anchor is optimistically naive or just plain stupid. You snort, stirring the noodles into the boiling water. The heroes haven’t been seen in ages, the top ten falling one by one to more and more villains. You’ve even heard talk of heroes becoming the villains.

**Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.**

**One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.**

“Yeah, no shit,” You talk back to the tv, preparing your dinner before walking carefully over to the couch with it. You want to turn it to a different channel, see if anything happier is on but you don’t. Can’t. You tell yourself it’s plain need, that you have to check to make sure it’s not your apartment in the path of destruction.

Lies.

You can’t turn it off because you don’t want to. You don’t want to because it’s become an addiction, like watching videos of disasters on the internet. Your food burns the roof of your mouth when you shovel it in but you can hardly tell. Ugh. You’ll need to go shopping this week.

Setting the dishes in the sink for later you turn the tv off, resigning yourself to an excursion this week. It’s not apocalyptic outside yet, but you don’t want to turn the risk of getting mugged, or worse. Whatever you need can wait until tomorrow though, you think, stepping into your bathroom to shower, put on some makeup for your stream.

Streaming isn’t exactly how you thought you would make money but it pays and it keeps you inside, keeps you safe. Once you deem yourself pretty enough you get the show on the road. Easy, light stream today.

You don’t even think you’ll need to take off your underwear.

“Would I ever fuck a villain?” You laugh as you read the question, absentmindedly tweaking a nipple as you do. You can hear the ping of donations stream in when you give a little shudder of pleasure. “Sure, some of them are pretty hot. You ever seen that Gang Orca? I bet he’s packing.”

It ends with little fanfare after that, and soon enough you're back in bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep eludes you. There’s noises outside, loud shouting, what sounds like glass breaking. Just one more stream, just enough to save up to move into a different neighborhood, a safer one. Then maybe you can rest.

Morning comes before you want it to.

You pick plain clothes, a little form fitting so people can’t grab you, but loose enough to move in if you have to run. You keep your head down as you lock your door behind you, moving with quick, sure steps. The store is out of a few things but you manage to stock up on essentials for another few weeks. You did it, thank fuck, nobody even hassled you that much.

Right when you slip your key into the door is where it all goes wrong.

“Don’t scream,” the voice behind you is low, and despite your better instincts you listen. “Open the door and I won’t hurt you.”

Yet, you think but obey anyways. There’s a presence behind you, large and overly looming. A large hand drops onto your shoulder right when you hear the door shut. There’s something digging into your shoulder and a quick, darting glance reveals- claws?

Oh, no.

It can’t be.

You stumble forward in an attempt to get away, twisting your body around. It’s a nightmare come true- not just a villain in your home but one of the worst ones. He’s so much larger in real life than you thought he would be. So much more intimidating when you finally meet his red eyes.

Kugo Sakamata.

Gang Orca.

Standing in your living room.

The last thing you see before you faint is his hands coming towards you.

It’s too quiet when you wake up now.

Your room is too dark, save for the open laptop on your desk. Your arms are tied to your desk chair, legs as well. You can see him in the room, but you know he has to be there. Nothing appears to have been taken. You have no idea what’s going on, until he steps back into view.

“Hello there,” His voice is smoother than you would have imagined from before. God, he looks even taller from this angle. Your neck strains to look up at him all the way. His hand comes up to cup your cheek lightly, some sort of parody of a lover’s touch.

You only barely manage to hold back your shudder of revulsion.

He can see it in your eyes though, and his hand jerks back as if he’s been burned. Good, you hope something has hurt him. He’s already shattered your limited sense of security- hostage, in your own home. If you make it out of this alive you won’t even be able to move. He turns away from you, stepping to your computer. You can’t see around him, he blocks out all the light as he stands between the screen and you.

“Do you know why I’m here, little one?” You had the way the diminutive name sounds as it falls from his mouth, almost soft and bordering on sweet. You remain silent, fear locking your jaw shut tight. He continues on without you anyways, “You should. It was only last night when you said what you want from me.” He steps to the side, allowing you to see what’s on your computer now.

He’s started a stream.

Shit, you knew your dumb mouth would come back to haunt you one day. You just didn’t think it would be like this. Your mouth drops open but no words come out. Vaguely, you can read the chat- lots of concern but those messages are being drowned out by people asking, no telling, Gang Orca to do all sorts of depraved things to you. The fucking perverts.

“You could tell them where you are,” He sits behind you on the bed now, arms coming up to wrap around you, caging you in. “Or you can watch how quickly the average man turns when there’s something he thinks he wants.”

You’re still clothed, but you can feel the heat of him through it. How is he so warm? He shifts forwards even more, a hand coming up to hold your jaw, showing you off to the screen. You feel even more naked than during your actual streams. You feel exposed, every nerve like a livewire beneath your skin.

“I could kill you, you know,” His voice sounds almost detached, like he’s bored with the situation, “I think they would like that.” The grip on your jaw tightens. “You can already see what they want me to do to you, how they want me to defile you. There’s almost nobody concerned with your safety now.”

Your eyes strain as you take in the chat, blinking back tears as you realize he’s right. There’s nobody asking you if you’re alright now- only demands, promises to pay whatever the cost is if Gang Orca will only get the show on the road. You wonder why the site hasn’t automatically shut down your stream, after all one of the most notorious villains is right there, begging to be caught.

Until you catch sight of how many people are watching.

“You’re too popular to turn off,” There’s a hint of something sad in his voice, regret mixed with a fondness you can’t place. It’s like he expected this, like this is all going according to plan. “They don’t want to shut down what’s making them money hand over fist.”

You hate to acknowledge that he’s right. The stupid fish fuck is exactly on the mark. The site takes a portion of your donations, and the amount it’s at right now isn’t just your own personal record, it’s a sitewide one. There’s no way they’ll shut you down, try to get you help. Not when there’s still money to be made.

“Don’t you see?” His voice tickles your ear as he whispers into it. You don’t want to see. It’s like you can predict what he will say next. You don’t want him to confirm it, to confirm the worst fears inside of you.

“It’s not just the villains that are bad,” Between his arms and his voice you can almost forget that it feels like the whole world is watching you now, watching this corruption. “I’m evil, but at least I’m honest. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to. How many of them can say that?”

He’s right, of course he is. How else could the world get this bad? Someone along the way stopped caring, and then another, until there were more eyes looking away than could be helped. Easier to ignore the wrong and look out for number one, after all isn’t that what you had been doing?

“Join me,” he breathes, “Be free.”

You don’t hesitate, not now. You let the next two words slip from your mouth not without thought, but free from it. The last tether of your sanity snaps.

“Kiss me.” It’s a plea, one he obeys with a vicious grin. His mouth presses to yours.

The next domino falls.

#gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #bnharem collab

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mxndoscyarika · 4 years ago

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Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 2

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink, alcohol, loneliness

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas, everyone! Here’s a little gift from me to you 😌 I hope you like it! Let me know what you think in the comments below.

8 years later

Winter in DC was too cold. It had reached that time of year when the roads turned icy at the slightest humidity in the air, and it had already snowed at least twice since December began. Thankfully, the snow didn’t stick around very long; FBI agents were on-call 24/7. A double-edged sword, really. On one hand, it meant work was a great way to avoid problems. It was easier to forget. On the other hand, well, it was work.

“Six years in this city and it’s still so fucking cold,” Erin muttered to herself, shivering as her car warmed up. She buried her face into the scarf wrapped around her neck, trying to warm up. The warmth from the heated steering wheel seeped into her fingers, soothing the ache in her joints. She was supposed to meet Sachi at the bar for drinks. It had become a regular event in her weekly life; one night a week to go out and relax.

Some would’ve said that her promotion meant she could take more time off. That she could delegate a little more and take on a lighter workload as a result. But as a supervisor for the Operational Technologies branch, she had all the more reason to work more. Well, that’s what she convinced herself, at least.

Her friend and coworker, Sachi, was already seated at a table by the time she arrived. The bar was pretty busy, busier than the week before. It made sense; the holidays were always a time for friends and family to catch up on each other’s lives.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, a meeting went overtime and I ran into some traffic on the way here,” Erin apologized, draping her wool coat over the back of her seat and sitting down. The next article to be shed was her scarf, which she kept piled on her lap. “Were you waiting long?”

“No, no worries,” her friend answered, shrugging. “I just got this table a couple minutes ago. Happy hour seems extra popular this week. How was the meeting?”

She rolled her eyes. “The usual; operations found some bugs in the new software and had some suggestions, so half of the developers will be working on that while the rest continue building our newest tool. How did your day go?”

“It was so slow, I don’t know which politician decided to choose yesterday to fuck up, but there were files everywhere,” Sachi groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly. Her eyes landed on the sparkling gem on Erin’s hand. “I do have a question for you, though: why do you wear that ring?”

She raised a dark brow, then followed her line of sight to her hand. “Oh, this? It’s….it’s just something to keep the men away, that’s all. You know how they are.”

A curious head tilt. “I do, but are you sure that’s what you want? You deserve to find someone who makes you happy, Rin.”

Erin gave her a tight-lipped smile, twisting the metal band around her finger. It was a recent purchase; a gift to herself. A promise. A promise to remember. Even if he wasn’t hers to remember, at the end of the day.

“Is this still about that Marcus Pike guy?” Sachi asked, her voice softening as Erin avoided looking up. She reached across the table and covered her hand with hers. The glittering band of her own wedding ring seemed to mock her. “It’s been seven years since he went missing, Rin. You searched for him yourself; he’s gone.”

The news had broken just before Erin arrived in DC. Marcus Pike had gone missing, and there seemed to be no trace of him. His last known address was empty, his file had been wiped from all government databases, even his social media accounts were nonexistent.

One of the first things she did after her promotion was asking for a search squad. His number was still in her phone, but the number was no longer receiving calls. Even his email seemed to be deactivated, but it had existed before. There should’ve been a digital trail. It didn’t matter to her that it had been months since he was last seen–he was her best friend, and she wasn’t going to give up on him that easily.

Juggling her work with the investigation took its toll on her. Sleep eluded her, so she upped her coffee intake and spent countless hours off the clock. As a result, exhaustion settled in mid-day. Her work grew sloppy, obvious problems going untended and creating delays in operations.

The head of the department shut down her search after a year. He had cited it being a “waste of resources.” Maybe it was, to them. For such a large bureau with so many applicants, there was bound to be a replacement for Agent Pike. But even so, no one could replace Marcus.

“I know,” she replied softly. “I know. I’m trying, it’s just...I’ve spent years working for the FBI, and every time I stop to check the time, it’s like months have passed. And you know how my last relationship ended.”

She had been seeing a guy working for a tech startup, and at first it was great. The late nights and morning texts had been enough. But as time went on, and she became more immersed in her work following the election, her boyfriend grew restless. He wanted his girlfriend at home with him, preparing dinner and asking him about his day at the startup. Then he started the accusations. He accused her of cheating, of rubbing her success in his face.

Everything he said was false, but she had given up on trying to convince him. So she gave him a choice. He could leave if he wanted to, and there would be no hard feelings, just incompatibility. Or, he could stay, and she’d try to make more time for him. He chose the former.

“Oh come on,” Sachi reasoned, tapping the back of her hand. “You’re beautiful, smart, can kick ass. There has to be someone who’s into that.”

“Maybe,” Erin shrugged. Once upon a time, she had hoped she would meet someone like that. And in a way, she had. But at the end of the day, she was a coward. She was a coward, and she paid the price for it.

They always said that time was money. In her case, the price she paid was high.

Sachi’s eyes lit up. “You know what? Why don’t you come to a holiday party I’m hosting? Maybe you’ll meet someone there.”

“Who’s going?”

“Some of our coworkers, some of my friends, and their friends, potentially,” she listed off, waving off her concern. “Nothing very special, in my opinion.”

A party would be nice. If not for the company, then for the food; and if not the food, then the drinks. Yes, the drinks. Drinks were good.

Erin conceded with a nervous grin. “Alright, but no meddling!”

“Yay!” she squealed. Then, her expression turned serious again. She pointed at the ring. “But whatever you do, don’t wear that.”

---

Sachi’s house looked like it was out of a movie. Tall and sparkling with lights, her home was the textbook picture of a family Christmas. There was even a wreath on the front door and a wooden sign with drawn-on snowflakes that welcomed the party guests.

The foyer was lined with emerald garlands and shimmering fairy lights, leading her further in towards the kitchen. From giant gold ornaments to wooden figurines, it seemed as if she had thought of everything.

When she reached the kitchen, there were already some guests gathered around the kitchen island. Platters of sweets and charcuterie boards were spread over the marble countertop, glistening in the soft light. The guests grazed from small plates as they greeted each other and raved about how great it was to finally catch up.

Perhaps she’d host her own holiday party someday. When she had the space, of course. The apartment that she’d chosen wasn’t the best for groups, and she wanted enough surface area for decorations. Her string of lights and small tree at home paled in comparison to the giant tree in Sachi’s living room.

The invite had specified a semi-formal dress code, so she chose a black off-the-shoulder dress that reached her knees. She paired it with some black heels and a white blazer draped over her shoulders for warmth. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

“Erin!” Sachi squealed, coming over to give her a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re right on time. Everyone else should be arriving soon.” She shooed her away. “Go have fun! And if you need a wingwoman, I’ve got your back.”

Erin shivered as Sachi swept off her jacket, the cool air brushing against her shoulders. Nevertheless, she smiled. “Thanks.”

“Of course!” she replied. The next thing she knew, a glass of champagne was tucked into her hand. “Now go!”

What Sachi had failed to tell her, though, was that she was going to be one of the only singles in the entire house.

Wherever she turned, she found couples congregated into circles where they could discuss...whatever couples discussed. Not wanting to barge in as a third, fifth, or seventh wheel, she stuck close to the perimeter of the room.

Thankfully, she found an acquaintance from work who had also come to the party alone.

“Waiting for someone?” Ashley asked, sipping from a half-empty glass of wine. She was one of the receptionists for the technologies department. They’d spoken a couple times, but never much more than professional talk.

Erin shook her head and finished her third glass of champagne. Maybe she’d try the moscato next, just to change things up a little. The whole point of attending the party was to relax, right? So, she was trying to relax. “Just trying to loosen up. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to a party.” A soft laugh. “I can see why people like bringing a friend along. It would help a lot.”

“Why didn’t you, then?” At the lack of response, she sighed. “Is work still taking up a lot of time? You know you can take more time off.”

Yes, she knew. She’d heard it nearly a thousand times already. She knew she could take time off just like she knew she could forget about her past and move on. Part of her wanted to change, to move on as if nothing had happened. But after years of the same routine, and the same decisions coming back to bite her, it was hard to change.

“I know,” Erin replied, pressing a hand against her forehead. It was hotter than normal–did Sachi turn up the heating? She silently cursed her genetics; she’d probably have a fever later that night. “But as you know, there’s always more work to do. I signed up for this, so I need to do my job.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t rest,” she reasoned, nudging her arm. “Are you still leading the search for that guy? Marcus Pike? I remember you were pretty involved with that.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the alcohol. She gripped the glass a bit tighter. Her voice was clipped as she said, “No, I’m not. The search squad was disbanded years ago. We spent a year searching for him and there was nothing. There was nothing.” She swayed as she stood up, but quickly regained her balance. “I’m gonna….get another drink. Is there anything you want me to bring?”

“No thanks,” Ashley replied. Watching as Erin stumbled, she asked, “Are you sure you want another drink? Maybe you should take a break first.”

She waved her off. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just the shoes.”

Yeah, right.

Erin’s turn around the corner was much too sharp, and her sluggish mind barely seemed to register the fact that she collided with a broad chest. Strong arms came up around her, holding her in place so she didn’t fall over. They were warm. Before she could stop herself, she splayed her hands on their chest, brows furrowed. What did Sachi put in there?

Then, she looked up and met the person’s eyes. Dark brown ones, to be exact. With a depth and sparkle that she hadn’t seen since Austin. Softly, she said, “M-Marcus?”

The man’s lips parting in shock. As Erin’s slightly-blurred gaze drifted down to his mouth, she frowned. No, it couldn’t be her Marcus; her Marcus didn’t have facial hair, nor did he wear glasses. He was handsome, though–just as handsome. And he was strong–she felt safer in his arms than she had in years.

“H-how do you know my name?”

His voice was similar, too, though a bit raspier.

She blinked. Then, it dawned on her; it wasn’t a dream. She really was at a party, in a dress pressed up against a very good-looking man who looked vaguely like her late best friend. It felt as if she had jumped into the snow without clothes on. She blushed and flinched away from him–as if she needed to be even redder–and said, “Sorry, you just look a bit like an old friend of mine. His name was also Marcus.”

It was her, Marcus realized. He would have recognized her voice anywhere, and when she looked up at him with those dark, green-flecked eyes, his years in Texas came rushing back to him. Part of him didn’t want to believe it. What was she doing in DC? And what were the chances that they’d meet again, with his changed identity?

Even so, she was as beautiful as he remembered, her smooth black hair styled into shining waves and her full lips painted a muted pink. In their time as friends, he rarely saw Erin out of her work clothes; a side effect of working for the FBI. Seeing her in a dress, and up close, against his chest felt like a dream. A dream that had plagued his mind for nearly a decade.

At the same time, she looked different. There was an air of exhaustion that clung to her just as tightly as her authority. Her eyes didn’t have the same bright sparkle that she had on her first day. He wondered if her smile was the same, and if she still took her coffee with two sugars and a splash of cream. If she still collected houseplants as if they were pets. If she was still the Erin he remembered.

The tugging in his chest pulled him towards her, and the old whisper of Marcus Pike urged him to tell the truth. To drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. To tell her that he was sorry for leaving her, for dismissing her concerns about Lisbon. For disappearing without a trace. But Marcus Moreno, his new identity, his new life, knew it wouldn’t be fair to her.

So he introduced himself. A wave of relief washed over him as Erin giggled softly and shook his hand, telling him her name.

He’d missed her laugh, and the way the corners of her eyes crinkled just slightly when she was happy. He missed everything. He missed her.

“So,” she began, swaying a little. Her last drink was finally kicking in. Her brows furrowed in concentration. “How do you know, uh, Sachi?”

The little furrow of her brows was still adorable; he knew it only showed when she was thinking really hard. He just hoped she would remember their interaction in the morning. She rarely drank enough to get drunk, not wanting to bother with her body’s violent reaction to alcohol. Or so she told him.

“I’m a friend of her husband,” he replied, touching her arm softly as she swayed again. “Do you…do you want to sit down for a bit? We can keep talking, I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Erin hummed softly and nodded. “Yes, but don’t worry, I can handle a little fall.”

“I don’t doubt you can, Miss FBI.” Realizing his mistake, he cringed. So much for trying to have a fresh start. He guided her over to the table and pulled out a chair for her, making sure she was comfortable before sitting down in the seat next to her.

She frowned. “How do you know I work for the FBI?”

A pause. Then, he answered, “I overheard Sachi talking about you. You two seem to be pretty close.”

Drumming her fingertips on the table, she answered, “I guess so, yeah. She was one of my first friends after I moved here six years ago.” Her eyes glazed over with a tinge of sadness. “Time seems to be flying by very fast these days.”

Marcus sighed softly. “Yeah.” He offered her a smile that made her heart flutter. Or maybe that was just her stomach? “I guess it’s up to us to make the most out of it, right?”

She nodded. Propping her head up against her hand, she replied, “Definitely. So, tell me about yourself, Marcus Moreno. I think you mentioned a daughter?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the mention of Missy. If there was anything he didn’t regret in the past few years, it was meeting his late wife and raising his baby. But the story of his wife could come later; for now, he wanted to tell his best friend about his little girl.

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foreficfandom · 5 years ago

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The Arcana - Cooking For MC (Headcanons)

-- Asra --

Life as a street orphan makes cooks of us all. If he wasn’t a child desperately stealing fruit, he was a teenage magician earning coppers to buy scraps from the butcher and bartering for old, bruised squash. He quickly had to learn how to stretch his meager rations as far as he could, and cooking was the way to do it.

He’s come a long way from the one single pot he and Muriel would squat over while hiding away in the docks. Now, he and you happily enjoy a consistent diet of fresh groceries, sometimes he cooks and sometimes you do.

All his cookery he learned in Vesuvia - pasta, lentils, chickpeas, tomatoes, cumin, basil, ocean seafood. The both of you don’t quite earn enough to splurge on the good cuts of beef, but you never have to worry about going hungry.

And you don’t have to worry about bland, burnt food, either. Asra can reliably hold his own in the kitchen. He doesn’t exactly follow recipes, just tosses together stuff according to what feels right in his heart. A holdover from the days where he had to improvise all his food.

There’s more holdovers; he hates tossing away uneaten food, or groceries that have gone bad. He’ll keep the chicken bones to make into a broth for tomorrow. He never peel potatoes or fruit ‘cause the skins contain valuable nutrients. He cringes at people who throw away the heads of fish. The leftover fat in the pan is made into gravy, or pastry frosting, or soap. Occasionally, he and you give away your leftovers to the urchins that hang around the neighborhood.

When it’s his turn to cook, expect traditional Vesuvian cuisine like flatbreads, hummus, and vegetable soup. Herbs used in the shop are sometimes thrown into the dish, like thyme or myrtle leaves. Asra’s cooking regularly gets to grace your stomach, and it’s very lovely and nice uwu

-- Julian --

Everybody who knows Julian holds vehemently that he can’t cook worth a damn. He’s not gonna poison you, but it’s true that he can’t do more than toss various things into a pot and pray that it comes out edible.

So when he’s forced to cook, everything ends up tasting like the same sort of bland, unspiced mush. And it’s almost always boiled, never roasted or fried. He just seems incapable of not burning anything, so he avoids pancooking ingredients if he can avoid it. And even his soups tend to have burnt residue at the bottom.

Not only that, but traditional Nevevion cuisine ... can be an acquired taste in itself. Like pickled herring covered with beet mayonnaise, cold aspic on toast, and really, really salty fish roe. He grew up eating actually good food cooked by his adopted family, but it’s unfortunately easy to turn a cabbage and potato recipe into nasty gross mush, especially under Julian’s hands.

He knows he’s shit at cooking, but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Ready-made takeout isn’t always available in their world, so if someone needs to eat, they usually gotta cook. Cue boiled chicken and carrots a-la Julian. At least he added some salt, this time. He blames his Nevevion heritage for lacking an affinity for spices.

With shitty cooking skills come an ability to eat anything. Julian doesn’t turn down a dish if he’s hungry, even if it’s some bullshit. Except for spicy stuff - it’s like the only pain he doesn’t get off on. Just a little jalapeno in his rice will turn his entire face red and give him hiccups.

So say you don’t have time to cook dinner for the both of them tonight, he’d much rather the two of you go eat at an inn than force your divine tongue to be sullied by his dreadful meals. However, he can be taught to cook if you two can find the time, and will eventually get the hang of it. You and Julian in the kitchen, warm and cozy, teaching him how to make a good macaroni? Now that’s an afternoon date in the making.

-- Nadia --

Growing up royal meant Nadia never had to cook for herself. To some, it’d be very improper for someone of Nadia’s standing to ever cook, especially in the same kitchen as the servants. But in-between her piano lessons and fencing training and literacy/history/mathematic/public speaking tutoring, she also devoted some personal time in reading up on skills she wouldn’t have been taught - like gardening, jewelry craft, and also cooking and baking.

She had this stint of candy-making when she was a teen, after seeing sugarspun candies in the market that were shaped into different, multi-colored animals and flowers. She would sneak into the kitchen and, with the help of particular cook friend, make candied nuts, meringues, taffies, marzipan. And with the skills she learned making candies, she also learned how to bake and cook various things.

Rarely did she ever get to exercise her cooking skills beyond a mere pastime. She had no one to cook for, nor enough spare time. So very few people knew she bakes a mean butter cashew cake.

One day, she just kinda absentmindedly mentions that she knows how to cook a few things, so you insist she show you, which kinda takes her off-guard and she’s a little nervous, because it’s been a long time since she busted out the ol’ apron, and what if you don’t like what she makes??

She goes to the kitchens and almost bails out, even briefly entertains the thought of passing off the chef’s cooking for her own, but chases that thought from her mind. The palace servants gets to witness the Countess roll up her sleeves with a determined grunt and go ham on some pistachios.

You wait patiently in the solar (as she instructed), and Nadia brings up a beautiful tray of brightly colored nut-flour sweets with tea. Nadia herself is a little worse for wear, with a dusty face and tangled hair. But she’s thrilled to see you enjoy her cakes. They taste wonderful, doubly so because of the love she put into them.

-- Muriel --

He almost always cooks for himself, ever since his street urchin childhood, and his skills have only improved while living in the woods. He’s no longer scraping mussels off of dock beams to boil in a thin cauldron, he’s hunting 8-feet-tall elk and using every inch of the animal, from boiling the hooves for aspic, to making sausages out of the intestines (the antlers are powdered for their magical properties).

It’s rarer that he ever wants for something he can’t produce himself. He boils his own sea salt, curdles his own cheese, presses his own oil. The problem is that he doesn’t make an effort to make delicious-tasting food. Unlike Julian, who cooks like shit but still enjoys the finer things in life, Muriel has access to super fresh and good-quality ingredients but is ruled by his practicality.

Living in the woods is tough. If the harvest was bad and all Muriel has is last autumn’s rice harvest, then its porridge for the next month. There’s nothing for it; hunting is unreliable even in an expert’s hands, fishing only a tad less so, and a simple wet season or early frost can ruin a garden quicker than a plague.

Muriel may have said he didn’t need your help around the hut, but your help truly did make a difference when it came to food security. An extra set of hands made for less time and lighter work. Your influence also shined through his cooking; now, he actually does care if something tastes good, because you were eating it with him. Muriel could survive just fine on perpetual pottages, but you deserved better.

Hence, roasts that are actually seasoned, bread with jam and butter, and salt not just for preserving purposes.

Cooking stopped becoming just a means, but a creative outlet for Muriel. He wanted to treat you, and in turn it became something special for himself, too.

-- Portia --

The Devorak siblings have one collective braincell, and Portia’s got dibs on it. So she’s got the cooking skills that seemed to have eluded Julian, and she’s very good; the best out of the six.

As a hand-maiden, cooking isn’t part of her duties, but to even get hired she had to prove she could hold her own in the kitchen on par with royal cuisine. It’s beyond simply being able to replicate a recipe, she knows how to carve game into the right cuts, memorize the seasonal harvests, estimate temperatures by touch, and other complicated kitchen sciences.

Portia spent her life traveling on ships, so she’s witness many a worldly cuisine and it’s influenced her skills. Nothing impresses a table more than introducing some ‘exotic’ spice and using it right. Her own personal favorites are from all corners of the land. Her dinner spread can consist of Hjalle shrimp pancakes, Galbradian green bean broth, Prakran flatbread, and lamb roasted in an underground oven like they do in Firent.

Once she has the opportunity to cook (or bake) for you, be prepared for a storm. You’re never gonna have to want for good cuisine again, not if Portia has anything to say about it. Even the little things she makes, like her strawberry jam or workhouse-style bread, taste great. You ask her why she doesn’t pursue a career in cuisine, and she replies that cooking is an outlet for her, not a job. Plus, she’s far from a ‘truly skilled cook’, according to her. That honor’d go to Mazelinka.

A lot of her budget she’ll happily relinquish to cooking, such as imported spices or the expensive cuts of game. She knows that the smallest difference in quality - such as in the salt, or vinegar, used - can make or break a dish. Her kitchen is always fully stocked with groceries and ingredients. One of her big splurges was investing in an icebox, and before she had you, a magician, in the picture, she was indeed buying ice to keep her meats fresh.

Whether its a wrapped lunch or weekend roast dinner, Portia will always want to spoil you in the best way she knows how; through your stomach. Your waistline might be less happy, but like heck Portia’d take pudge as a negative.

-- Lucio --

He’s been Count for over two decades, but before that he was a rough-and-tumble mercenary. And before that, he grew up in the infamous Scourge Lands, where etching out a living was always a matter that teetered on the brink of a knife.

He had to learn how to live tough. The Scourge Lands are no lush forest like Muriel’s backyard, it’s a flat tundra with limited vegetation and even lesser animals that aren’t more likely to kill you before you kill them. The entire clan’s been living off of bitter turnips for weeks, but finally a family of boars are scouted. Now you just have to take down a bear-sized boar while circling around five others who all want to gore you.

Even cooking can be a struggle. Life as a mercenary meant trying to strike fires on cold, damp wood in a freezing drizzle, and keeping it lit long enough to roast the skinny fish you managed to spear. It meant knowing which plants were edible and which caused three nights of stomach pains, and also being willing to resort to digging up grubs when you’re really on the brink of starvation.

So does he know how to cook? Yeah, he can roast meat over a fire and know when its safe from pathogens, but other than that he’s lost. He was so happy to finally have cooks and servants to serve him entire banquets. Never did he learn (nor want to learn) how to bake bread, or fry potatoes, nevermind suckling pig or creme brulee.

If come a time where you and Lucio are away from the precious palace kitchens, he’ll rely on his wallet to buy the two of you a nice meal. If the two of you are lost in the wilderness, don’t worry, Lucio to the rescue and you can trust him to forage something, and grill it on a hot rock. No salt, though. Not even water to wash it down, if you’re really unlucky.

Still, it’s kinda a surprise to eat Lucio’s emergency field cooking, because it’s not awful. The best anyone can do in the circumstance, even. Make sure to tell him that, he’s always fishing for compliments.

#the arcana #the arcana imagines #the arcana headcanons #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel the arcana #portia devorak #count lucio

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bisexual-horror-fan · 4 years ago

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"Crescendo." Warwick Wilson X AFAB!Reader.

Hey! So I know, I know, I still got asks in my box and am commited to those but it has been a minute since I have done something fully for me and totally self indulgent! So that means some Warwick Wilson. I have always wanted to do a follow up to this piece I did back in Feb, Upon His Table, that, as well as this are movie spoiler free so read away with no fear if you haven't seen the movie! Hope you all dig this and enjoy this follow up!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 6.4K. Warwick Wilson X AFAB!Reader. Warnings. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Edging. Asking For Permission. Asking For Forgiveness. Punishment Play. Fingering. Public Shenanigans. Oral Sex. Blow Jobs. Road Head. Vaginal Sex. Creampie.

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Crescendo.

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You wanted to kiss your friend.

You wanted to thank them profusely, take them out for dinner or at the very least send them an edible arrangement for the part they played in this. If it wasn’t for the fact that your friend was late that night at that art exhibit you might not have ever met him and that was simply unthinkable now.

You fit together so well, couldn’t be happier with him honestly.

He was drawn to you inexplicably that first night and struck up conversation over the painting you were looking at and it was a fantastic choice on his part, you had impressed him with your knowledge and insight. You looked great and your opinions were incredible, the conversation continued as you both viewed more art and he had such a great time. He was into you and if the way you were looking at him was any indication you were very much into him in return. Just when he thought you couldn’t get better, you surprised him. He had to run, unfortunately, but wanted to get your information, more than just your name and instead you suggested something totally wild and out of left field, suggested as you called it a serendipitous act of faith, call it for now and if you run into each other again to hold on and not let go.

He never could have anticipated you saying that but he was so utterly enamored by you that he simply couldn’t turn you down, as much as he wanted to do everything possible to get to know you at that very moment he decided listening to you was imperative. He agreed. And so you both bid farewell and while it took a few days for you to be kicking yourself for not getting his number, for him it was that very night when he was back at his job that had so cruelly cut your first meeting so short.

Luckily he ended up finding you. It was over a week later, he was out grabbing some lunch and on the way back to work when he saw you, he had to pause, looking at you sitting at that table outside. You were drenched in the afternoon sunlight, pouring over an open book, drink and pastry in front of you and he knew he couldn’t wait a moment longer as he strode to you and took the seat opposite, unable to stop his smile as he said simply, “Found you.”

And thank God he did.

That was the start of you two dating and it was kind of unbelievable how well you two meshed and got along, bonding over art and literature and food, it was wonderful.

And speaking of wonderful, that first night that he brought you to his house with the offer to cook you dinner fit that word perfectly. The food was amazing, the conversation was mentally stimulating and painfully fraught with ample flirtation and it escalated so the first time you got truly physical beyond basic kissing happened on his dining room table. He ate you out with care and skill that made your head swim, edged you beautifully and one hundred percent on purpose, you used your own mouth on him and were a bit too cheeky and ended up bent over the table. You were treated to the simply exquisite feel of him sinking inside of you for the very first time, stretching you beautifully, you were made to hold on as he fucked you and it was better than you ever could have dreamed of.

You might have gotten just a bit too into it however, hands gripping that white table cloth, twisting and tugging on it and in the throes of ecstasy you pulled too hard and tipped your wine glass, spilling the sweet pink alcohol and making such a mess.

He stopped with you on the bleeding edge of what promised to be a mind melting orgasm, calling you out on the mess you made and wondering out loud just what he should do with you. What he did to you really sealed the deal that yes you two were in for something special in being together, that this was the right call and utterly amazing, that you were compatible on every level, not just mental and emotional or on interests but on that oh so important physical frontier.

He told you that if you wanted to make a mess then he might just be in the mood to make a mess too, and what better thing to make a mess of than you? He held still, cockwarmed you and made you apologize, beg for his forgiveness, barely moving at all in you, one of his hands snaked around you, fingers pressed to your aching clit and if it weren’t for the table supporting your weight surely your legs would have given out. You begged as he wished, pleaded, and finally when he deemed it good enough, truly believed your words he set to it again, he fucked you and made you come for that first time and you nearly sobbed, his name the only thing on your tongue.

Once wasn’t good enough.

On it went and by the end of it you were three orgasms deep and your legs wouldn’t stop shaking and he came over your ass and let the sticky evidence of his pleasure run down your ass and over the backs of your thighs as you feebly attempted to catch your breath.

He checked in to make sure you were fine. You were more than fine, you fucking loved every second of it and made sure he knew. You loved how he was so seemingly proper and could carry on conversation about the most intelligent of pursuits and cook the best food and then fuck you like that; insanely well and with heat and a dominative aspect and nigh reckless abandon.

He proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you really could have it all.

And all of that and more is what led you to wanting to find some way to thank that friend of yours for setting you down this path with him. You’d been seeing each other for a couple of months now and couldn’t be happier. The physical aspect was still fairly new, you two didn’t rush into it, taking weeks upon weeks to reach that point but now that you had? Keeping your hands off of each other was essentially impossible if you were in private.

Tonight was a big deal.

Your dates so far have been an amazing time but you hadn’t done anything crazy, most of your first dates were day dates, sightseeing and lunches and things pertaining to art and culture and history, lunches and walking in parks, all more casual and freeform. Until that dinner he hosted just for you of course but even still you hadn’t gone out together at night, just had some admittedly very fun nights in. He told you he had taken care of everything and knowing him you were positive he planned it all with as much finesse and care he put into everything he did. All he told you was to not eat and to dress up, like really dress up and so you listened, the tone he used on the phone with you was delicious and you couldn’t help but let your mind run wild wondering with thoughts of what he might have planned.

He was coming by your apartment for the first time in order to pick you up. You had made the trek to his place instead of him coming over thus far and you were so fine with that, I mean he actually owned his own house and while you loved your apartment his place was much admittedly nicer.

You were practically vibrating with excitement as you got ready. You hoped that what you had was nice enough, you might have gone out and gotten a new dress just for the occasion, what could you say? You wanted to impress him as much as he impressed you on a constant basis.

You weren’t planning on staying here but you cleaned up all the same, it was the first time he was seeing your place after all, and just as you were making sure you had everything in your clutch and slipping into your heels, almost as if it was on cue, there was a knock at your door. You strode to the door and pulled it open to find him there ready and waiting, perfectly on time as expected, even more dressed up than usual, which for a man like him who seemingly lived in suits was saying something. He was looking away and upon opening the door he took in the sight of you and the smile that crossed his face as he looked you up and down, you were so curious about what he might have to say about how you were dressed and he didn’t keep you waiting as he spoke, “Well look at you. Making me feel underdressed.”

How did he always know just what to say?

“You’re one to talk you big flatterer.”

You reached for the lightswitch near the door as you asked, “Ready to go?”

“What? Aren't you going to invite me in?” He asked it in a tone that read as being mock-offended and you were tempted but you knew it could go one of two ways, you knew yourself and you knew him and if you invited him in that you might not end up leaving at all tonight, might get too wrapped up in each other. Or the alternative, you could invite him in and allow him to tease you relentlessly and rile you up and THEN go out while making a mess in your panties and not get any relief until hours later, after whatever he had in store for you both tonight.

So you took the third option, not allowing him inside at all. “And let you mess up my outfit and make-up before we even go anywhere? Not a chance.” You teased him in return, turned off the light with a smile and stepped out, door shut and locked. He snapped his fingers as he said, “Damn.” and after putting your keys in your bag you took his hand and said, “Maybe next time Warwick.”

“Promise?” He asked hopeful and you nudged him with your shoulder and a light laugh, a nod as you said, “Promise.”

Soon you were in his car and on your way, he still hadn’t eluded to what you were going to do tonight, he did however have much to say about how good you looked and you loved the attention from him. You were sure to make your own thoughts on his appearance crystal clear and he took those compliments graciously, after that he asked if you wanted to know what he had planned and you told him of course you were dying to know. He told you to open the glove box and take a look, you did and fished out an envelope, he encouraged you to open it and you did so, pulling out two tickets and you gasped upon reading them, “Warwick! Are you kidding me?! I thought these were sold out for months! How’d you get your hands on these?”

He was grinning and glanced from the road to you, “Oh I have my ways, certain connections. So I take it you’re excited?”

Excited was an understatement. He managed to score seats to this amazing, professional symphony concert, one you had been simply dying to attend but of course had sold out near instantly, the fact he got his hands on them was astonishing, you knew he wanted to attend but also knew that he had definitely got them mostly for you, if his intention was to impress you then he achieved that.

“So excited! This is amazing, thank you!”

You would have to come up with some way of showing your appreciation and thank him properly. He said that you were welcome and he had been really looking forward to this, but first things first it was time for dinner. He picked the restaurant, naturally, and the dressing up made perfect sense, not just for the symphony but for this too, it was by far the nicest place you had ever been in. He assured you it was his treat and to not worry about how much it would be and you weren’t about to argue, you knew it would be futile so why press the issue. You were looking over the menu and noticed the lack of prices but tried not to let that bother you, he said he had it covered and you trusted him.

Speaking of trusting him you asked for his opinion on what to get and he brightened at that, he had good taste and you made sure he knew that. Once the food arrived asking him was obviously the right call, it tasted fantastic. Spirited conversation started over dinner, you had found your way onto the topic of one of his previous dinner parties, you inquired what the best one he felt ever hosted was.

There was this look on his face, kind of wistful as he recalled it to you, he talked about the food he made and how his usual friends were in attendance and how that dinner party escalated into drinking and dancing, and general revelry, but part of what made made it really special was this one guest who was in attendance. You asked about this guest and the way he talked about him only made you more curious, “His name is John and he is without a doubt the best guest I have had, he made the night so exciting, utterly unforgettable. He had such panache.” Hmm. Good word. You couldn’t help but wonder what made him use it, what made John have such panache.

“Oh don’t tell me all of that. I am already nervous enough for when I finally get invited to one. All of your friends sound so interesting, however am I supposed to measure up?” You pulled your glass up and took a sip, damn the wine he picked was again, fantastic and had the added effect of soothing your nerves just a touch. You were genuinely excited to get to go to one of his dinner parties but everyone he regularly invited seemed so damn put together, you were worried about fitting in, every time it came up you got a little nervous.

“Don’t tell me that little miss serendipity herself is worried about being interesting enough for my friends.” His hand was on yours and you gave a small nod, smiling however, you didn’t admit it but you liked the nickname he had given you based off your first meeting, “Okay, maybe just a little.”

“You have nothing to worry about, I am sure they will be just as smitten with you as I am.”

And that made you smile wider, ‘smitten’ he used the word smitten to describe his feelings for you and it certainly did something to bolster your confidence. The rest of dinner was lovely, conversation had continued and moved on and over dessert, creme brulee, his suggestion, you were looking down at it, “Good choice. Been years since I have had it.”

“One of my personal favorites, why’s it been so long since you have had it?” He asked, spoon coming down and cracking his open in a rather satisfying manner and you figured since he shared earlier you could recount a memory of your own.

“Reminds me of someone no longer in my life. First guy I was ever really into made it for me. I was at this theater camp, working in the kitchen, he was lead cook and I helped, we became friends and then more than that. It happened over the course of one summer and I totally fell for him.” He had his spoon in his mouth as he was listening to you and once you took a pause he removed it, “Sounds like a very lucky guy. What happened then?”

You let out a sigh and a slight shrug of your shoulders, you couldn’t tell him what really happened, so you edited, “Summer ended, so did our little romance, we both left camp and lost touch. Creme brulee always makes me think of him so for the longest time I just didn’t partake in it.”

“Too many memories.” He said and you hummed with a nod and finally brought your own spoon down, splitting the sugary crust and scoop some up, bringing up that first spoonful and when it hit your tongue you couldn’t help your eyes falling closed or the moan you let out around the dessert. “Damn.”

You realized what you said and opened your eyes, looking to him and he gave you a particular look, a small warning, ‘damn’ was a pretty inoffensive curse word but still one all the same and you were at the table. Sharing a meal. You knew better. You bit your bottom lip and knew he wouldn’t do anything here, not out in public like this but you thought you just might end up paying for it later, you did your best to look apologetic and he had his arms crossed on the table in front of him, leaning forward on his forearms as he asked, “Good?”

“Very good.” You admitted, “Don’t know why I waited so long.” Were you talking about the dessert or about being with him? He was smiling wide and with a nod said, “Well eat up then, enjoy it to your heart's content darling.”

You couldn’t say no to that. Seems he was dropping the fact you swore for now and you finished the dessert with gusto. Drinks were finished and he paid and soon you were off again.

It felt good. Being actually out and about with him, on his arm, you felt great about it, felt important and special and more. The seats he managed to get you were pretty damn nice you had to admit. You were so excited for this, nearly thrumming with energy and barely able to believe you were really here and getting to do this, share this experience with him.

It was his hand that pulled you out of your thoughts, starting on your knee and your attention pulled down to look at his hand, his fingers started to trail up your leg, he was leaning over and whispered to you, “I really love this dress on you.” His touch as light as he traced over your skin, dragging up your leg, your eyes glanced up to see his own eyes down, watching as he moved, “The skin it shows is simply divine.”

God the way he said that word, it sounded nearly sinful, you were glad you knew his taste so well already, when you tried it on you knew the slit that ran so high up your thigh would please him. His gaze caught yours and while you were distracted with that his hand didn’t stop, his touch was so bold for being in public, fingertips dipping under the fabric of your dress, he could feel the soft and delicate lace of what you had on underneath. The lights dimmed and it was about to start and your eyes widened and your hand made a move to grab his wrist and he said in a firm tone, “Don’t.”

“Warwick…” It left you rushed and very quietly, trying to beg him quietly to not do this, not here, not now. He leaned in closer to make sure you could hear him and only you could hear him as the music started he told you, “If you didn’t want this then you shouldn’t have said what you did at dinner.”

God.

You knew you were going to pay for it but you didn’t expect to be paying for it so soon or so publicly. It was dark, no one was looking at you and now with the music starting there was no way that anyone could hear you if you made any sounds. But even with all of that, you still didn’t want to do this here. His eyes were still looking into yours, “I’m sorry.” you mouthed to him and he smirked, his fingers moved closer between your legs, another attempt, “Please?” and a small shake of his head told you that no, you were simply going to have to endure this.

He was leaning back comfortably in his chair, his hand still on your thigh, fingers curling over soft flesh, resting so close to your heat, right fucking there, the pressure was apparent. You were sitting back in your own chair, hands on the arm rests of the chair, just anticipating, waiting for it.

You got swept up in it. The music was fucking amazing. You were utterly enraptured listening to it, you actually managed to forget about the threat of what he was going to do for now.

Until he started doing it.

He was unfairly good with his hands. He was still only over your underwear but it felt incredible all the same. The movement wasn’t even intense, it didn’t need to be, he was well aware of how much of an effect it was having on you, the fact of where you were was what was amplifying it. In such a public and fancy setting, the way you were dressed too, looking so fucking proper and put together and here he was, touching you with no one else aware of it even though there were people seated all around you.

His fingers traced over you, fingers slipping over your clit, slow circles with decent pressure, it made your grip the arm rests hard, knuckles nearly white, trying to control your breathing and your face, not giving away what he was doing.

He didn’t touch you through the whole performance. It was on and off and purposeful. You could only hide so much from him, he could feel how much you tensed, the ways your thighs pressed closer together and other small signs, knowing just went back off, hand going back to resting on your thigh.

Your heart was racing, chest rising and falling, breathing harder than you probably should but the music was loud, no way you could be heard, your eyes fell closed and your hips tilted forward slightly, pushing into his hand, trying to get some more contact, it wasn’t dignified but you were desperate, you wanted more. He continued, pressure increased, bottom lip tugged on with your teeth, you were getting so close, he had stopped and started so many times now it didn't take much for you to hit the edge again.

He wasn’t stopping.

You were wondering when, or IF he would stop this time, what his goal was. To rile you up, make you a mess once again in this public setting or to actually do that, take you all the way there and make you cum out in the open. You didn’t think he would do that before but right now he wasn’t slowing at all, and you didn’t want him to.

He pressed on and you got closer still, toes curling in your nicest pair of heels and the intensity of the music rose as did the pleasure inside and you realized that yes, the bastard had every intention of doing that, and he did it with impeccable timing too. As the music hit its crescendo, so did you, you managed to suppress your shaking but unable to stop yourself, you knew no one could hear you, were sure not even he could hear you over the music, even if it was for you and you alone you gasped his name in awe and reverence.

It was entirely unforgettable.

He had given you so much already by bringing you here and giving you this wonderful experience you had wanted so badly and in typical Warwick fashion he found the best way to elevate it, improve upon it and make it something truly unique.

You had barely come down from your orgasm, still heaving when the applause started and his hand was out from between your legs and instead on your arm, you were pulled up on your heels, legs still trembling and eyes opening to see everyone else up, a standing ovation. Your smile broke out as you joined in, clapping and just trying to stay upright, you glanced at him and he looked very pleased with himself and damn right he should, he had a plan and executed it beautifully, you were pretty pleased yourself.

After the excitement had died down and people were beginning to leave you retrieved your clutch from under your chair and when you came back up he had those fingers he used on you in his mouth. You swallowed hard and asked, “Do you want to go back to your place?”

You left pretty giddy and hanging off his arm, excited for the rest of the evening you had ahead. The second you were in the car you playfully smacked his arm with the back of your hand, “I cannot believe you just did that!” “Really? Because I think it totally seems like something I would do.” He teased and you conceded, “Alright, alright-” “Besides I think you loved it.” Your seatbelts we’re done up and he was pulling out of the spot and you teased, “How can you be so sure?”

“I was looking at you.”

What?

His eyes were on the road and yours were on him. He continued, “Everyone else was looking ahead, watching those musicians play and I couldn’t do anything but watch you. I saw every little way it played out on your face and even though I couldn’t hear it, I saw it.” He glanced at you, “You gasped my name. Am I right?”

Fucking hell. You were falling for him way too fucking hard and way too fucking fast. You couldn’t say it, weren’t about to pull a Schmosby and risk ruining all of this, not a chance.

“Yes.”

Is what you said instead and you wanted to do so much and then the realization hit. Why not? Why couldn’t you. What was holding you back? He was so good at it and did it constantly, teased you amazingly and the way you were feeling, how much he had riled you up was totally his fault, he deserved some of his own medicine.

Your hand was on his inner thigh but it didn’t stay there for very long, dragging up and you caught how his grip on the steering wheel tightened, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just focus on the road.”

Easier said than done. You palmed him through his pants and felt him shift under your touch, he kept his eyes forward and you kept yours on him, he was normally so good at playing it cool but you knew what you just did back there got to him too even if he kept his composure outwardly. You wanted to make him break apart, crack the facade, you needed it, you teased him until he felt painfully hard under your touch and you haven’t even gone skin to skin yet.

You leaned in closer to him and asked softly, “You okay Warwick?” He cleared his throat and gave a short nod, “Yes, fine.”

Your other hand joined the first and you started to undo his belt, “Just fine?” A hum from him and you continued, “Well I think we can do a hell of a lot better than just fine.” And once your hand was in his pants, closing around him, grip decently tight you watched his lips part a quiet gasp and you felt power in that moment and it was delicious.

You started to stroke him, slowly, grip tightening and you could see him start to struggle a bit, focusing on the task of driving was a getting more and more difficult and you really shouldn’t be doing this, it was dangerous and stupid but it was just so fun. So enjoyable and you decided to push it even further. Your seatbelt was adjusted and you shifted in your seat, tucking a loose bit of hair behind your ear and leaning down, you were a mere few blocks from his place so he wouldn’t have to endure this for long. You had no intention of finishing him here but you wanted to up the game, try and match this even a little bit with what he did to you earlier. Your tongue left your mouth and licked over his head and you could already taste pre-cum, you must have gotten to him more than you had anticipated, you heard the harsh intake of air above you, a soft groan of your name and you pushed onwards.

You had never actually given road head before and weren’t sure if he had received it but even if he had he still seemed to be really enjoying it, why wouldn’t he though? Of course he did when you did it like that. Even with the off angle you really were giving it your all, and if how tense he felt under you and the way he groaned when you pushed him as deep inside as you could manage was anything to go by he was having a hard time handling it. In a few short minutes of you bobbing up and down his cock, messily sucking and allowing hums and moans around him to slip out, he was unable to stay still, bucking up slowly into your mouth.

You felt him make a turn and believed that was the last turn onto his street, your hand on his inner thigh, squeezing as you decided to really push it. You increased the pace, fucking your mouth on him and the choked moan of your name from him made you press your thighs together again, you were drenched and wanting. You lost yourself in the motion of it, you knew you were good at what you did and took pride in it, as you rightfully should. Soon you felt the car stop, he put it in park and turned it off and you were coming up, mouth wet from the effort of what you did to him and with you so close his hand was on your neck and pulling you to him, his mouth crashing into yours.

So there you were, furiously making out in his car, hands grabbing onto each other, desperate for more, in between kissing and rushed breathing he told you, “You’re terrible, you know that?” That made you laugh, pulling back to speak and instead of giving you space he instead leaned further forward, his hands were on your back and he pulled you closer to him, kissing your neck making that same laugh break off in a moan, “Me? Wha-what about you?”

Your hands went to his shoulders and pushed on him lightly, he pulled back as he repeated the same sentiment of what he said earlier, “Don’t pretend you didn’t love it.”

You couldn’t argue and so you didn’t, hand on the collar of his dress shirt, pulling him closer as you said, “Shut up.” Another deep kiss that he didn’t protest as he tucked himself back into his pants and you needed to get inside already, you shifted your hips and it was a reminder of how soaked you were and you needed to deal with that already. You were surely both looking a little disheveled as you exited the car and made your way up the walkway, not able to keep off of each other, but it was dark and late and who the fuck cares, it felt too good. You did have to actually pause for a moment to allow him to unlock the door, bless him he tried but you were quite the handful at the moment and didn’t make it an easy task. Second the door was open and you were both inside that was rectified, Christ he was a good kisser, dinner was hours ago and you only had a glass of wine but you felt drunk off of him.

After all the build up, the fact that you were now fully alone meant there wasn’t a single thing left standing in the way. You still had so much time, no reason to rush but with how turned on you both were it was impossible to stop, couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. He had this sitting room that was right near the front door, it was a nice room, fireplace, hard wood floors, tastefully decorated but most important for right now, a couch. He was the one to lead you there, you were the one to push him back onto the cushions and straddle him, back to kissing him and the possessive way he returned it made you melt just a little, hands on his jacket, helping him remove it. Jacket is thrown aside and he is loosening his tie and you are reaching back, hands pulling your heels off and letting them drop to the floor and you move your hips forward and back, grinding on him and it makes you finally break your heated kissing, your head falls back with a soft moan. He took advantage of his opportunity. Hands on your waist, grinding up onto you and you responded immediately, hips moving with him, feeling how hard he was and you felt almost painfully empty right now.

“Warwick. Fuck. Pl-please?” You sounded wrecked already, desperate and he loved that he could get you to that point, do that to you. He was feeling a little drunk himself at the moment, looking up at you in the moonlight coming through the window and the way your lipstick had smeared, hair out of place, grinding on him and weakly begging him to ruin you, break you open, so in need you couldn’t wait to get down the hallway to his bedroom or for either of you to fully get your clothes off. “Please?” he repeated and you nodded frantically-

“Please, God, please-” and his grip tightened on your waist and he moved you, soon you were on your back, he was on his knees on the floor. His hands slid down and caught the hem of your dress starting to push it up and you aided him, tugging the bottom of your dress up and as soon as he could see them he took a moment to admire what you had worn just for him before ripping them down your thighs, thrown aside.

The tension was ridiculous, you watched as he removed his belt, dying to get him inside of you already, thankfully the wait wasn’t long until his pants were far enough out of the way, his hands on your hips, tugging you further down the couch. Your legs were spread for him, and he was on top of you, lined up and finally sinking inside of you and the relief made your breath catch before moaning his name. He was seated inside of you, he breathed your name in return and his hands were on your thighs, your legs wrapped around his hips and he started to move. There was this moment, this shared gasp upon him pulling out before driving back in fully, you both felt it, something different about this, electric felt like a fitting word, far better than it had any right to, one of your hands scrambling for purchase on the couch cushion below you.

“Oh my God-” You moaned, eyes closing, his breathing was heavy, your other hand reached up and wrapped around his loosened tie around his neck, tugging on it, pulling him closer, you were practically on fire for him. How into it was really driving him forward, he wanted so much more, to pull every possible sound he could from you, he fucked into you harder and you gave him just what he wanted, rewarded his efforts with those beautifully melodic moans and sweet gasps, rocking with him, legs pulling him closer still. You felt incredible wrapped around him, soaked and so hot, writhing under him, it was too good. You were too fucking good, no way could he last like this but who said this would be the only time this would happen tonight?

Your hand tugged on his tie, leaning up, kissing him again, messy and with tongue, he returned it with equal hunger, a groan into your mouth, you tasted amazing, better than the dinner you shared earlier by a mile. It was getting to be too much for you too, getting close again, you tugged on his tie again, breaking the kiss with a whimper, “Close.” his forehead rested on yours, the only other sound was skin on skin from the pace, how hard he was fucking into you, nearly panting, “Me too-”

“Inside, Warwick pleas-ah!” And you cried out as your second orgasm of the night overtook you, legs locked around him, back arching as he didn’t stop, fucking you through your high and as yours was ending his started and his name was on your tongue as he came inside of you. God it was good, he slowed and finally stopped still buried in you, both of you breathing so hard, you kissed him again, softer, sweeter and let go of his tie, you started to slowly untangle from each other. He pulled out and the excess of the both of you spilled forth, thank God the couch was leather, could be easily wiped off or you were sure you’d be paying for that and not financially.

You spoke first, “You are too good at that.” A light laugh from him, he was sitting up on his knees, finally removing his tie fully as he asked, “There is such a thing as being too good?”

You propped up on your elbows, “There is such a thing as having a mouth that is too smart.” “I can give you that. But you just won’t stop talking.” Again that playful way he said it, before you could retort he was speaking once more, “You better be careful leaving tomorrow by the way.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” You asked and he was smirking, “That way too nosy neighbor of mine caught a pretty good view of us on the way in.” Your hand came up to your face with a groan, “Goddamn it.”

He had leaned over and grabbed a box of tissues so he could clean up the mess on the couch as he said, “You know she wouldn’t be a problem if you had me over to your place.”

Fuck. He was right. Maybe next time you should have him back to yours.

#BHF writing #AYYYY!#I am SO happy with this!#Hope everyone else vibes!#Warwick Wilson #Warwick Wilson X Reader #The Perfect Host (2011)

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sloanerisette · 3 years ago

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Jyoumi Challenge 2021 Day #18: Video Call

I think I’ve done something similar to this before buuuuuuut I have goldfish memory and I can’t help it the long-distance aspect to jyoumi gives me that good angst because I need it. But I can’t just make it all sad so I gotta give it that sweet fluff and honestly I don’t think I’ve had them be all sweet and coupley in a few oneshots so you know what I’m just playing all the hits tonight. Hope y’all enjoy!

---

It had taken three weeks to line this video call up perfectly, working between Joe’s schedule and the time zones, but once they had finally established that they could both be there, all that was left was to wait.

And god, did that week take forever. She already got a bit antsy at school, but it felt like this week dragged on even longer than usual, and even Friday night, which was supposed to be a time of relaxation, was instead a time where all she wanted was for it to be late enough to go to bed. And even when she went to bed, sleep eluded her, as if tomorrow were Christmas morning and she were eager to see what Santa brought.

But frankly, tomorrow being the day she could finally see her boyfriend and talk to him after so long was better than any Christmas gift could be. The next day, even when her and her parents had gone out for breakfast, and when her and her mother spent a little bit of time shopping for some more summer clothes, she had made sure to pay close attention to the time. Nothing was going to mess this up.

By the time the Tachikawa family had gotten home and she and her mother had whipped up dinner, Mimi took her plate to her room as quickly as she could, turning on her laptop to get ready for the video call she was about to have. He would be having breakfast, she would be having dinner, and it would be the closest thing to an actual date they’d probably be able to have for a long time.

And mere minutes after her laptop turned on— 5:02 pm— the video chat program she had started to ring, and without any hesitation she clicked to accept it, lighting up when she saw Joe. She could feel her heart soar, eyes bright, and one of the biggest smiles on her face imaginable. And even with how tired Joe seemed to be, he, too, was ecstatic.

“Hey, sweetie!” she said, before taking a bite of the stir fry she and her mother made, still keeping that smile up all the while.

“Hey, Meems,” he greeted, still smiling, though it seemed like he was still in the process of waking up.

“How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged lightly, taking his chopsticks and tapping on a plate that was out of the view of his camera, “I slept ok. It was a long week, so I think I slept a little better than normal,” he said, pausing to take a bite, “Even better because of what I got to wake up to.”

Normally he was the one to get flustered easily, but she couldn’t stop the blush on her face, burning heavily, and all the while she stared at him with awe and wonder.

“Well I’m glad I can make your morning better.”

Compared to hers, his was a soft, subdued smile, the kind he always wore whenever he so much as looked at her. The kind of smile he had that made her feel safe, secure, loved, and like nothing could ever go wrong.

“How’s your day been?” he asked. She took a bite of her food, holding a hand in front of her mouth while she chewed, before speaking.

“Its been great! We went out to breakfast, did some shopping— oh! I totally gotta show you this sundress I bought! It’s really cute and it has this beautiful baby pink color. Remind me to take a picture to send you!” she said. Joe couldn’t help but chuckle gently at her excitement.

“Oh, and mama and papa say hi!”

“Tell them I say hello,” he nodded, before he finally took a bite of his breakfast.

“I will! What’re you eating by the way?” she asked, leaning closer to the screen and narrowing her eyes to try and get a closer look. Once she could finally catch something of a glance, she pulled back, grinning.

“Lemme guess, salt and pepper because that’s the only way to have eggs?” she asked teasingly. However, when he shook his head, she looked genuinely surprised.

“Wait, really?” she asked, blinking a few times. “Then… what?”

“Cherries and maple syrup,” he said simply.

Once again she blinked, at a loss for words— or at least as at a loss for words that Mimi Tachikawa could be.

“I’m sorry, did you say what I think you just said?” she asked.

“Cherries and maple syrup?”

“You always thought that was disgusting! And now you’re eating it?” she asked. However, at that point, Joe couldn’t hold back his snickers any longer.

“What’s so funny, mister?”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to see how you would react. You were right, it’s just salt and pepper,” he said, holding up the plate for her to see. She pouted.

“Oh, come on, really? I thought you finally developed some good taste!” she said, but Joe looked shocked at her assertion.

“Mimi, it’s maple syrup and cherries on fried eggs, that’s not a good combination!” he said, unable to help but laugh.

“Who’s the food expert, sweetie?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“Look, I will admit that you definitely have more experience with food and cooking, but I just don’t believe it.”

Mimi pouted, taking another bite of food and staying quiet for a moment.

She sighed, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to make some for you the next time I visit? Then you’ll see just how good it is!”

“If you say so, Mimi,” he said, a small, teasing smile on his face, “What’re you eating? Definitely doesn’t look like eggs with maple syrup and cherries.”

Mimi pouted, puffing out her cheeks as she furrowed her brow at him.

“Stir fry me and mama made. And it’s delicious!” she said, taking another forkful and putting it in her mouth to prove the point.

“Hey, I don’t doubt it,” he said, taking another bite before pushing his plate aside, “I know you make good food, even if your taste is somewhat questionable at times.” He offered a small smile before continuing, “How’s New York been, by the way?”

She hummed quietly for a moment. “It’s been nice. I’ve been making plenty of friends and I’m getting more used to the city. My English is getting a lot better, too!” Mimi cleared her throat, “My boyfriend Joe is very cute!”

Joe’s English was pretty limited, but he was still able to put together what she had said enough, to where he quickly turned a deep crimson, swallowing hard.

“I— Um— T-Thanks, Mimi…”

Though he had to avoid looking at her because of how caught off-guard her words had him, he felt a warmth spread through his chest and couldn’t help the goofy smile on his face. It took him a few moments to calm, but that just left Mimi all the more pleased with her words.

“Your English really is good,” he said with an awkward laugh, clearing his throat after to finally fully gather himself. “I’m glad you’re liking the city. It really sounds like your type of place.”

“Yeah?”

Joe nodded, “You always do well in busy environments. I definitely couldn’t handle it there as well as you are.”

“I wish you were here with me, though,” she frowned, “There’s a lot of places I’d really like to show you.” She set her fork down and pushed her food aside, no longer seeming hungry. Joe couldn’t help but frown, the mood of what was supposed to be a nice video call to catch up after a few weeks of brief text messages and emails, but the reminder that they were so far away weighed down heavily.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to figure out getting the money to visit, yeah?”

Though his heart still ached at the thought of being so far away, the thought of that was something that could help drive him forward, too, and he hoped that it might cheer her up a bit.

Just his luck, she did perk up, unable to stop herself from smiling at the words he just spoke.

“Really?”

Joe nodded, “Yeah. I don’t think I would be able to handle a city like that normally, but it would help with you there.”

“Oh, Joe…” she cooed gently, “Don’t worry, I’d make sure to hold your hand so you wouldn’t get too anxious.”

Her teasing voice left him laughing.

“I would like that.”

The two remained silent, before Mimi spoke up.

“What about you?”

“Oh, well, things are ok. Classes have been busy, cram school is still… cram school,” he said with a slight frown, which worried Mimi, “I haven’t been able to see everyone else that much. Entrance exams soon, too.”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging.

“Are you worried about them?”

“Oh, well, of course. But I’ve been putting in a lot of time studying so…” he paused for a beat, “Oh, who am I kidding. I’m doomed.”

Now it was Mimi’s turn to feel her stomach sink for her partner.

“Sweetie…”

“Ah, sorry, Meems,” he said with a sheepish smile, “This is supposed to be the closest thing to a nice date we can have. I shouldn’t be getting us down like this.” But Mimi shook her head.

“Its ok, I was getting a little down, too. But I still have time to sit here with you if you’re good?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I’ve got plenty of time.”

Those words brought a smile to her face, and she leaned forward, resting her head in her hands as she looked at him dreamily.

“Then let’s enjoy our date, yeah?” she asked.

“That sounds good. Honestly, I’d be happy to just… sit here and do nothing with you until I absolutely have to go,” he told her.

“Me, too. And its only Saturday, so I could probably stay up pretty late doing that,” she smiled. He smiled too.

“I love you, Mimi,” he whispered to her.

“I love you too, Joe.”

#jyoumi challenge #jyoumi month #jyoumi challenge 2021 #jyoumi month 2021 #digimon #digimon adventure 02 #jyoumi #joe kido #mimi tachikawa #jou kido #kido jou #jyou kido #kido jyou #tachikawa mimi

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ecccentrick · 4 years ago

Text

Jaskier Should Really Listen to Geralt

Pt. 1 if anyone wants more?

Tw: referenced child death, something that can be construed as becoming noncon, but nothing graphic.

The sun was just sinking when they came across a hamlet. It was so small that it didn’t have a proper name, but big enough to have a notice board that announced grievances and inquiries from all the surrounding civilization.

Geralt went directly towards the said notice board, leading Roach by her reins as the street was too small to safely ride through without trampling one of the villagers. At this point, Jaskier hadn’t a care whether villagers got squashed, his feet ached so. He glared half-hardheartedly at the back of Geralt’s big head, counting the horrid tangles in his hair to pass the time.

"Geralt! This hamlet hasn’t even a true tavern! How am I supposed to make coin if there isn’t even a place to drink?”

Without turning around, Geralt said, “So you admit it?”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose, something he only truly did in Geralt’s presence, since he didn’t want to develop fine lines, nor draw attention to the very few that were already there.

“Admit what?”

“That drink has to loosen pockets for you to get any coin.”

“Ah-wha- G-GERALT!” Jaskier sputtered. So distracted was he, that his boots found a puddle, splashing mud all up his new trousers.

He already hated this cursed town.

Turned out that the hamlet housed more people than previously thought; or at least it had, before the attacks.

“We just don’t know what to do,” cried one villager, her blonde hair coming free from her bun. She looked to be in middle years, despite having been the parent of a small child. But, then again, tragedy aged folks, Jaskier had found.

“Tell me all you can,” Geralt said, for what had to be the third time. The woman was in hysterics, not that anyone could blame her. She had just lost a child.

“Well, we’s find them -- the bodies, sir witcher, that is -- in the roads or the fields. They’s seem unharmed, but for a bite or two, barely any blood around. Like whatever’s come taken their life for sport. We’s almost feel better if they’s been taken for food, so as not much of a waste,” said the alderman, an arm around the grieving woman. It did nothing to console her, her body wracked with sobs. “Wish wha’ever this beast is, it’d spare the youngin’s and take us old folk.”

Jaskier felt a little awkward that he was still there, but they had accosted Geralt before he even had the chance to completely read the notices on the board. So, taking his chance, he sidled up a little closer, trying to hear all the details.

“What did the bodies look like? Have you buried them all?”

The woman wept even harder, but managed to say, “No, our girl was just found this mornin’. You can go -- go have a look. If...If you think it wise, sir witcher.”

Geralt nodded before looking to Jaskier. Well, that was his queue to leave. He didn’t want to see a child’s dead body, anyhow. The poor thing.

Jaskier made himself at home at the only inn in the hamlet. Calling it an inn was generous, as it had two rooms and a cot that could be used in the kitchen. At least it had a few stools and a table in the main room, and served watered down ale.

It felt too somber for him to play anything, so he sat down at the only table and ate dinner, sipping at the surprisingly good ale. He’d have to make sure Geralt had some before they left, which could take some time, apparently. The beast was eluding the witcher, of course, but for the first time that Jaskier can remember, Geralt didn’t know what it was, exactly. He had his suspicions, Jaskier could tell, but he wouldn’t speak of them.

The witcher looked grumpier than usual when he left, with a warning for Jaskier to, under no circumstances, to leave the inn during the night. The beast only attacked at night, and Jaskier was to have zero dalliances that night. Jaskier snorted. If only the witcher knew that there hadn’t been many dalliances of late. And may he never know the reason why.

It was getting late when Jaskier decided he needed to get some sleep, the full moon illuminating the inn so brightly that there was hardly any need for torches and lanterns, when a man sat across from him, two mugs of ale in his hands.

“Care for a drink?” the fellow asked.

Jaskier examined the man. He was around the bard’s age (which shall never be fully confirmed) with bright red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He had a smirk on his face that didn’t quite sit well with Jaskier, but he was attractive enough for him to take the free drink.

“You come with the witcher?” the man asked, taking a sip from his cup.

“I did. I am his bard, the great Jaskier, top graduate of Oxenfurt Academy. Perhaps you’ve heard a few of my songs? A ballad or two?”

The man nodded. “Heard your song about coins and witchers. Mighty catchy. Say, is your witcher truly as noble as you claim?”

Jaskier’s leg began to bounce in excitement. Finally! Someone who wanted to hear his opinions, and about his favorite topic at that!

They talked for a long while, Jaskier catching and hitting all of his queues. The man soon reached across and sat his hand on the bard’s knee, slowly sliding up to his thigh. A zing of another type of excitement went through him, and any rules set upon him flew out the window. Besides, he wouldn't be leaving the inn, so no rules would be broken.

“Want to go upstairs?”

The stranger nodded. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Now. Jaskier is aware that, when it comes to men, he has a type. He can (mostly) admit it. They have to be big, and burly, and able to throw him over their shoulder, or perhaps toss him here and there, just a bit.

The red head didn’t quite fit this standard. He was more on the lithe side, and his hair was cut close to his head. But he smelt clean, was a little taller than Jaskier, and still on the broader side. Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

Jaskier quickly rid himself of his doublet and chemise, neatly folding them on the provided chest. The other man followed his example, and was soon down to his smalls.

Sitting on the bed, Jaskier laid onto his back. “Hm, now how does the handsome man want me?”

The red head smirked, like he enjoyed looking down on the bard. A trickle of trepidation slithered up Jaskier’s spine.

“You sure I won’t be intruding on another man’s property?”

“I’m no one’s property,” Jaskier said, “Least of all Geralt’s. Are we going to get on with it, then, hm?”

The man complied, trailing his large hands down Jaskier’s chest, avoiding his nipples, before resting firmly on his stomach. He stood at the edge of the bed, over Jaskier, and went still. Inhumanly still. He stared straight into the bard’s eyes, eyes preternaturally hungry.

Jaskier fidgeted, making as though to get up. The red head’s hand now felt like steel as he pushed him down, pinning him in place.

Now, Jaskier was not one to kink shame, or shame others in general, but the look in the man’s eyes was not of lust, nor even depraved want. He was looking at Jaskier like he was a five course meal.

“Why is it that you smell so youthful?” the man finally said, breaking the silence.

Jaskier laughed awkwardly, trying not to be flattered in spite of the situation. “I’m forever young at heart, I suppose?”

The man hummed, leaning forward, nosing at Jaskier’s neck. He felt himself getting slightly aroused despite the fact that the way the man lingered was not erotic in the slightest, more akin to trying to find the best place to take the first blissful, sweet bite.

It was then that Jaskier realized that Geralt would not find the monster anywhere under the full moon. It was right there, in the room with him. And it’s next victim was going to be Jaskier.

#geraskier #gerlion #the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #geralt x jaskier #my first geraskier #can you tell im playing w3??

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starrybouquet · 4 years ago

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Dates and Daffodils

Even though she'd been thinking about it for the better part of a day, it was still surreal to have Jack O'Neill standing on her doorstep, dressed in jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a flannel that for once wasn't three sizes too big. One hand held a plastic takeout bag with red lettering, and the other was holding...a bunch of daffodils?

The sequel to Darkness and Dawn, containing the date which I never expected to write, but did, because so many of you asked for it. Enjoy. :D

(see what I did with the title there? XD)

Read on AO3 or under the cut here:

The counters were clear, the dishes done. The coffee table was free of clutter, the books all shelved, the papers stacked. Sam had even cleaned her desk, which she didn't think had happened in at least a year, and dusted the mantel, which hadn't happened in at least three.

And now she was inspecting her living room awkwardly, because she'd changed and couldn't keep stress cleaning because she didn't want to sweat through her clean clothes. Not that they were anything fancy, just a new red top and jeans, but still.

Determinedly, she strode to her dining-room-turned-office and grabbed Physical Review D off the stack of journals beside her laptop. Returning to the living room, she plopped onto the couch and opened to a random page, desperately trying to ignore her thundering heartbeat.

By the time Sam heard the sound of his truck’s engine outside, she had given up on reading journal papers and had progressed to pacing in the entryway, socked feet slipping against the floor. The clock on the wall read 18:00 exactly. Right on time.

When she heard his footfalls on the porch step, Sam couldn’t help herself. She moved to the entry and pulled open the door, not bothering to wait for his knock.

"Car--Sam," he said, and now Sam really had seen everything, because the Colonel--Jack--looked painfully nervous.

And as was always the case with them, as soon as Sam saw his brown eyes fastened anxiously on her face, a wave of calm washed her fears away, leaving only a profound sense of rightness in its wake.

She pulled him inside, smiling, and relieved him of both the daffodils and Chinese food. "The flowers--you didn't have to, you know."

"I know hearts and flowers aren't really your thing," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But you deserve them."

"I love them," Sam assured him. "Come on in--we can eat in the living room?"

Jack took off his shoes and padded into the kitchen and just stood at the counter for a moment, watching Sam put the daffodils in water. He was struck again with amazement that this woman has agreed, of her own volition, to spend time with him. On a date.

He was determined not to muck up the once-in-a-million chance he'd been given. Thus the flowers (daffodils, her favorite), and the clothes that he’d dug out of the back of the closet, the ones his mother had made him buy when she’d visited Colorado Springs a few years ago. JJ, you can’t go around looking like a homeless man. I know you make a perfectly good salary from the Air Force. Use it!

His mother had never met Sam, Cassie, or Janet. Jack was pretty sure he wanted to keep it that way. Although he was sure they’d all get along swell.

Okay, maybe he wanted her to meet them. At least Sam. Just maybe.

It’s only a first date, Jack! Even if it is Carter. You’re getting ahead of yourself. He shook himself from his thoughts. “Can I do anything?”

"You can go ahead and open up the food," Sam said, glancing at him from between the daffodils. "I'll grab the plates and silverware."

"Sure," Jack said, and wandered to the sofa, food in hand. He opened up the cartons on her coffee table and sat down on the sofa uncomfortably. It was far from the first time he'd been in Carter's living room, wasn't even the first time he'd eaten Chinese takeout on the coffee table, even. But it was different, with just him and Carter. He was pretty sure the chances he'd spill something or start convulsing from some alien disease as soon as she walked in the room had increased tenfold since the last time he'd sat on this couch. Because wouldn't that be just his luck?

“How did you know I liked daffodils?” Sam asked as she entered the room, plates and napkins in hand.

Jack squirmed. “You, uh, mentioned it when we set up the observatory on that moon last year.” He gave her an embarrassed glance.

Sam smiled but didn’t say anything, just sat down to his left and reached for the chow mein.

Maybe he hadn’t messed this up yet? “So...how’s the Indian?”

It took some time, but by the time the Chinese was finished, Sam and Jack were talking and laughing just like they did in the commissary or her lab or offworld.

It was almost like the night watches, where they sat up together on some deserted planet. The only difference was that they weren’t being so careful not to touch anymore. In fact, at some point during dinner Sam’s hand wormed its way into Jack’s, and then Jack had interlaced their fingers and tugged her hand into his lap, where he was now fidgeting with her fingers as he leaned back against the couch.

“I still can’t believe you drank that stuff,” Sam said as she stacked the dishes on the coffee table with her other hand. “I’d have thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

“Well, I did.” Jack smirked. “Don’t worry, that mission to P3X-595 is still very clear in my memory. How could I ever forget the part where--”

“Jack!” she scolded, abandoning the dishes in favor of reaching across her body to slug him in the arm. Sam glared until she couldn’t hold in the laughter anymore, and then she broke down giggling into his shoulder. He slid an arm around her waist and she leaned into him, still giggling.

When the laughter subsided, Sam looked up to find Jack with a delighted, pleased grin on his face. She’d never seen that particular look before. “What?”

“You called me Jack,” he said happily. And then, because he couldn’t help it, he kissed her.

It was light and sweet and tender, and Sam kissed him back in the same manner, reveling in the freedom of being able to do this with Jack O’Neill. To hold hands with him, have dinner with him, kiss him.

Gradually, Jack pulled back, until he was just brushing her lips with his. Sam rested her head on his shoulder again, and Jack tilted his head against hers, nuzzling the golden silk of her hair. They sat quietly for a while, each taking in the ability to just be together.

“I should clear the table,” Sam said eventually.

“I’ll help,” Jack said, releasing her hand and disentangling his arm from around her waist.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insisted, and Sam didn’t argue. They worked just as well together at home as in the field, with Sam depositing the dishes in the sink and Jack putting the leftovers in the refrigerator.

When they bumped into each other in front of the sink, it was Sam who stretched up to kiss him. She tasted like chow mein and General’s chicken and that same indefinable Sam he remembered from the incident with the Touched, and Jack resisted the urge to press her against the counter and take this a lot further a lot faster. He pulled away and Sam chased his lips, making a tiny whimper in the back of her throat that came perilously close to shattering his resolve.

"Carter. As much as I’d love to continue this, I should probably go," he said huskily. "We've got an 0900 briefing tomorrow."

Sam looked up at him. Her eyes were a shade darker than usual and Jack instantly knew that was his new favorite color. “You think we should wait,” she said, understanding what he wasn’t saying perfectly, as always. He nodded abashedly and opened his mouth, but Sam shook her head. “No, don’t apologize. I agree with you.”

She took his hand and led him to the entryway. "We should do this again sometime, though.”

When Jack turned back to her with a helpless little-boy grin on his face, she couldn't help but smile. "Yeah?"

"Definitely."

"Sweet."

They beamed at each other for a beat before Jack busied himself with his shoes.

"Sam," he said quietly before opening the door. "I had a great time tonight."

She looked up at him, taller than usual with his shoes on and her in socks. “Me too. The best.”

Jack nodded seriously, and then turned to leave. As he reached for the door handle, his hand paused, as if he wanted to say something else, and part of her begged silently for him to stop, turn around, and walk her back into the house. But the moment passed, and he stepped out into the night. Sam waved as he got into his truck and then closed the door, refusing to watch his taillights disappear into the night like some lovesick fool.

Her house felt lonely without Jack there on her couch, slurping his noodles and making her laugh. Not a whole lot quieter, in reality, but more empty. In her head, she knew it was no emptier than it had been that afternoon. She’d lived here by herself for seven years, after all. Still, she couldn’t help but feel cold without Jack there beside her.

There wasn’t anything she could do about it. Finally, after all these years of next to nothing, they finally had permission. That in and of itself was a miracle. And so they’d both agreed they needed to take it slow, not mess this up, because what would happen if it didn’t work out?

Sleep eluded her that night, but it wasn't until past midnight that the idea hit her.

Make your own destiny. That was the creed by which they lived at the SGC, and SG-1 followed it better than anyone. Her career and her love life--she was living two incompatible philosophies. Both of them willingly fought impossible battles against the Goa’uld daily. Why couldn’t they fight just as hard to make them--Sam and Jack--work? At least for her, Sam realized, it wasn’t a choice. She’d been in love with Jack O’Neill for at least six years, if not longer, despite everything that had happened between them. She’d fight like hell to make them work, had to, in fact because this was her only chance. Being with anyone else just wasn’t an option.

She grabbed an extra set of BDUs out of her closet, shoved her feet into her combat boots, and just about ran to her car, heedless of the fact that she was wearing pajamas.

In under ten minutes, she was knocking at Jack's door, overnight bag in hand.

A sleepy Jack O'Neill opened the door, still wearing the same gray t-shirt but having switched his jeans for sweatpants.

"Carter?" he asked, confusion scrunching his features.

"Sam," she corrected, stepping over the threshold and into the warmth of his home. "I know we said we should wait. But it's been years, and that was the best date I've ever had, ever, not because it was fancy, it wasn’t, but because it was you. And it's allowed, and I know we can make this”--she gestured between them--”work. If we both want it, which I think we do. So I don't want to waste another day, Jack. Can--" She paused, moved her bag in front of her protectively, suddenly irrationally worried she'd misread the entire situation. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Jack's eyes had cleared quickly, and it looked like he hadn’t missed anything. He closed the door behind Sam and turned back to her.

Carefully, he cradled her face in his hands and leaned forward. "Of course I want this, Sam. This is the best idea you've ever had," Jack whispered just before he kissed her.

Though it started out tender, a gentle meeting of lips, the kiss quickly became passionate. Sam dropped her bag to the floor and pulled Jack closer by the waist of his jeans as he ducked his head to taste the skin of her neck. And oh, this had definitely been the right idea. They stumbled against the wall blindly, barely managing to avoid tripping over the bag sitting haphazardly in Jack's entryway, and then Jack pushed a thigh between her legs, making her gasp and wrap her legs around him, and oh God all she wanted was more more more more.

Sam whimpered as Jack pulled back, chest heaving, and tried to tug him back down to her lips, certain she'd die if he stopped now.

"Sam," he gasped. "I just want to check. Are you absolutely sure? Because I'm gonna have a hard time going back after this, and--"

"I'm sure," she interrupted, smiling at his sweetness in spite of everything. "Jack, I'm not gonna change my mind."

"Okay." And with that, Sam found her legs kicking air.

It was a long time before she came back down.

Sam awoke with Jack's arms wrapped around her and his warm brown eyes watching her face carefully. They were still lying skin-to-skin, legs tangled together. The outside world was asleep--curtains drawn, lights out--and orange streaks were only beginning to paint the sky, but both Sam and Jack were used to waking up with the sun.

"Hey," he whispered, stroking a hand through her hair.

She smiled sleepily. "Hey."

"I forgot to say something last night," Jack said matter-of-factly.

"Oh?"

"I love you, Samantha Carter."

She buried her head in his chest and blinked happy tears onto his skin. "Love you too."

Jack's arms tightened, and he tried to soak in the moment, remember every bit of it. With her hair tousled, creamy skin against the white sheets, Sam looked just as beautiful as he'd always imagined--which he had, more times than he'd likely admit. More so, because she was real and here, all of her. Faded scars along her shoulder, the imprint of a pillow on one cheek, and that sparkle in her eyes. It'd been a long time since he remembered being this peaceful--since Charlie, maybe. Or even before.

But he never was good at verbalizing all that stuff.

"Carter," he started, eyes begging her to understand everything he didn’t know how to say. "As far as I'm concerned, you can stay here as often as you'd like."

At Jack’s words, Sam felt something click into place, the same part of her that had calmed when he arrived at her house yesterday evening. It was as if she'd been adrift for years, and finally docked back in the port she'd called home.

No, that wasn't right. Jack would never, ever tie her down. It was more like she was a planet that had finally settled into a stable orbit around its star--she’d found something--someone--to center her, stabilize her when she wobbled along her path.

Later, she'd describe the metaphor to Jack, and he would indulge in his characteristic affectionate teasing of her geeky side before extending the metaphor in ways that had her giggling. But now wasn't the time for that. Now, Sam looked at Jack, only inches away, and her heart tightened with love.

"Jack?" Sam said quietly, looking up at him again, blue eyes luminous.

“Yeah?”

"Can I stay here forever?" Her eyes searched his, shy and hopeful.

Jack hugged her even tighter, pulling her head to the crook of his neck, and it was his turn to blink the tears away. "Sam. I would love nothing more."

Outside, the sun rose, painting over the sky with pinks and oranges. But in Jack's mind, it was nothing compared to the sun in Sam's smile.

That smile was his world, and now that he had it, he was never letting anyone take it away.

The Goa’uld wouldn’t know what hit them.

#my fic #sam x jack #stargate sg1 #sg1 #my blogstuffs

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years ago

Text

The King’s Dumu Lugal (Hakuno, Caster Gilgamesh, Gudako)

A king was only as good as his kingdom and the management of his world therein.

A great king could understand the pieces on the board before him. He could understand how people were and what motivated them. He could understand what he needed to do and how he needed to proceed to build up the walls around himself. He knew when to be lenient. He knew when to push someone forward.

Kings could push through pet peeves. He could find the way to work around any flaws he possessed.

“My king.”

Caster paused from the screens before him, glancing back at the woman nearby.

Ah, his saving grace.

She had singlehandedly applied a Sumerian dictionary to the computer system, making all of this possible. She had spent hours upon hours on this system, building it up bit by bit until he had found that he could enjoy the full benefits of the Chaldean computers through a Sumerian filter. In return, Gudako and the others could see the work he did and make use of his decisions.

His chestnut-haired savior. His whiskey eyed genius.

Even more astounding to him was the fact that she had asked for nothing in return.

He had gone to her chambers, knocking upon her door and finding it only opening enough to let him see the large sitting room a bit and the hallways that went further back from this door. She had looked up at him and told him that servants were not permitted in her space when he asked to enter.

When he offered to return her great deeds, she’d told him she merely wanted to have the opportunity to help him.

“Then I shall have you remain at my side.”

She remained…

“I brought dinner for you,” she told him, holding up the soup and the vegetables that rested upon the tray she held.

“Are you going to keep me company this evening?”

He’d noticed that she would gaze upon him at times. He was no fool. Those brown eyes would linger on him for several moments when he was working. She would fidget with her hands at other times. Sometimes, he would even see her bite her lip or have her gaze turn so somber.

What is it that you think about when you look at me?

He desired greatly the chance to ask such a question, but she eluded him. They may have been alone, but the work he did with fine tuning Chaldea and improving the technologies with the aid of Da Vinci took precedence over his opportunities to speak to Hakuno.

That and-

“I have things to attend to.”

She often had things to attend to, he had noted. While she would linger near him, remain at his side and coax him into a few minutes of sleep to keep death from his door; she would always have to leave him. It was troublesome to hear time and time again.

There she turned though, after setting down his tray. The skirts of her dress were sashaying around her hips, her hair swaying here and there as she went.

It reminded him of his dream the other night.

Caster closed his eyes, turning his attention back to his food after she left him.

The help was much appreciated.

He would denounce her for her efforts to assist him. He wouldn’t criticize her efforts to remain both helpful and distance.

It was different from Siduri though.

Siduri had a natural distance between them. She had made her intent clear and she held no airs about her that said that she wished to close the distance between them.

Hakuno…

Hakuno had all those airs.

She had those thick lashes that she could look over at him from underneath. She had those sweet lips that moved in a way that beckoned his eyes. She had that collarbone, bereft of all markings, begging for his lips to cover in bitemarks and bruises.

When she would reach around him, all he could see were dainty hands that would look remarkably fragile to his eyes.

His hands in return would feel inclined to reach forward to grab her. His mind will fill with the images of stripping the dresses from her body. He longed to press her to his desk and undo the zipper of her dress with his hands of his mouth. He longed to kiss every inch that that dress revealed to his eyes.

But he was a king and a man of incredible restraint. He held himself back… despite the glimmer in her eyes that said he could go ahead. He stopped himself despite the way her body seemed to lean closer and closer to him.

He couldn’t eat tonight.

Why is her area of the facility off limits?

Why did she know Sumerian?

Why did he find himself thinking about her so often?

Gudako had given him no help, but her gaze put him into a mental spin as well. At his few questions he’d thought to ask, the woman had hesitated. She’d looked to Mash and quickly patched together tangent after tangent.

He moved from his desk, thinking about this more.

It was high time for some answers. He wanted to know what it was that made Hakuno so mysterious. He wanted to know the truth.

No more somber looks.

No more subject changes.

“I’ll be with Ur if you need me,” the woman could be heard saying to Gudako now.

Gilgamesh found himself pausing, pressing against the wall at the corner of the hallway adjoining the one the two women were in.

“I’ll pick up the tray in a bit,” Gudako promised.

He waited, watching Hakuno walk passed him, heading for her private part of the facility. He looked back, seeing Gudako looking towards the outdoors.

Ur?

Caster moved up behind his master, leaning in close as the woman enjoyed her pretty outdoor view.

“Who is Ur?”

The redhead paused, shivering a second before she spun around.

“Caster,” the woman dared to exclaim.

No, that wasn’t what he had asked. He moved to his full height, looking down his nose at her.

“Ur?”

Gudako hesitated.

“Who is Ur, Gudako?” he asked once more, softly.

She was incredibly lucky.

Despite his displeasure at repeating himself, he had now asked thrice about who this Ur was. She needed to stop wasting his time and begin to tell him what was going on.

“Ur is… well… He’s someone precious to Hakuno,” Gudako answered, albeit reluctantly. “…Has she still not told you about him?”

“Why would Hakuno need to tell me about him?”

“Because he’s your… Never mind.”

No, that was not an acceptable answer. He went to push the subject, but Mash called for her, joined by Ozymandias and Francis Drake.

Riders.

He pulled back, allowing the woman to escape him.

Hakuno would be letting Gudako come get the tray she had been carrying.

He could go himself to get it.

There were no other thoughts on his mind other than to invade her space. He could seek reconciliation after he had transgressed.

The door was unlocked for once.

Not that I come here often.

He slipped the door open, closing it quietly behind himself.

The room was more opulent than he had first thought. The rich golden and crimson banners showing lions and riches hung high on the walls. The furs and blankets adorning the couches and on the floor with wood blocks and hand sewn dolls were rather interesting.

Why would she have such childish toys here?

He settled onto the blanket, looking at the dolls.

They showed improving sewing technique, the careful stitching and repairing efforts showing on a few of the dolls.

What was this?

“Aaaabum.”

Gilgamesh paused at the sound of the voice nearby. He looked up, turning his gaze away from the toys to look at the small figure crawling to sit near him.

The red robes around his shoulders were adorned with golden thread and black accent. The golden hair gleamed proudly from the top of his head.

Those red eyes looked up at him excitedly, his ‘oof’ of a sound accompanied by his waving his hands for him as he sat close to him.

“Ah-bum!”

Caster could feel the reels and gears of his mind coming to a halt. He could feel his heart hammering away in his chest as he looked down at the young boy.

“Abum!”

More hand waving, the boy was intent on this.

Caster glanced at the hallway a moment before he moved a bit closer.

He leaned in close, brushing a hand through that head of blond hair and tilting that head up to look at him more.

The boy was small, perhaps three or four?

No, he was too small.

Maybe younger?

“Ur!” Hakuno’s voice was calling loudly for him. “Ur! It’s almost time for your bath! Come here!”

The toddler didn’t pay any heed to that, instead climbing onto his lap and sighing happily.

This was her secret? This was why no one is permitted in her chambers and why she vanishes so often?

It would make remarkable sense why she would leave him so often now. A youth needed time with their parents. They would need to have time to become accustomed to talking and walking. They needed guidance and entertainment.

As he looked down at the boy again, he could see him grab one of the dolls and begin chewing on its leg. Those red eyes looked up at him, glimmering as though looking up at the sun itself.

Who is his father?

Who… what a ludicrous joke to ask.

The room was adorned in Sumerian culture. His people’s teachings were all over this room from the tablets to the treated furs and blankets. The boy himself was adorned in Sumerian clothing. He bore a name that was like that of his time and people.

A poor city name choice, sure, but it still remained that he had a name that one of his people would bear if he had been born in their time.

What’s more, he bore a hair color of gold that no other could manage. He bore red eyes that looked like that of a snake, or the more divine of people in the universe. His mana was young and weak, but only because he had not begun using his magic quite yet. He possessed mana of the old world, not of this time and age’s mages.

And he called me Abum.

Caster leaned in close, pulling a spare fabric from his gates.

“Hello, my dumu lugal.”

His child prince, he had called him. Was that not what he was?

“Ur!”

Hakuno was still calling for him as Ur pressed his face against him and closed his eyes happily. There was a bit of food still on his face. Caster wiped at it lightly as he leaned against the couch nearby and watched the boy settling in to rest.

“Ur! Where are you? Ur!”

Running could be heard. He could hear the doors being pushed open nearby, but he didn’t dare move with his son resting on his lap.

His hand brushed through that mess of blond hair. His head leaned back against the couch a bit as he looked down at the child.

“Ur! Ur, this isn’t fair to ummum, where-“

Hakuno paused, coming into view.

Her robe was wrapped around herself haphazardly. Her hair was loose and hanging around her shoulders. At the sight of him, she froze, eyes widening.

“I came to speak with you, but it seems my son felt more suited to greet me,” Caster murmured to her gently. “Would you care to have a seat? There’s much for us to discuss with one another.”

For example, how he’d manage to bear a son with her.

#drabble #drabbles

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mathmusicred · 4 years ago

Text

Recovery Part 1 of 2

I wrote my first proper Redwall fanfic this week. Let me know what you think! (also this is not beta read, so if you have any feedback, please let me know!)

~2k words

Inspired by this fic by scrivenerofmossflower

AO3 link

Martin did his best to pay attention as Gonff chattered enthusiastically at his bedside. He still had a host of wounds that were fresh and painful, sucking his energy faster than a hare running late for dinner, and it wasn’t unusual for the pain to flare unexpectedly either. When Gonff made him laugh, Martin was soon weeping from the pain—who knew it took so many muscles to laugh? He was propped up on his side since his back was a horrific mess, and that was where the pain was now.

“Ah, ‘m sorry about that, matey,” Gonff apologized, his chubby little face drawn in concern. “Tsarmina really did a number on you, didn’t she?”

Martin grunted in acknowledgement and closed his eyes. “Keep talking, Gonff,” he whispered, moving his face as little as possible to avoid aggravating the scabbed gashes there. “Helps keep my mind off it.”

Gonff’s ears twitched in agitation. “Are y’sure, mate? Germaine and Columbine said to give you a draught of this ‘ere concoction if you’re in pain,” he said, reaching for a bottle of dark green sludge.

With great effort, his back screaming from even the brief movement, Martin reached out and grasped Gonff’s paw. “Please, matey. Tell me about Goody’s pies.”

There was a beat of clear hesitation, in which there was some silent communication—Martin did not like the mind-numbing medicine, even if it did relieve his pain, and Gonff would humor him, for now.

So Gonff spoke of the wide variety of pies he had tasted (and stolen), both from Goody and from other creatures. While he debated upon his list of favorites, he watched Martin bite back groans as the pain came and went like the ebbing of the tide. During a particularly bad spike, Gonff paused his rambling and reached for the bottle.

Again, Martin snatched his paw and shook his head. “The cleanup—!” he gasped in a tight voice, then took a deep breath as the pain seemed to die back down. “Tell me about the cleanup after Kotir was flooded.”

Keeping hold of Martin’s paw, Gonff set it back on his friend’s chest, and Martin flinched and grit his teeth at the motion. Gonff shook his head. “You are in pain, Martin. It’s time for your meds.”

For a moment, Martin glared at Gonff with a fierce light in his eyes, his grip on the mousethief’s paw turning into a vice, but when Gonff gasped at the unexpected crushing of his paw, Martin released him and visibly wilted.

“’m sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean t’ hurt you, Gonff.”

Gonff just shook his paw out and chuckled. “I think I’m used to it by now, you warrior. Even when you’re laid flat, you still don’ know your own strength.” He measured out a portion of the medicine into a beaker the way Columbine had showed him and helped Martin take the draught, laughing at the way Martin’s face screwed up. “Here mate, take a candied chestnut—a little sweetness will clear up the taste.”

Martin munched on the gifted nut gratefully. He noticed Gonff pop a few nuts himself and smiled wryly at him. Gonff caught his eye and winked. “Better you than me, matey. Just the smell o’ that stuff is enough to give me nightmares!”

The medicine was fast-acting, and Martin could feel his pain ebbing further and further away by the second. He sighed unconsciously in relief. If Gonff noticed, he didn’t mention it, just hummed a little tune to himself and tapped his paw rhythmically on the table by Martin’s bed.

“I’d still like to hear how the cleanup went,” Martin said. “How were the vermin dealt with?”

Gonff was sure he had told Martin the full story of the fall of Kotir already, but Martin’s memory had been . . . spotty, of late. “Oh, them? We fished ‘em out of the lake and gave ‘em a dressing down, y’might say. Everybeast was given a pack of food and sent on their merry way,” Gonff said. “Those hares of ours ‘ave set up a patrol to watch out for ‘em, but we’ve not seen a single whisker of ‘em since.”

Martin nodded slowly. “Good. No . . . no pointless bloodshed . . . that’s good . . . .” he murmured, eyelids drooping.

Gonff began singing a gentle little ditty, which transitioned smoothly into a lullaby. Had Martin been stronger, he would have rolled his eyes and stayed awake out of pure stubbornness, but as it was, he slid easily into a deep sleep.

Gonff stayed at his side, deep in thought. Sleep did not come to the little mousethief as easily as it once had. He struggled with nightmares about swans, waterfalls, and fighting searats on a dark, sandy beach. He and Dinny talked about it sometimes, but Dinny’s own nightmares had faded within a few weeks. Gonff’s hadn’t.

Despite the violence of the battles, the grim horror of rescuing a slave ship, and the various other perils he had faced, Gonff’s most recurring nightmares centered on his friend Martin. Of Gonff watching him get cut down in battle on that moonless seashore. Of Gonff finding him too late by the lake. Or sometimes, of Martin bearing down on him with his mighty sword and that terrible red sheen in his eyes. Just thinking about it sent a shudder through the mousethief.

Gonff shook his head and balled his paws into fists. Martin would never hurt him. Even when he was in agony himself just now, he had apologized immediately for simple squeezing Gonff’s paw too hard.

That fear was easy to chase away.

The fear of loss, less so.

Columbine came looking for her husband and found him half slouched onto Martin’s bed, one paw grasping his friend’s paw and the other cushioning his chubby little face, finally sleeping peacefully. Columbine smiled, kissed Gonff’s forehead, and quietly went about her work. She changed Martin’s bandages and put fresh herbs and poultices on his wounds with experienced care. It must have been several hours since Martin had taken his medicine, however, because he came awake with a moan halfway through her ministrations.

“Who . . . nngh,” he grunted, quickly giving up trying to twist around to see who was working on his back.

“It’s just me, Martin,” Columbine murmured soothingly. “Go back to sleep, if you can.”

Martin just shook his head, shoulders quivering under Columbine’s paws.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she sighed. She worked as quickly as she could, and Martin remained silent until she had finished and walked around the bed so he could see her.

His scabbed face was creased in pain and confusion. “Where am I?” he whispered.

Columbine blinked, but it wasn’t the first time Martin had forgotten. “You’re in Brockhall, Martin. Do you remember who I am?”

His bemused expression deepened. “. . . Gonff’s wife, you’re . . . C-Const—er, no, Corn, no, no Coll . . .” Martin paused and stretched out each syllable, as if he were twisting a stem out of an apple of his memory. “Cooolluuummbine, yes, Columbine!”

A bit of a rocky start, perhaps, but this was better than some of his previous episodes so far—once he’d even forgot Gonff, though it had proved to be a singular occurrence. This time, he even kept his voice lowered so he wouldn’t wake the poor mousethief, who was still holding onto his paw even as he slept.

��That’s right, Martin. Do you remember how you were injured?” Columbine asked.

After a brief pause, Martin wordlessly shook his head.

Columbine nodded, unsurprised. “You fought with Tsarmina the Wildcat. You won, but you have many terrible wounds from her claws, particularly on your back.”

Martin nodded. “Aye. That’s where it hurts the most.” He looked around, taking in the room as if for the first time, and visibly relaxed when he saw his sword propped up against the table beside his bed. Previous experience had taught the healers that he was much more cooperative during these bouts of amnesia if his weapon was within sight.

“Are you hungry, Martin?” Columbine asked, recalling his attention to herself.

He smiled sheepishly. “Famished.”

“I’ll bring you a tray from the kitchen,” Columbine said, heading out the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Martin watched her go and then laid there in contemplative silence. Vague memories swirled around in his mind, mostly of battles he had fought, and of Gonff and Columbine. There were other creatures, too, but he could only recall the names and faces that were connected to those two. Dinny was a mole who was also Gonff’s friend, and the three of them been on a long journey together. The Stickle hedgehogs, two parents and four children, were Gonff’s adopted family. Columbine had a mentor named Abbess Germaine, who was the primary healer that had saved Martin’s life. The identity of the other creatures in his mind eluded him.

Columbine returned shortly with a platter bearing a small loaf of hardy nutbread, vegetable soup, soft white cheese, elderberry cordial, and a thick slice of strawberry cream cake. Gonff’s nose twitched and his eyes flew open in an instant. “Phaw, somethin’ in ‘ere smells heavenly!”

Columbine and Martin laughed (Martin only briefly) and Columbine set the tray on the table. “Don’t worry, O husband of mine, there’s plenty enough here for the both of you.”

Gonff jumped to his feet and swept Columbine up in his arms, crying, “O, what a beautiful creature you are, me darling wife, to have remembered your poor husband and spared him a crust o’ bread from your kitchen!”

Giggling, Columbine pushed Gonff back towards Martin. “Oh hush, you great flatterer. I’m putting you in charge of making sure our great warrior eats his share. Think you can do it?”

“I doubt I’ll need help,” Martin said, already tearing into the bread loaf, but no one paid him any mind.

Gonff bowed elegantly. “For you, my dearest flower, I shall be most diligent. This warrior of ours shall eat til he bursts!”

With another laugh and shake of her head, Columbine stepped out of the room.

The moment she was gone, Gonff snatched the bread loaf from Martin’s paws and tore it in half. “Steady on there, Martin, you wouldn’t leave your old matey to starve to death would ye? Of course not! I knew you were a goodbeast, back from the first moment I clapped eyes on ye! Here, now, take your half. Have you ever tried dipping your bread in the soup? Makes ‘em both taste better, I promise. Here now, give it a go.”

They ate and joked and laughed, Gonff making ridiculous excuses to hold Martin’s plates and bowls for him. "Hold up, mate, this is a wooden bowl. Wouldn't want you t'get splinters in those great frogslapper paws of yores.” Martin reached for a spoon, but Gonff held it out of reach. "Nope, sorry mate, this is one of Goody's favorite spoons. Wouldn't want you to crush it. That would cause a terrible fuss—nothing but tears, tears, tears everywhere."

When every last speck and crumb was gone, they each sat back and nursed their beakers of cordial.

Martin rubbed his bulging stomach. “I haven’t felt this full in a while. I’ll have to thank Corn—er, C-Columbine when she gets back.”

Gonff gave Martin a knowing look. “Struggling with names today, matey?”

“Aye,” Martin sighed, looking down at his cup. Ripples from his shaking paw broke up the dark liquid’s surface. “I suppose I’m simply growing old before my time.”

“Nonsense,” Gonff said firmly. “Once you’re all healed up, you’ll be runnin’ around like a young ‘un again, no question.”

Martin sighed and drained the last of his cordial. “I hope so, Gonff. I really, really hope so.”

Gonff took Martin’s empty beaker and tapped him on the nose with it. “You will. So stop worrying about it and tell me how much you remember about our adventure to Salamandastron. Gotta make sure we keep the facts straight, after all. Who knows how many fibs Dinny would spin up if we aren’t keeping him in line with the facts!”

“If anyone’s telling fibs, it’ll be you,” Martin snorted. “Dinny is the noblest creature I have ever met. Keep that in mind when you’re tempted to lead me astray with your tall tales—I know I don’t remember much, but I do remember Dinny’s face when he found out you’d convinced me that we’d taught a flock of pink toadstools how to fly. He was so angry, he nearly turned pink himself.”

Gonff grinned blissfully. “Aye, that was a good day. You were as gullible as a newborn babe for a while there.”

They continued to joke and laugh, and eventually they walked through step by step of their entire history together. It was a familiar exercise by now, but a welcome one all the same.

#mathmusicred writes #fic #martin #gonff #columbine #heavily inspired by #scrivenerofmossflower #fear the reaper #which is a fantastic piece

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warriorofdragons · 5 years ago

Text

Light in the Dark Chapter 14: The First of Many

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Emotional/Verbal Abuse Only

This is a lemón ;)

Note: {Övüsi is in these brackets}

“I have no idea what to wear,” you say as you rummage through your closet.

“Haven’t you worn a bunch of fancy things in the elven district before?” Hernández questions.

“Yeah, but those were mostly ‘elf’ clothes, and I don’t want to wear something like that on my first date with Kandomere,” you explain.

Hernández hums on the other end of the phone.

“I think the clothes you wear to work are pretty cute,” McTavish says.

“Really?” you ask.

“Of course,” McTavish replies.

You bite your lip and scan your closet once more, “I do have a couple of dresses that might work.”

“Ooh! Send us a pic,” Hernández says.

You take a few of your dresses out of the closet and lay them out on the bed and then take photos of them to send to both of them.

And then you wait for their response.

“Hmm, that blue one is really pretty,” Hernández muses.

“Yeah, but it’s really more of a sundress,” you say.

Hernández exhales, “I don’t know a lot about dresses, that’s more my girlfriend’s thing.”

“The pink one,” McTavish says.

You pick up the pink, floral lace dress and stare at it, “It is more of a dinner date dress…”

“I’m gonna go with Gwen on this one, it does look fancy,” Hernández says.

“Alright, pink one it is,” you say setting it aside on the bed and then you glance back at your closet, “But what shoes should I wear with it?”

*******

He walks through the moonlit garden of his family’s estate and away from the loud music and laughter coming from the manor. He rounds a corner on the pathway and that’s when he spots a familiar figure sitting on a bench near the fountain.

“It’s a lovely night,” he says announcing his presence so he does not startle her.

She gasps nonetheless and turns her head in his direction, “Oh…yes it is,” she agrees.

He smiles and approaches her.

She watches him curiously, her brown eyes fixed on him.

“May I?” he asks gesturing to the spot beside her.

“Of course,” she says and moves further from him and adjusts her long lavender dress so that he may sit down next to her.

He seats himself and watches as she tucks a lock of her curly hair behind a perfectly rounded ear.

“I don’t believe I caught your name earlier, My Lady,” he says.

She glances at him shyly, “Rose,” she answers softly.

“Well, Rose, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he says offering his hand.

She gingerly takes it and he lifts her hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, and Lönathar is pleased to see her cheeks flush.

“You are an excellent dancer,” he says still holding her hand.

She looks to his hand and then looks away, “You flatter me.”

“But it is true,” he says.

She turns back to him and her eyes meet his and then move to his hand once more.

Such a lingering gesture is uncouth among elves, but he finds himself unwilling to break the contact.

“I have not had the chance to explore the garden, perhaps you could show me around?” she asks meeting his gaze.

He nods and smiles at her and then stands and releases her hand only to offer her his arm instead, “Shall we?”

She smiles and slips her hand into the crook of his arm.

They walk for some time as he escorts her through the garden and she seems enamored by all the beautiful flowers grown here. And all the while he explains to her the history of the grounds and shares a glimpse into his own family’s history. Until he finally brings her to the rose bushes his grandmother had planted here.

She gasps and breaks away from him to admire them all, “There are so many colors,” she says gently lifting up a pink rose.

He steps over to her, “I thought you might enjoy them,” he says softly.

He admires her for a moment in her excitement and also admires how the lavender dress and shawl she is wearing compliment her much darker skintone.

She turns to him and smiles and then leans towards the rose and inhales the sweet scent and sighs to herself before letting it go, “Roses are my mother’s favorite.”

“I would never have guessed,” he says coyly and grasps the rose she had been admiring and plucks it free and hands it to her.

She smiles at him and accepts it and then brings it to her lips as her eyes drift up to him. Lönathar feels his pulse quicken under her gaze and for a moment, all manner of his upbringing is lost to him. The woman turns to glance at the roses again and reaches out for another and carefully plucks it and turns to him.

He stares at her curiously as she steps close.

“May I?” she asks holding it out to him.

He nods even though he is still uncertain of what she means to do, words still managing to elude him while he is under her soft gaze.

She takes the rose and tucks it gingerly into the top pocket of his coat and then adjusts the flower so that the petals face outwards.

He smiles at her and she returns it.

“Shall I finish the tour?” he asks softly remembering his manners finally.

“Yes, please,” she whispers taking his arm again.

He leads her through the rest of the garden until he ends the tour on a small wooden bridge over a stream. They both stop and stare at the rippling reflection of the crescent moon across the water’s surface.

The evening is drawing to an end and Lönathar realizes he is not ready to say his goodbyes yet. He glances back towards the manor and can still make out the music coming from the festivities even from here.

“I know it may not seem like it, but I quite dislike my mother’s parties,” he states.

She stares up at him, “Why do you dislike them?”

He sighs, “My mother has been rather…adamant about me finding a wife as of late.”

Rose nods and stares down into the water, “I know the feeling. My father has been trying for some time to convince to find a good husband, he says settling down and having a few children will put a halt to my wanderings and calm my mind.”

His brows furrow, “That is absurd. No disrespect to your father, but that is not a good reason to have children. My mother has had two at the insistence of her family that she bear heirs and I can assure you it has done nothing to ‘calm her mind’ she is as fiery as ever and is even incredibly disillusioned as to who her children even are.”

Rose’s eyes widen and she blinks a few times as she stares up at him and he is worried for a moment that he has overstepped his bounds.

“You’re right, you should only have children because you want them, because you love them and no other reason…I think I had forgotten that,” she says.

He gives her a small smile, “It seems both of our parents refuse to see who we have grown into or care for our opinion on the matter.”

She nods, “And I do wish to be married…I just wish to do so in my own time, without the pressure from my family.”

He chuckles, “A great deal of my friends have also given their opinion on the matter.”

“They should honestly only regard their own affairs and stay out of everyone else’s!” she giggles.

“Agreed,” he says.

They both stare into one another’s eyes as it grows silent between the two of them.

The only sound to be heard is the babbling brook beneath them and the sounds of insects filling the night.

His left hand reaches up to her face and he caresses her cheek with his thumb.

Her eyelids flutter and he leans in towards her and she does the same with him.

He brushes his lips against hers and for a perfect moment nothing else matters to the elf in the whole world.

She pulls back slowly and he opens his eyes and withdraws.

She smiles and then wets her lips.

Lönathar is struck with the realization that he does not wish for this encounter to end here, “Would it…be alright if I were to write to you?” he asks.

She blinks in surprise, “I…I would like that very much.”

“And perhaps even visit you from time to time?” he asks excitedly.

She nods, “You’re more than welcome to.”

He smiles again and leans forwards and presses his lips to hers once more, a kiss she happily returns.

At the end of the evening he escorts her to her carriage and before she boards he presses one final kiss to her hand….

Kandomere’s phone rings and he sets his book down, “Yes?” he answers as he picks it up.

“Hey, Boss, you got everything planned for your date tonight?” Montehugh asks.

Kandomere sighs, “Yes, Ulysses, in fact I was just about to call the restaurant to reserve a table.”

“Wait, you haven’t already made a reservation?” Montehugh asks and then he sucks in a breath, “Cutting it kinda close don’t you think?”

“I still have several hours to prepare and this particular restaurant never has all of their tables gone,” Kandomere says.

“This an elf restaurant?” Montehugh asks.

Kandomere pauses, “…Yes?”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Boss?” Montehugh asks.

“I know what you’re getting at, Ulysses, and…I made sure that it’s furthest away from the worst of them. Besides, I do still want to impress her and the food is good and they even have a pianist,” Kandomere explains.

He really wants tonight to go well and he hopes treating her to a high class and romantic dinner will help him woo her. She is a lovely and beautiful woman who he wants to give and share everything with and he understands that there are differences between them that might be off putting to her.

He needs to take things slow.

“Alright just keep an eye out for anyone lookin’ to cause a scene,” Montehugh warns.

“Don’t I always?” Kandomere questions with a raised brow.

Montehugh chuckles, “So what overly expensive suit are you gonna wear tonight?”

Kandomere smiles and walks to his closet and admires the blue suit with silver leafing embroidered over the lapels and across the shoulders, with a matching vest and tie. He had even picked out a silver rose brooch to accompany it.

“It’s not too far removed from what I usually wear,” Kandomere remarks modestly, “I also plan to bring her a bouquet of roses when I pick her up.”

“Uh huh sure, nice to see you’re going all out,” Montehugh says.

“That’s right,” Kandomere muses striding back to his bed to retrieve his book, “You haven’t seen me in the process of a courtship before.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you date anyone or heard you talk about anyone, so no,” Montehugh says.

Kandomere smiles, “Goodbye, Ulysses.”

“Goodbye, Boss, good luck on your date,” Montehugh says.

After he hangs up the phone Kandomere then begins to dial the number for the restaurant.

“{Hello, Verdant Waters, how may I help you?}” a somewhat friendly voice greets.

“{Yes, I am looking to reserve a table tonight for two at seven-thirty,}” Kandomere states.

“{Sir, I’m afraid all of our tables are already booked for the evening,}” she says.

“{Already? But there are always a few tables you leave empty in the event you might need them,”} Kandomere says.

There’s a pause, “{….No, Sir, I’m afraid there aren’t any more tables available,}” she repeats.

Kandomere inhales.

He knows for certain that they Always have tables, he’s been there himself many times and seen them empty the entire evening. They must be expecting someone more important than him and told to decline any attempts at reserving them.

“{Alright, thank you, Goodbye,}” Kandomere says and hangs up the phone.

Kandomere runs his hands through his hair and sighs and then he pulls up his contacts. He dials the number and lifts the phone to his ear again and waits.

He hears her pick up and there’s an excited gasp, “Hola, Mi Hermano!”

He smiles, “Hola, Cirinea.”

“So what’s going on with you? Catch any bad guys lately?” Cirinea asks.

Kandomere chuckles, “I’m working on a few cases at the moment so…not yet. I was wondering though…”

His sister sighs, “What is it you want me to do?”

“I need you to get me a table tonight at Verdant Waters for seven-thirty, please?” Kandomere asks.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” Cirinea says.

“And…make sure it’s a table for two,” Kandomere adds.

His sister is quiet for a moment.

Here it comes.

“YOU HAVE A DATE?!!” she asks excitedly.

He winces at her volume and has to lift the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?!” Cirinea demands.

“Technically, I’m not…yet. It’s a first date,” Kandomere explains.

“Awww it’s been so long since you’ve dated anyone mother will be so pleased,” Cirinea continues.

“NO! Please don’t tell her, Cirinea!” Kandomere exclaims.

“What? Why not?” Cirinea asks.

“Because she’s…not exactly someone mother would approve of and I really don’t want to fuck this up,” Kandomere says.

“Alright, Hermano, I’ll get you that table but I insist you give me all the details about her and how you met, when me and Aranea are in town next weekend,” Cirinea says.

“Thank you,” Kandomere says with a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome!” she chimes, “Oh and good luck on your date!”

*******

You stand in front of your bathroom mirror and take a few pictures of yourself with your phone. You then hurriedly send the best ones to Hernández and McTavish. They had both given you their phone numbers after you had excitedly told them about your date with Kandomere on the way home.

Hernández sends you a bunch of exclamation marks followed by a sparkly heart.

“You look gorgeous,” McTavish replies.

“Lookin’ good, Muchacha!” Hernández exclaims.

“Thanks!” you respond, “I’m so nervous, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Well, I recommend you don’t do that,” Hernández says.

“I think that’s obvious, Gabriela. Don’t worry, I’m sure your date will go great!” McTavish says.

“Thanks, Gwen. I still feel like I’m underdressed for a dinner date,” you say.

“Nah, you look amazing,” Hernández says.

“We’re probably going to an elven restaurant which means they’re will be a lot of really well-dressed elves,” you text.

You stop and look back at Hernández’s text.

“Thank you, Gabriela,” you say.

“What do elves know about fashion anyway? Look the only elf’s attire you should be concerned about is what Kandomere’s going to wear tonight on your date,” Hernández says.

“Yeah that’s a good point,” McTavish says, “What does he wear when he wants to look super good?”

“Oh. My. God. I literally hadn’t thought of that,” you say.

What IS Kandomere going to wear on your date with him?

The elf already dresses to the nines on his work days.

Your breathing quickens as you try to imagine what he could possibly wear tonight.

What if he’s so gorgeous you just melt into a puddle on the floor. Will you even be able to hold a conversation with him? What if he doesn’t want to go out again because you can’t hold a conversation and he thinks you’re boring?

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you glance down at it.

“Haha!” Hernández says, “Imagine what he looks like without his clothes!”

You smile and shake your head, “I already did that, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Hernández says.

“What? Did I miss something?” McTavish asks.

You get another text message but it’s not from your group chat.

You tap over to it and stare at the new text from Kandomere he just sent you, “I’m on my way up, Querida.”

You send him a heart, “Can’t wait to see you!”

Oh no, that’s not too eager is it?

You go back to the group chat, “He’s here!”

“Good luck!” McTavish exclaims.

“Have fun! I expect a full report tomorrow!” Hernández exclaims.

You smile and stuff your phone back into your clutch.

You make your way to your living room and staring at your kitchen you remember there is something that you’re forgetting. You rush to your kitchen and drag out the step stool and carefully climb it in your black pumps. You pry the shoebox off the ceiling and retrieve one of your perfume bottles of Eternal Rose. Then you climb back down the step stool and set both the shoebox and your clutch down on the kitchen counter. You spritz a small amount on your wrists and then dab two fingers on your wrists and then dab your neck with the perfume.

You hope Kandomere likes it.

It’s your favorite perfume and you hope it smells alright on you to him.

It is intended for elves not humans and you hope it still has the desired effect.

You hear a knock on your door, “Coming!” you shout.

You quickly stuff the bottle back into the shoebox and put it back on the ceiling. You climb back down and straighten your dress, you’re wearing a soft pink, floral lace dress with a high neckline, accompanied by black tights with an ornate pattern cut into them, along with a pair of black pumps and a black clutch. You hurry to the door and open it and you’re met with a stunning elf in a blue three-piece suit with silver embroidery all along it and…a full bouquet of pink and white roses.

You’re speechless as he gently holds them out to you.

You take them and bury your face in them, “Kandomere…” you say softly.

He smiles at you and you smile wide and glance from the flowers to him.

“Come in while I put these in a vase,” you say.

He smiles again and steps in behind you as you head to the kitchen.

You pull down a vase big enough from the cabinet and fill it with water and then place the flowers in it carefully and admire them. Kandomere steps into the entryway of your kitchen and waits patiently for you.

You look up at him and he smiles softly at you.

“You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” you say happily.

“I wanted to,” he says tenderly.

You step towards him, but he doesn’t move from the doorway and you step close to the elf and stare up at him. His right hand reaches up to play with a loose strand of hair near your ear and you smile. His hand then moves to rest his thumb on your cheek and his fingertips on your neck.

Kandomere inhales, “Eternal Rose,” he states quietly.

Your eyes widen slightly and you stare up at him, “Yes.”

He opens his mouth and takes a slow breath and blinks, “It smells lovely on you.”

“Really?” you ask.

He nods, “It compliments your natural scent extraordinarily well.”

You smile and turn towards his hand so that his fingers brush against your skin, “Well, roses are my favorite,” you say.

“I was hoping they might be,” Kandomere says.

You stare up into his eyes and it’s quiet as he strokes your cheek.

After a moment Kandomere takes a breath, “We should get going, yes?”

You nod.

You could honestly continue to stay here and stare into his eyes all night, but you are famished and food sounds really good right now.

He offers you his arm and you smile again and take it.

The two of you walk out of your apartment and you briefly take your hand out of the crook of his arm to lock your door. You then slip your arm back into his and walk with him to the elevator and then down to his car. Kandomere opens the door for you and you notice briefly other people on the street looking at you and Kandomere.

Including Frank and his fellow Fogteeth members.

Frank and the Fogteeth keep their distance and Frank seems to be checking to make sure you’re okay, you give him a brief smile and climb into the car.

The elf shuts your door and makes his way around to his side of the vehicle and though he seems genuinely excited for your date, a serious expression crosses his features as he glances around. No doubt the elf is familiar with being watched and he sizes up everyone on the street and when his attention turns to the orcs, most of them scowl at him, with the exception of Frank for some reason.

The stare down with the entire neighborhood is brief and lasts no more than a few seconds before he climbs into the vehicle as well and greets you with a warm smile.

A smile that you return happily.

Kandomere starts the car and begins driving you to your destination.

Your stomach is full of butterflies, as you feel both nervous and excited.

It’s probably been close to three years since you’ve had an actual date.

You grow more nervous as you realize you’re heading for the elven district.

Kandomere didn’t exactly say where you were going for dinner, but you assumed it would be someplace nice and expensive, and what’s more expensive than a fancy restaurant in the elven district?

You straighten out your dress again as the elf pulls up next to the guard.

There’s a sticker plastered on the window of Kandomere’s car indicating that his vehicle is authorized entry into the elven district. Although the guard doesn’t really need it, the man takes one quick glance at Kandomere and nods and waves the elf forward. The guard does catch sight of you at the last second and does a double take as the vehicle passes him. He seems confused, but not willing to kick up a fuss as to why an elf is accompanied by a human. He’s got other worries considering that its Saturday night in L.A. and as you enter the elven district there is an abundance of elves out and about.

It’s slow going moving through the main street and you feel yourself sinking in your seat as Kandomere is forced to stop multiple times because of red lights and pedestrian crossings. The elves don’t seem to notice you, being too preoccupied with their own activities they have planned for the evening.

Kandomere sets his hand overtop yours and you jolt.

You turn towards him and he’s looking at you concerned, “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” you assure him.

He opens his mouth to say something and afraid that he might call off the whole evening you interrupt him, “Which restaurant are we going to?”

He eyes you and turns his attention back to the road as traffic starts to move forwards again, “Verdant Waters,” he answers.

You relax a little, of all the restaurants Kandomere could have chosen, Verdant Waters, is probably the best in terms of quality food, but also privacy.

It’s not the busiest or most famous restaurant in the elven district and is likely not to be overcrowded with too many elves.

Maybe Kandomere is worried about messing up your date too.

He could have chosen the best restaurant in town, but that would have meant dealing with a lot more elves, and you’ve never actually been to any of these restaurants as yourself.

Despite the fact that you’ve been to most of them.

You’re not sure what to expect from any of the elves here.

There’s no way they’re going to be happy about you on a date with one and you don’t have your magic to protect you.

But you do have Kandomere.

He could probably kick any elf’s ass here.

At the very least he has the authority to arrest them, you’d actually like to see the look on an elf’s face as they’re arrested by one of their own.

Just not tonight of course.

You want tonight to be perfect.

Kandomere pulls up to the valet parking in front of the building and parks.

He steps out of the vehicle and as an attendant approaches your side of the car, the elf puts up a hand. And then Kandomere strides around to your side and opens the door for you and offers you a hand.

You take it and smile at him.

The human man working as an attendant raises his brows, but says nothing as he takes the keys from Kandomere. You nervously grip your clutch as you stare at all the other cars in line and the elves walking into the restaurant.

You jolt slightly when a hand touches your lower back and look up into your date’s eyes. His brows pinch together slightly and you smile at him, hoping to ease his worries. It doesn’t entirely work, but he gestures a hand out towards the restaurant and you walk with him out of the street and towards the building.

The elf opens the door for you again and you step inside.

Soft piano music and the murmur of voices from conversations meets your ears and you stare around at the beautiful and romantically lit entryway. There’s a chandelier hanging high above you and a green stained glass wall in front of you carved into the shape of a still waterfall with a pool formed beneath it that has golden fish jumping out of it. Beyond the wall you can make out the glimmer of candlelight amidst the tables and the soft electrical lights hanging from the ceiling above.

Kandomere follows behind you and his hand gently touches your lower back as he guides you to the nearby hostess to your left. Who eyes you briefly before turning her attention to the elf, “{Hello, Welcome to Verdant Waters,}” she says in Övüsi.

“{Hello,}” Kandomere greets, “{I have a reservation for a table for two under the name Kandomere.}”

The woman smiles and checks her list, “{Alright, Sir, if you will please follow your waiter to your table,}” she says gesturing to a man who is now approaching you both.

You follow Kandomere past the glass waterfall and notice the hostess stare at you curiously before turning her attention back to the other waiting elves.

You walk across the dark green carpet with gold hexagons and are brought to an empty table with a gold tablecloth and a singular lit candle. The table is surrounded by about four other tables that are already occupied with a handful of elves.

Kandomere steps forwards and pulls out your chair for you.

You stare up at him and smile before seating yourself.

Then he sits down and the waiter hands you both a menu, “Is there any particular wine I could start you both off with tonight?”

Kandomere glances at the menu and then up at the waiter, “We’ll take the pinot-“

“No, thank you,” you interrupt quickly.

Kandomere pauses and looks to you and you purse your lips together, “I don’t drink,” you say quietly.

Kandomere’s brows raise, “Oh, in that case…just water.”

The waiter looks to you, “Would you prefer sparkling?”

“Sure,” you answer.

“Sparkling water for the both of us then,” Kandomere says smiling at the waiter.

The waiter nods, “And do you need a moment to look over your menus?”

“Yes, please,” Kandomere says.

The waiter steps away to retrieve your drinks and you exhale slowly and pick up your menu. You’re familiar with it and what their best dishes are so you don’t need to read it, but you’ve never been this nervous since the first time you ever went to an elven restaurant with Selina. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the other elves staring at you and then turn from you to mutter softly to one another at their tables. You risk a glance over at one table and actually stare directly at a pale, plump elven woman in a blue satin dress who’s eyeing you. She then turns from you and places her left hand, which has an extraordinarily expensive looking wedding ring on it, and whispers something to the equally plump and much darker skinned elven woman seated next to her. You notice a similar ring on the hand of the second elven woman in a maroon satin dress and then they both turn in unison to stare at you. You feel a hand overtop yours and you gasp and spin around and lock eyes with Kandomere.

His face is gentle and he exhales slowly as he strokes your hand.

You exhale quietly as well and stare at his hand and then you turn your hand slightly and Kandomere gently takes your hand in his own. You meet his gaze again and he smiles and brings your hand to his lips before resting both of yours back on the table again.

The soft piano music drifts into your ears again as a new piece starts and you stare over at the stage where an older, elven woman in a green, velvet dress is playing traditional elven music on a white, grand piano.

It’s the extended musical version of the song ‘Oh Lover Mine.’

The tune is soothing and with Kandomere’s help you feel a little grounded once more.

You turn your attention back to Kandomere and meet his gaze, “So tell me about yourself?” he says with a smile.

You smile and huff quietly, “What? You don’t know everything?”

“I may know a good deal about you already, but I don’t know everything and I’d like to,” Kandomere says softly.

You feel a sudden heat in your face, “I don’t think I can cover all of it in one night,” you admit.

He smiles and hums.

“Um…well I have an older sister,” you begin, “And she has two kids, my niece and nephew, they’re four and six. So they’re still pretty little, I used to babysit all the time before I moved out here. She still lives in the same city as my parents…”

Kandomere nods politely as he listens and continues to smile.

“Do you have any nieces or nephews? I know you said you have older sisters as well?” you ask.

“Not yet,” Kandomere says, “My oldest sister Maretha and my Brother-in-Law, Tynthron, are expecting their first baby.”

Your eyes widen, “What?! Awwww, how far along is she?”

“She’s only got a month left to go,” Kandomere says.

“Aw, boy or girl?” you ask.

“Boy,” Kandomere answers.

“I bet your mom’s really excited, first grandbaby and all,” you say.

“Oh yes,” Kandomere says with raised brows, “She’s not stopped talking about it to everyone she meets.”

The waiter returns to your table with your drinks and sets them down in front of you both, “Have you decided on anything?” he asks.

“Oh, yes,” you answer.

You’ve been here before so you order a cheese sauce coated pasta dish, while Kandomere orders a particularly good cut of meat with a side of steamed vegetables.

The waiter notices the two of you still holding hands, “Will that be all for the lovely couple?”

You’re stunned for a moment and Kandomere turns to you, “Do you want any dessert?”

“Oh um…sure,” you answer.

Kandomere then orders two slices of a German chocolate cake with butter cream frosting for the two of you to eat after your meal. And then the waiter leaves again and you feel like the eyes of the entire restaurant are upon you.

This isn’t the first time you and Kandomere have been presumed to be a couple by other humans, but it feels different this time.

One because you’re actually on a date with the elf.

And two because there are other elves besides Kandomere who have also taken notice that this is a romantic endeavor and not a business one.

Kandomere squeezes your hand, “Are you alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah I just-“ you begin and shoot a quick glance around the room and a couple elves look away and pretend not to have been staring. Especially since Kandomere’s gaze follows yours and they’re unable to meet his steely gaze.

“It’s not an illusion is all,” you whisper, “It’s just me.”

“I like you,” Kandomere whispers with a smile.

A huge smile spreads across your face.

“I find you absolutely enchanting,” Kandomere continues and lifts your hand to press another kiss to your knuckles.

You see one elven woman behind him, who is sitting alone sipping on her wine, roll her eyes dramatically and practically gag on her drink.

And honestly?

Let her choke.

As Kandomere sets your hand down, you then lift his to your cheek and his face softens as he stares at you transfixed. He gently moves his hand to caress your cheek and you rest your face against his palm.

“Enchanting indeed,” you whisper.

He stares at you and he looks like he’s about to kiss you again, but there is still the table between you both and he sighs softly. You slowly bring his hand back down to the table and Kandomere seems to remember his manners.

“So what brought you to L.A.?” he questions.

Your smile drops a little, “I just needed a change of scenery is all.”

Kandomere’s head tilts at you and you can tell he knows you’re lying but he doesn’t know why. So you give him a not here look and he moves on, “I’m not from here originally myself, I was born in South America and it’s where most of my family is from.”

“What? Really? Do you have a big family? Outside of your immediate family I mean,” you say.

He nods, “My mother has a few sisters of her own and…my father has a couple brothers, so I have a number of cousins.”

You smile wide at him.

He takes a breath and continues, “We stayed there for a while during my early childhood before we moved to Europe.”

“Europe? Why did you move?” you ask curiously.

Kandomere’s eyes drift to the side for a moment, “It was…at my father’s insistence. We moved around to a number of countries, never staying for more than a few years before we eventually settled in France for a time, and from there we inevitably came to the U.S.”

“Is that how you know French?” you ask.

He nods, “Although I did have plenty of tutors in other languages.”

“Which ones do you know? I’ve been meaning to ask,” you say coyly.

His smile grows, “I hadn’t forgotten, Amor. I know eight: Elvish, Spanish, English, French, Dwarvish, Orcish, German, and Italian.”

“Dwarvish? You know Dwarvish too?” you ask surprised.

“Of course,” Kandomere says, “There are a handful of Dwarves I work with and I felt it would be helpful to know their language.”

“You know that’s almost as surprising as you knowing Orcish,” you state.

He opens his mouth slightly, “Well, yes…there are a lot of orcs who work in various service industries and not all of them know English and…I always used to struggle to communicate that I decided to finally learn the language. I don’t think I’ve ever not surprised an orc by speaking it though.”

“That’s because most elves don’t ever bother learning it,” you say.

Kandomere dips his head, but his eyes dart around the room to stare at the other elves, “Yes,” he says simply.

You stroke his hand with your thumb and he raises his head to meet your gaze.

You didn’t mean to bring a downer to the conversation and you want to lift the mood again.

But how can you do that?

You could always go back to the basics?

“So uh…what’s your favorite color?” you ask awkwardly.

Okay maybe not that basic.

His eyebrows raise and he smiles clearly amused by your question, “Didn’t you already ask me that?” he questions with a small huff.

Your eyes widen, “Did I? When?”

Kandomere chuckles softly, “When I drove you home?”

“Oh…right,” you mutter a little embarrassed.

Kandomere smiles at you fondly, “My favorite color is blue,” he answers.

You stare at him and smile, “Mine too.”

His eyes widen slightly, “Really? We have the same favorite color?” he asks softly.

You nod, “Yeah I….actually really love your hair and…it looks so soft….” you trail off as you lift your hand, only to realize it’s the one Kandomere is currently holding and you quickly correct yourself and lower it again.

You feel your face heat up as your embarrassment grows.

How are you supposed to get a second date like this?

But Kandomere only smiles again, “It is,” he answers, “I take excellent care of it, as I do with everything in my life.”

The elf strokes your knuckles with his thumb and stares down at your hand as you feel a warmth quickly spread through your abdomen. You stare at the elf’s soft and enticing lips for a moment, and then your conversation is interrupted by the waiter arriving with your food.

You politely smile at him and thank him and then reach for your utensils.

Kandomere releases your hand slowly and you try to daintily take a bite of your food. You’ve eaten in elven restaurants before and learned the mannerisms, so then why is this so nerve-wracking?

Your date, Kandomere, picks up his own utensils and begins eating the vegetables on his plate first.

God, he even eats food gracefully…

Kandomere’s eyes glance up at you and he chews and swallows his food, “What?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

He raises an eyebrow and you quickly try to think of another question to distract him.

“So what do your sisters do, like professionally?” you ask.

You relax when the elf grabs his napkin and politely wipes his mouth, although you’re certain there was no need to.

“Maretha is an author, so she works from home mostly, she had decided to set up a workspace at home so she could be a stay-at-home mom,” Kandomere explains.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, what does her husband do? Does he work?” you ask.

Kandomere nods, “He’s upper management at a company, he’s not the head of the board, but he is on it, and Maretha also still runs a couple of charities and organizes annual auctions to support her causes.”

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say with a smile.

“She’s always advocated for better rights for other races,” he says.

So maybe his family will be alright with you dating Kandomere afterall.

“What about the twins? Aranea and Cirinea?” you question.

Kandomere opens his mouth and pauses and then gives the restaurant a cursory glance before turning back to you.

You furrow your brows confused.

Since you sat down the elves nearest your table had paid for their meals and left and no other elves have taken up residence beside you since.

“I don’t suppose you listen to much elven music do you?” Kandomere asks.

You shake your head, “No, but I have heard some of it before.”

Every shop you’ve ever visited in the elven district, including the one where you used to work, exclusively played elvish music.

Kandomere pulls out his phone from his pocket and then searches for something.

He then carefully sets it on the table in front of you as his eyes slowly scan the room again. You read the lyrics of a song he searched, the English version of course which in itself is surprising, and your eyes widen as you read who sings it and stare back up at your date.

Who seems to have braced himself for your reaction.

“Holy shit, really?!” you whisper shocked.

Kandomere closes his eyes and nods before retrieving his phone.

“Wow that must be hard to maintain a level of…secrecy with Your job given that’s Their job,” you say.

Kandomere studies you for a moment and nods finally, “Well, typically they live in New York, when they’re not traveling, but yes, sometimes it comes up.”

Now you study him for a moment, “Kandomere…where you worried that I’d care more about your sisters’ job than you?”

He inhales slowly and meets your eyes, “It’s happened on occasion in the past.”

You reach out your hand and he gingerly takes it.

“Kandomere Dear, I care about you, I’m here because…I like you….a lot,” you say and pause to take a breath, “And I want this, with you.”

He smiles and lifts your hand to his lips, “I’m glad to know we’re on the same page, Querida, because I certainly want you.”

You face heats up again and suddenly you’re at a loss for words, so you pick up your fork with your other hand and begin eating your meal again.

Kandomere does the same, but he doesn’t release your hand, preferring to not break the contact until he needs to use his knife on the filet he ordered.

After your empty plates are taken away, the two of you are then brought dessert.

“Oh I’m sure I already told you, but thank you for that letter you left for me,” you say.

He smiles, “I don’t think you had yet, but I’m glad, I hope it helped.”

“It did, a lot,” you say and then you remember something, “Oh! I also loved that little wax gryphon seal you used.”

Kandomere tilts his head, “You liked my seal?” he questions.

“Yeah you know,” you begin and pull out your phone from your clutch to show him a picture you took of it and show it to Kandomere.

He stares at it and shakes his head, “It’s just my family seal, it’s tradition to put it on all my handwritten letters.”

“It’s your family seal?” you ask now tucking your phone back into your clutch.

You were going to ask him where he got it so you could get one, but that feels highly inappropriate now.

“Yes? My mother’s seal to be precise,” he confirms.

“Oh…what about your father’s seal?” you question.

Kandomere’s face darkens and he shakes his head, “Traditionally his seal would have become his children’s, but my mother and Him are no longer married so me and my sisters have all chosen to use mother’s instead.”

You blink a few times, “No longer married? All of you chose? Kandomere, what happened? Why do you hate him so much?” you ask squeezing his hand.

He stares at you for a moment and then glances down, “There are many reasons. Too many,” he sighs, “But if you want to know?”

You nod and lean towards him.

He takes a deep breath, “My parents divorced sometime in my early adolescence, things weren’t going great when I was born and only deteriorated when we moved to Europe. I don’t doubt the primary reason was to separate my mother from her side of the family, he was not kind to her, nor was he kind to me or my sisters. In fact I distinctly recall one afternoon, Maretha had received a love letter from an admirer, and my father tore it from her hands and threw it into the fireplace. He scolded her saying that she should not associate herself with a perceived ‘lesser’ elven family. This outburst was primarily because the boy’s father was a business rival, but it was uncalled for nevertheless. Maretha ran crying to her room and my mother tried to console her as best she could.”

“He yelled at her Over a Letter?” you ask horrified.

Kandomere’s brows furrow, “My father tried to make me like him, and would scold me for being ‘too soft’ and would say that my mother was ‘poisoning me against him.’

And my Mamá was soon deeply unhappy, as were we all.

So she filed for divorce.

It was messy to say the least, they both fought each other for custody of us, and the courts ultimately let me and my sisters choose who we wanted to be with…and we all chose my mother.

His abuse was never physical and he didn’t need to be, he was a very manipulative man who could twist nearly any conversation to suit his needs.

It took my mother decades to recover and she still managed to raise us all on her own,” Kandomere finishes.

You take a breath, “Kandomere….I’m…so sorry that happened to you all,” you say shaking your head, “That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

Kandomere’s face softens and he squeezes your hand and takes a breath of his own, “You don’t need to apologize, Querida.”

You take his hand in both of yours and he clasps his other hand overtop of yours.

He takes another breath, “It has taken me sometime to rid myself of his influence as well, but…I like the elf that I am today and…I want to do better.”

You offer him a small smile and the corner of his mouth lifts up as he turns both of your hands in his and clasps them gently.

It’s quiet for a moment and Kandomere closes his eyes briefly.

“So um…” you begin awkwardly.

Kandomere opens his eyes and stares at you.

“You like to watch shitty documentaries?” you ask hoping to lift the mood again.

Kandomere smiles and chuckles softly, which in all honesty you were hoping he would, “Yes,” he answers with amusement.

“Is that one we watched your favorite?” you ask.

“It’s one of my favorites,” Kandomere says, “There is an even better one I found that I’d love to show you, it aired last night and I only managed to get about thirty minutes into it but it was already hilarious.”

“Really?” you ask with a smile.

He nods, “They didn’t have the budget to hire someone to bring in an actual hippocampus so they mixed in cgi and a shitty puppet they made.”

You giggle a little, “I could come over and watch it with you?”

“You’re more than welcome to…” he says softly.

You smile and lace your fingers with his, “Like a movie date?”

“We could always watch a movie instead if you’d prefer, what sort of movies do you like?” Kandomere asks.

“I actually really like horror,” you say shyly.

Kandomere smiles, “So do I.”

“Really?” you ask surprised.

“I don’t generally find them scary but sometimes ridiculous things happen not unlike in the documentaries, which one is your favorite?” Kandomere asks.

The two of you continue to talk about movies you’ve seen until most of the other elves have left and the restaurant becomes quiet. You both finally realize you should leave and Kandomere pays for the meal and leaves a hefty tip and then the two of you step out into the cool night air. You shiver a little and Kandomere wraps an arm around you and draws you into his side, causing you to blush.

When you’re finally back in the car and headed home, Kandomere glances over at you, “Why didn’t you tell me you don’t drink?”

“Oh I…didn’t think about it, sorry,” you say.

“You don’t need to apologize, Hermosa. It was inconsiderate of me not to ask,” he says.

“It’s fine, really, lots of people drink I understand why it didn’t cross your mind,” you continue.

Kandomere glances over at you and is silent for a moment, “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you?” he asks softly.

“Oh…um…it’s more of a personal reason,” you say quietly.

Kandomere glances at you briefly again, but clearly doesn’t want to push you.

This isn’t exactly good first date conversation, but he did tell you about his father…

“It’s because of my magic,” you admit staring at him trying to gauge his reaction.

He seems perplexed but willing to listen as his eyebrows raise.

“Alcohol doesn’t mix very well, as I’ve found out, and I can’t control myself as easily. So I don’t drink,” you explain, “Not that I was ever a heavy drinker,” you add quickly, “I just prefer to keep my head clear.”

“Querida, why didn’t you tell me?” he asks his voice filled with worry, “I would have taken you somewhere else.”

You smile at him, “Kandomere, it’s fine, I…had a good time.”

He glances over at you a third time and smiles, “As did I,” he says placing his hand over yours.

It’s a peaceful ride back to your apartment and when he parks, the elf walks around to your side of the vehicle and opens your door for you, “Allow me to walk you up?” he asks taking your hand and helping you out of the car.

You smile and nod, “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he says.

The two of you then head up to your apartment and Kandomere has his hand placed on your lower back as you ride the elevator up.

You glance at the handsome elf beside you out of the corner of your eye.

Should you warp your arm around him?

Would that be too much?

Most elven women you’ve seen have only ever lightly grasped the inside elbow of their significant other.

As the doors open and you both step out, Kandomere’s hand falls to his side. You walk down the hall in relative silence and you struggle for a few moments on whether or not you should hold his hand.

You glance down at his hand briefly as you round a corner.

And then tentatively bump your hand against his.

But of course Kandomere notices and he glances down at your hand.

You bump your knuckles against his again and then start to slip your hand into his.

The elf slows for a moment and you feel his hand grip yours.

Finding a comfortable position, you then glance up at him and you both smile at one another. You reach your door and let go of his hand to spin and face him and you look up at him expectantly.

It’s appropriate to kiss on a first date right?

You have already almost kissed him and the date has gone incredibly well.

Kandomere’s brows raise in surprise and you’re worried you’ve misread things for a moment until he smiles and then reaches his hand out…to caress your ear.

You smile as his fingers slowly trail around you ear as you lean towards his palm. His hand drifts down to your jaw and towards your chin and he tilts your face upward gently.

His eyes are half-lidded as he leans in and you close your eyes and lean towards him.

And then you feel his lips brush against yours.

The two of you kiss softly and slowly, opening your mouths and tasting one another for the first time. And after a moment Kandomere slowly pulls away from you and you open your eyes.

“One more,” you whisper.

He pauses and stares at your lips and then he smiles and leans in again to capture your lips with his own. It’s slow again, but as Kandomere’s tongue slips into your mouth, your cheeks flush and you make a sound at the back of your throat. Kandomere starts to kiss you more passionately and you reciprocate, your left hand moving to cup his face. He wraps an arm around you and holds you close to his chest and you can feel a heat creeping up in between your legs. You both pull back for a breath and as you’re about to pull away entirely…

“One more,” Kandomere whispers.

You smile and press your lips to his and kiss him tenderly, and he smiles against your lips causing you to smile again. And then you both just relish in your much slower and sweeter kiss, and when you both finally separate, you press your foreheads together and then you lift your head to stare at the elf.

There’s such a look of fondness on Kandomere’s face that you can’t help but smile.

Your thumb strokes his cheek affectionately and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you breathe.

Kandomere’s eyes open to lock with yours and you’re amazed at how gorgeous his eyes are. Your eyes move to his left ear and you lift your hand and slowly trail your fingertips up and over the tip of his pointed ear.

He sucks in a breath and his eyes close as his mouth hangs open.

You feel another surge of warmth in your abdomen and slowly withdraw your hand.

Kandomere blinks slowly and then his eyes meet yours.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” you ask worried.

He gives you a gentle shake of his head, “Not at all, Mi Hermosa, it was…a very sensual touch.”

You feel your face flush, “Oh…”

“You’re…more than welcome to touch my ears anytime you’d like,” he says softly, “But I would prefer if you did it when we have some…privacy.”

You’re not quite sure what he means by sensual, but you’re a little preoccupied with how he’s staring at you right now with his wide pupils. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t doing anything for you. His right hand reaches up towards your left ear and trails around your ear gently and you smile. Kandomere smiles at you and then his left hand leaves your back and runs down your right arm and finds your hand and he brings it to his lips.

“Goodnight, Querida,” he says softly.

“Goodnight,” you repeat and your hand reaches behind you to find the doorknob and you try to turn it.

But it doesn’t open and you back into the door.

Confused, you turn around and try to open it.

“You need to unlock it first,” Kandomere states with amusement.

You stop and then open your clutch and pull out your keys and unlock the door and open it.

You smile as you turn around to face Kandomere again.

He huffs in amusement and smiles at you. “I’m looking forward to our second date, Mi Amor.”

“Second?” you question briefly in surprise and then nod, “That sounds lovely.”

Kandomere smiles and then starts to walk back down the hall slowly.

You briefly check out his ass before ducking into your apartment and shutting the door behind you.

You press your back to it and cover your face with your hands.

He wants a second date!

And you Kissed Him!

It felt so nice.

Probably because you really like him.

You lower your hands and smile and then lock your door.

You head to the kitchen and find the flowers you had left on the counter that Kandomere had given you and you smell the bouquet and sigh to yourself.

He also wants a second date and you find yourself looking forward to it….

*******

Kandomere enters his apartment and closes the door.

He smiles to himself and traces his fingers over his lips and sighs.

They have shared their first kiss…and second and third.

Honestly if she had asked he would have kissed her again, he hadn’t realized how badly he had been longing for her kiss until now. He makes his way to his bedroom and undresses and readies himself for bed. As he crawls into bed finally, fond memories of their conversation fill his mind. He will have to come up with something to do for their second date.

Perhaps he could take her to that new art exhibit that just opened up?

He stares over at his bedside table and at the blue book he had left there earlier.

Kandomere smiles and picks up the book and begins to flip through it slowly.

He doesn’t know yet if they’ll fall in love like the couple who wrote this book, but he wants to.

He wants to be in love.

Truly in love.

And it is something that has eluded him.

Kandomere absentmindedly continues flipping through the pages until one in particular catches his eye. He turns back a couple of pages and reads through them.

He swallows thickly as he feels a heat spread throughout his lower abdomen.

It is a romance novel and one would presume there would be sex scenes written in it. He wets his lips as he reads through it slowly, that water would be extraordinarily cold, for an elf especially. He feels himself hardening more as he reaches the end of the sex scene and he sets the book down on his nightstand once more and lies back against the pillow.

He stares up at the ceiling considering it for a moment.

He wraps his hand around his dick and begins to stroke himself.

And as he slowly starts to pump up and down, his thoughts wander to his date.

He smiles and closes his eyes and imagines her fingers running through his hair appreciatively.

Her lips ghosting over his ear before pressing a gentle kiss to his skin.

Her body grinding against his erection.

Kandomere lets out a low moan, or he could be on top of her, it is his preferred position. He could also easily pick her up and place her against a wall as he fucks her, not unlike in the story. It would certainly be an excellent way to showcase his strength, but…

He slows his pace to extend his pleasure.

She could be easily frightened.

A slow and gentle pace in their lovemaking then.

He remembers her lips on his and the scent of her arousal growing and his head lolls to the side, as he can feel the buildup begin. He imagines her hands and non-sharp nails digging into his back as she grips onto him, “Kandomere,” she pants, “Please, Kandomere, I need you.”

He buries his face in her neck and bites her tenderly, as she moans out and Kandomere grunts and groans as he finally cums and the elf opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling.

He breathes heavily in the silence and then he glances over at the empty side of the bed, this is twice now he’s thought of her while he pleasures himself.

Not to mention the dream he had of her.

He wonders if he’ll dream of her again tonight.

He exhales and rolls onto his side, he needs to be patient, courtships are slow, he can’t allow himself to rush into the sexual aspect of their growing relationship.

The first time they have sex is very important, especially considering elven customs.

If it’s not planned for and he doesn’t put forth enough effort on his part to properly woo her, then their relationship could fail before it even begins. He has to prove to her that it’s not just about the sex for him. He had hoped his choice of arrangement for a bouquet would help in showing his interest as a suitor. He had picked something that was her favorite and a color combination that was less about passion and more about genuine affection and adoration. She still greatly enjoyed the roses and the way she smelled with her perfume on…he’s not sure he can spend more than a handful of nights together with her smelling like that before they…

He takes a slow breath.

He doesn’t want to rush her and he doesn’t want to rush himself.

Besides he’s never had sex with a human before, will any of his techniques even work?

What if none of them work?

What if she’s disappointed by him?

He stares over at his book and picks it up and turns on his bedside lamp.

Perhaps he should do some more research then?

#kandomere #kandomere x reader #bright netflix

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