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majestyeverlasting · 3 years ago

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can you write prompts 3&10 with beefy!bucky x reader where he takes her on a surprise date under the stars n they cuddle n it’s cute n shit :)

✩ Alas, the time has come for a night under the stars. These prompts are amazing together, and tried my best to make it as cute as possible. It takes place in Brooklyn, and there's fairly lights, caresses, and of course kisses. A sprinkle of innocent teasing as well. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy.

✩ Prompt 3: “I told you the stars were gonna be out tonight.”

✩ Prompt 10: “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re kissing my neck like that.”

Brighter Than We Know

The same sky that was once a rich blue mixed with the warmth of orange had begun to welcome the beginnings of darkness. Only a trace of daylight remained, nothing more than a fleeting hint of illumination that proved the sun once shone over Prospect Park. That's where the two of you found yourselves, settled on a red blanket in a clearing of grass with a view of the lake. A few small mason jars filled with fairy lights were positioned on the ground around you.

The hands of time always seemed to move faster when you and Bucky were together. An indescribable easiness never failed to accompany his presence.

There was a warmth to the air of the budding night, and cricket chirps ascended from all around. Bucky sat with his legs outstretched, leaning back onto his hands. And you laid perpendicular to him with your head resting in his lap, gazing upwards and allowing yourself to be lulled by the atmosphere. When you closed your eyes, he traced a finger along your hairline and all the way down to follow the curve of your jaw. A pleasant tingle was left in its wake. The content hum that rose from your throat served as all the encouragement he needed to continue.

However, as his fingertips began to trace your lips, you opened your eyes and took his hand in yours—you’d always adored his hands. They were so strong and yet so gentle. You pressed a kiss to his palm, smiling at the way his fingers curled ever so slightly. Then you let go, and he continued to caress your features as if trying to further engrain them in his mind.

Soon, Bucky eventually said. Soon it would be dark enough for the stars to be seen in the heavens above. There was an inkling of doubt that you ended up voicing to him, but he soothed it with an easy smile and another promise that it was only a matter of time. The outing itself had been his idea. After dinner, you were expecting to go back to his apartment. But that’s when he’d told you that there was one more thing he’d planned.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you’d asked him question after question as the two of you arrived at Prospect Park, and began to walk through it; even going over your favorite bridge, and getting to hear the trickle of the small waterfalls leading into the pond beneath. There was something different about the way he was holding your hand, he was guiding you. Not merely walking with you.

It came to the point where the path you’d been following was no longer lined with trees. That’s when you saw everything in the grass a short distance away—the blanket, the mason jars. There were others out enjoying the stillness, but nobody occupying that space. Surely, that wasn’t for you two. But he led you right to it, and your heart soared in awe. There were a couple pillows and a bag of your favorite chocolate as well. You’d attempted to ask Bucky how he’d managed to put everything together, but the only answer he gave you was that he'd had help from somebody who was fond of the two of you.

Ms. Cleary. It had to have been her. Bucky winked when he saw the realization in your eyes. Virginia Cleary was a kind, older woman who lived across the hall from him. She spoke whenever she saw you, and had given him an original canvas painting of hers back when they first got acquainted. Her husband had passed away years prior, and her son worked as a businessman upstate. So she took pleasure in being caring and nurturing towards the two of you.

In that moment, you swore your gratitude for them was endless. The week had been so demanding of you, and in an instant their efforts had lifted the ghost of the weight that lingered on your shoulders.

Bucky began to shift, and you realized it was because he was lying onto his back. Naturally, you repositioned as well, opting to snuggle into his side and rest your head on his broad chest. You felt its steady rise and fall as his arm wrapped around you. He smelled woodsy with a hint of something warm and spiced. The dark gray shirt he wore defined his upper body, and you let one of your hands run up his torso, and over the hard shoulder of his metal arm. There was a solidness to his muscularity, but he was relaxed underneath your touch. There was no tension to be felt.

You glanced at his face, and saw that his eyes were directed upwards. You followed his gaze to where the stars still had yet to appear. Any moment, though. You craned your head and began peppering featherlight kisses to the crook of his neck. His stubbled Adam's apple bobbed with a swallow. And you felt him squeeze your waist as the exhales leaving his nose grew more audible.

“Doll.” His voice was gruff. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re kissing my neck like that.”

You hummed, but went on to start nibbling his skin, unable to contain a smile. After a few more seconds, you relented, and heard him whisper something quick under his breath. A chuckle bubbled out of you, as you propped yourself on his chest.

“What was that?”

He lips twitched upwards. “I said ‘please give me the strength.’”

You playfully clawed your fingers in his thick pecs. “You’re already pretty strong.”

“Not up against you, I’m not.” There was love in his eyes. A silence settled between the two of you for a few moments. You even let your cheek come to rest on your arms as they were folded on top of his chest.

But then Bucky shook your shoulder after a while. “Hey, look up, pretty girl. You can see ‘em shining now—all over.” His voice was low and measured, proud too.

As if charged, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, eyes wide and curious as they began to scan the vastness of the sky. They seemed to be everywhere, the stars. Some were clustered whereas others seemed to be off by themselves. But no matter the distance, none of them were truly alone as they shone amongst each other.

“See there, pretty girl?” Bucky said. “I told you the stars were gonna be out tonight.”

The moment you turned around to look down at him, he feared being awakened because your smile looked like something out of a dream. The glow of the fairy lights and the lampposts in the distance just barely helped illuminate your face—he saw you nonetheless. In a way only he could, however. He saw beyond your appearance, to what radiated from within you: the childlike wonder you held onto like a friend, your constant pursuit of the ‘extra’ in the ordinary, the love you were always so willing to extend. The extent of your beauty was a fountain that never ran dry.

Bucky thanked his lucky stars that out of every soul in the universe, he got to grow in the understanding of yours.

“You did tell me,” you spoke up. “Thank you. For this—for everything.” You meant that, strongly.

“Of course. Figured you’d appreciate it. I know you’ve been working really hard, and that you…”

His words trailed off as you moved to lay on your stomach beside him. You remained propped on one forearm, and rested your free hand on his chest before dipping your head down to kiss him. But not on his lips quite yet. You pressed one to the tip of his nose, then some to both corners of his mouth. Flutters of anticipation stirred within his chest, and you rendered them into longing when you placed yet another to the dimple of his chin. The sight of you pulling away to study his face made him release a quick exhale of disbelief tinged with amusement. You gave him a little knowing smirk before finally leaning back down to connect your lips.

Bucky used his weight to push you onto your back so that he was the one hovering over you. In the process, your lips parted, only to find each other once again. The way he kissed you was more tender and reverent than anything. But of course, fueled by that spark of passion that was always alight whenever he was with you.

After pulling away, he dipped to return the little kisses you’d given his neck. The added scratch of his stubble drew the sweetest giggles out of you that you attempted to stifle by biting your lip. Bucky felt like he was floating as he detached himself from you entirely, letting himself roll onto his back once again.

There the two of you were, buzzing and looking up at a sky full of stars.

Bucky took your hand in his, and ran his thumb over the back of it.

“They’re the brightest I’ve seen them in a while,” he said.

You squeezed his hand. “And they’re even brighter than we know because they’re so many miles away.”

✩ Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed your night under the stars.

✩ More fluffy Bucky fics

#bucky barnes #beefy bucky #beefy bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #winter soldier #tfaws bucky #marvel #marvel fic

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binniesthighs · 3 years ago

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cherry knot | reader x ryujin

a/n: you may be thinking to yourself, ro! a gg fic?? how unlike you!! well, boy do i have news for you 😂 truthfully, i’ve always been toying with the idea of writing a lil somethin’ (esp for ryujin god i love her) so i thought why not! if this isn’t your cup of tea, that’s totally okay <3 those who do read, thank you so much for reading and i hope that ya like it hehe and let me know what you think of it! :D (thank you @dom--minnie for enabling me too ;)

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

🍒 Pairing: self insert, female reader x shin ryujin

🍒 Genre: fluff n’ a lil bit suggestive

🍒 Tags: friends to lovers, high school au (everyone depicted is 18+), all girls school au, high school crush!ryujin, shy!reader, confession of feelings, that good, good makin’ out, ryujin being flirty and smug as hell bc i love her, yeah this is just me gushing about shin ryujin, ro trying new things on the blog :)

🍒 Word count: 2.9k

🍒 CWs: mentions of food and eating reader included

The grass felt sticky and uncomfortable under your crossed legs, and when you swiped your hand against the skin, you could feel the indentation from the blades. Your knee-high socks felt itchy too; everything felt itchy. Even the cotton of your shirt felt like it was suffocating, and the bow tied around your neck which hung loosely should have hung even looser.

To distract yourself, you plucked up the blades of green and tied them into knots absentmindedly. It was easier to pay attention to your idle hands compared to paying attention to her.

Could she even tell that you were looking? Could she see out of the corner of her eye when she threw her cotton-candy pink hair behind her ear? Could she tell that you watched as she gulped down the lemonade and caught a glance at the peachy fuzz of her neck exposed by her collar?

Stop looking. Stop looking.

Your other friends tied up their hair in clips and with lazy hair ties to free their sweating necks from the sun. No matter the sweltering heat, it was always tradition for your picnic just before the summer vacation. One of them had brought a cake and each of the girls attacked it viciously with small forks and smeared bits of frosting on each other’s noses.

“Come here!! You’re next!!” They beamed while launching themselves in your direction to dot your nose with the white cream.

A flurry of high pitched giggles peeled out from each of you once another frosting victim had been dubbed. Your cheeks felt furiously hot knowing that she was looking; and that she was laughing along with the rest of them.

“Awwww cute.” She adored with a smile that turned her dimples into whiskers on her cheeks.

You quickly wiped it off with a handkerchief that settled into your damp hand.

She’s looking, she’s looking…

The other girls pranced around the checkered picnic blanket in their white socks--undoubtedly painting them with green that their mothers would scold them for later. Their careless steps made a mess of the food wrappers and canvas backpacks that held down the corners of the thin fabric. The joyous cheers of the girls seemed to harmonize with the song of the cicadas in the trees; both sounds reminded you of the coming of the summer and the humid weather that makes the air dense.

One of the girls brought out her phone and played loudly from it one of her favorite songs which she knew every word too, regardless of the fact that her tone was far from the singer’s.

You and your friends never cared much for how others would view you. Even at school when you would march through the hallways arm-and-arm, others would stare at the way that none of you batted an eye at those who would glare.

They were just jealous was all.

“Be careful!!” You found yourself scolding, “What if you fall running around like that?”

In response, your friends promptly stuck out their tongues in your general direction.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryujin coolly popped another cherry into her mouth from the bowl by her crossed legs. “If they fall, let them! It's funnier that way.”

She threw a wink right at you, which you almost didn’t catch because you had quickly averted your eyes to become much more interested in the tiny tea-cakes.

“You’re always worrying Y/n! Its summer!”

“I-I do not.”

Ryujin chuckled in that way that always made you feel like your heart was just about ready to leap out of your chest.

“Lighten up! Come on!”

Before you could process it all, your friend patted down the wrinkles in her skirt and threw off her shoes. She rose, and neared your corner of the blanket with hands outstretched.

“Stop worrying about things or if people are watching!” She scolded you with a cute and tiny pout, “Get up!” Ryujin wriggled her hands with emphasis to show you that you could take hold of them.

“W-what…?”

The other girls giggled on, hardly even noticing the two of you over their singing.

You grabbed onto her hands, already loathing how damp your own felt against hers out of your own nervousness. She still held onto you tightly, saying nothing of them and helped you to your feet. Immediately she brightened once you played along and started to swing your arms in tune with the song. Your friend lip synced to the rap part and you felt just about ready to swoon from how cool she looked saying the words with ease.

“Dance with me!! Don’t pay attention to people walking by or anything like that!”

Ryunjin led you by the hand to the patch of grass with little white and pink flowers laced into it. You really did try to pay attention to dancing, but everything else seemed to be distracting even when you tried hard enough. She brought your hand up higher to spin her, and when she twisted, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the billow of her plaid shirt, her rosy-pink hair which swiped just at her shoulders, even the way that the sunset melted behind her into swirls of sunburst yellow and vibrant orange. It was like she was all a part of it.

“Your turn!” She said, twisting you too.

You didn’t realize that you would have been as dizzied by it as you were, but when you lost your footing, she was just as quick to help you with her hands carefully grasped onto your shoulders.

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, out of breath, but still genuine.

“I’m fine!”

Your knees wobbled with barely any strength to them, but you mustered every bit of confidence that you had to keep being this close to her. You surprised yourself when you reached back for her hands to continue swinging them between you.

The other girls collapsed back onto the blanket in a pile of shallow exhales and airy laughs that they exchanged between them.

“No more dancing, I-I can’t do any more…” One of them announced while leaning against the shoulder of another one of your friends.

“I forgot! I brought this!!” One of your friends with pigtail braids dove deeply into her backpack and pulled out nearly all of the contents before finding the small cube-case which was decorated with an obscene amount of keychains. “My camera! We have to take some pictures so that we can remember this!”

The other girls squealed in agreement and ganged up on her to fit into the frame of the white Polaroid camera that she had also splattered with stickers.

“Here, I wanna show you something.” Ryujin drew your attention back to the blanket where she settled back down with her own bag draped over her legs.

“What is it?”

“Ryujinnie! I wanna take your picture too! Your pink hair is so pretty…” One of your friends cooed with a sad downturn to her lips, “I hope that you never change it.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. We’ll see. My cousin has been saying that she wants to see what I would look like blonde these days.”

The small talk didn’t concern you too much, you were more concerned with what it was that your friend had to show you.

“I’m going on a trip with my cousins soon so we’ll see what happens.”

Your friend sighed, and skipped over the mess of the blanket to pull Ryujin by the wrist to the walkway a little farther off. “You’d look so cute over here!”

She pardoned her, and stumbled after the eager girl to let her take a Polaroid of her. Even from far away, you could still hear the two of them admire the picture with happy little expressions of “ah! I told you that it would look good!”

The two girls returned, and you began to worry if your friend even remembered what she had said in the first place.

What is it? What does she want to show me?

“Shoot!!” Another one of your friends huffed out while looking at her phone, “I forgot that I have to tutor the middle schoolers today!! I’m late!!”

The girls went to action in a mere matter of seconds sweeping up the picnic assortment and shoving the leftovers into their backpacks.

You helped them and tried to look over to your other friend who didn’t return your glances. Perhaps she really had forgotten.

You let your imagination run wild for just a few moments, although the more that you did, the more it all just seemed preposterous. Maybe it was a confession letter, maybe she had written for you one of those poems like she had liked to do, maybe she had rather wanted to talk to you about something...say something that you wanted to say back…

“I’m going to stick around.” Ryunjin said suddenly with her hands on her hips. “Y/n, you’re welcome to stay too if you want. We don’t exactly have to go home yet since the sun’s still up.”

Your friends looked to you for your answer, to which you stammered out an, “O-okay…” The best that you could.

“See you later!!” They called after with their shoes only half-slid onto their feet.

You waved them off, but the farther that they walked away, the more the realization started to hit you that you were alone with her. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you calmed it trying to think about anything else but the fact that now her attention was truly undivided upon you.

“You said that you wanted to show me something?”

Your friend nodded, and patted the grass beside her for you to join her. She gathered up the small bundle of cherries left behind and positioned them into her lap.

“I learned this trick a little bit ago and I wanted to show you!”

“A trick?”

She nodded, and plucked from one of the crimson berries a stem which she put directly into her mouth.

“What are you doing?!” On the surface, it didn’t seem like the most sanitary thing to do.

Ryunjin stifled a laugh and lightly hit you on the arm to chastise you. “Just wait a minute!”

You watched in your confusion as her face contorted a little, and her eyebrows twisted like she was thinking. Her cheeks puffed a little too, and you could tell that she was doing something with it in her mouth--it was only then when you realized that you had been intensely observing her mouth.

In your embarrassment you threw your eyes in the other direction, but it was no use one you heard her start to giggle at how flustered you had become.

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to look.” She assured you.

“What-what is it?”

“Annnnd done!” Your friend proclaimed proudly and you struggled to meet her again without feeling like your whole face and the tips of your ears were burning up.

Right on the pink of her tongue she had tied the stem into a tiny knot which she displayed proudly.

“You...did that with your tongue?”

“Mm-hm!”

Your hands reduced back to their clammy state, and they found the grass between your own folded legs to find something to do.

“That's...that’s pretty cool…”

“I know right?!”

Back came your friend's little dimples, and this time your chest started to feel like it was swelling with heat.

Stop looking, stop looking…

“I can teach you how to do it some day if you’d like.” Ryujin’s tone dropped lower, and more serious in the way that some had thought to be intimidating. To you, there was nothing more that could make you feel the beat of your own heart more obviously.

“Teach me? How??”

The question felt like a butterfly in your lips, fluttering and ticklish, light and uncertain. You met her eyes the best you could; even though you knew that there was nothing about her that you didn’t already know, or that was threatening.

Your friend tilted her head, inspecting you and the way that you could barely keep your glance away from her lips--stained just a little red from the cherries--then smiled.

“W-what? What is it? Why are you smiling?”

She sighed, and craned forward on one of her hands in the grass, bridging the distance between the two of you to caress down the side of your face, all the way to your jaw with the back of her fingers.

“You’re just too cute.”

“Hm?” Your chest threw itself up and down, and you could thinly feel the breath that tried to fill your lungs when she was this close.

“I just can’t handle it any more.”

“Me?”

Ryunjin nodded, softening her eyes until they were nearly closed, and rid the two of you of all space, leaning over just so you could feel the weight of her chest nearly pressing into yours. At first, she placed the lightest of kisses into you, so light that it barely brushed against your lips, but merely imprinted upon them. She leaned back, leaving you with the ghost of a feeling of her upon you. It felt a bit unfair how fleeting it was, and how she looked at you like that: smug as ever, but as blissful as she always was.

Your breaths tried to make sense of it all, if it had just happened, and what to think of it. As quick as it was, all you could want was to feel it again.

“Ryu--”

She cradled both sides of your face in hers, leaning in with more fervor and parting your lips with hers, leaving you to squeak from the sudden movement. You couldn’t figure out how to kiss back at first, or if you should hold her too. Your head felt like it was spinning in circles from your disbelief when you could taste the tiny tang of the sweet and sour cherries which lingered on her lips. She rubbed her thumbs into your cheeks, and angled you better to let her growing smile paint your own mouth from corner to corner.

At last, you were able to find a rhythm which suited you, and you kissed her right back. She giggled at your stroke of confidence and the vibrations made your whole body tingle. Your feet had surely fallen asleep where you had folded them beside you, but the numb feeling of them dissolved once her hands fell to your shoulder where she held to you tightly. The pressure from the tips of her fingers made you shiver, and you too smoothed down the pink shine of her hair.

The warm and ticklish feeling of her tongue grazed your lower lip where she changed her approach and deepened her kiss. The heat of tongues finally met in the middle testing and learning more of the other the closer that you became, and tiny airy gasps got stuck between both of your curiosity. In your lap, her hands found yours and they laced together and held tight; each digit wrapping the other and becoming one with the eagerness of her thumb rubbing little circles into the squishy parts of your hand.

After the heat of your passion started to melt, you found yourself hiding your giddy laughter the best you could once she started to peck at your lips over and over until you felt like she had kissed you so close to the brim that you would overflow.

“I said that you’re cute and I mean it!” She snuck the phrase in between a couple more kisses, eliciting you to fold up in your giddy embarrassment from the compliment.

Ryunjin pulled away, and popped another cherry into her mouth from the bundle, then threw her arms around your shoulders. You simply let your hands rest in her lap covered by the plaid of her skirt; shaking from the release of the endorphins and the adrenaline.

“Ryujin...I wanted to tell you that I’ve had a crush on you for a...really long time…” You shied, but she brought your chin back to look at her directly.

“Good. Me too.”

You couldn’t even process the combination of her words for them to make sense. White noise filled your ears, even though it should have been obvious from the way that she had kissed you like that.

“Oh! Here. I wanted to give this to you too. Something to remember me by.”

She reached for her bag, and pulled out a white-out pen from the front pocket. The Polaroid had faded into its full color, and she focused with her tongue peeking from her mouth as she wrote the message:

see you soon <3

- ryujinnie

Over her head in the picture, she doodled a few hearts, then she blew on the ink to dry it.

“For you!”

You took the picture with your hands still thoroughly shaking, and all you could utter was a “thanks” while you took in your friend looking as gorgeous as she always was. You knew then that you would treasure the image forever, and the day which it was taken.

“Who knows,” Ryujin started, and let her head fall to your shoulder where she nuzzled in, “This might be the last that you’ll see of my pink hair too.”

You turned the picture over, already sensing how it made your heart feel like it was aching sticky and sweet, just like the cherries.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @dom--minnie @waterthemoon @pastelracha @mistakensilence @hotgorloikawa @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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illyaana · 3 years ago

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Cursive Ink - Yamaguchi Tadashi

Collab: Pain Tolerance by @haikyutiehoe

Thanks for making this collab, hun! the idea of pierced and/or tatted anime characters got me squealing~! Do check out the other works involved in the collab in the link up there~

Tags: Yamaguchi's POV, Angst, Fluff, Yamaguchi x Tattoo Artist! Reader, Binaural

Synopsis: Love never really goes the way we plan it to be - and Yamaguchi was no exception. His failed confession to his former best friend left him heartbroken. However, his decision to go to a tattoo parlour may have been the best (and craziest) choice he's ever made in his life. (I also believe Yamaguchi is pansexual, so don't get so confused XD)

Word Count: 2552

A bit of context: In Japanese, 'Yama' means mountain, 'Tsuki' means the Moon

⋯⋯ ⫍ Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Want to get a personalized drabble about your love life with an anime character you like? Check out my 50 followers event's post here! You can choose any character from BNHA, Haikyu!!, AOT, JJK and Kuroko no Basketball <3

“Yamaguchi, no,” Tsukishima said, pulling his hand away from my hand.

“Why are you lying to yourself? I know you feel the same way, Tsuki - don’t lie to yourself.”

“I don’t, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima said, eyes turning cold, “I am not gay - I am a straight, heterosexual male. I love women and women only.”

Lies.

You are lying to me.

You are in love with me.

You are already mine, Tsuki - just wake up and see it.

I know you can.

what was that kiss under the tree when we were kids?” I whispered, not wanting my voice to break, “If you never loved me, why kiss me, Tsuki?”

“We both agreed that it was a mistake, didn’t we?” The blonde male said, anger rising, “We both agreed - not just me.”

I said yes - I know I did.

That doesn’t mean I meant it.

You know me, Tsuki - I’ll agree to everything you’ll say.

Why aren’t you realising it?

I’ve waited for so many years for you to ask me out, but you never did.

I’m here, right in front of you, asking you to be mine - just say yes.

I don’t want to wait anymore - it’s too painful.

“I lied, okay?!” I scream, “I loved you ever since we were kids, Tsuki. I want to be the one you come back to when you leave, the only one you kiss, the only one you hug, the only one you dream about - I want to be that to you. Is that so hard to believe?!”

I hugged myself, not wanting to break down anymore.

That small hug was the only thing stopping me from letting all hell break loose.

I had kept this in ever since I knew Tsuki - ever since he saw him in that park.

I knew everything about the tall male. The way he smiles, the way he hides his anger when he wants to be respectful, his secret love for dinosaurs, his soft side, his small quirks - I knew it all like the back of his hand.

I knew what he needed to be the middle blocker’s lover, and I was willing to sacrifice myself to be the best thing for Tsuki.

One thing was clear in my head; Tsuki felt the exact same way.

“Yamaguchi, I’m sorry. I don’t love you the way you want me to,” Tsukishima said, kneeling beside the green-haired male.

“I don’t believe that.”

I forced his lips on Tsukishima’s.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorise how the lines of his soft and pale lips felt on his - how it softly caressed my lips without even responding to the intimate kiss I was trying to initiate.

I felt Tsukishima trying to push me away, but I didn’t let go of the male’s collar.

He already took my first kiss - what is the difference if I took another?

The second our lips left each other’s, Tsukishima punched my nose.

Blood dripped from my nose, but I couldn’t care less.

“Don’t you fucking call me Tsuki ever again, dumbass. Better yet, don’t call me.”

My last day of high school ended with blood and tears, but the pain in my heart from losing my best friend hurt more.

⁜

I stared at the stars, lying down in the little treehouse we made as kids in my backyard.

I tried to cry it all out, but I couldn’t.

I feel cheated by you, Tsukishima Kei.

You made me make you my everything.

My voice was tuned to calm you down.

My hands we moulded to keep you warm.

My life was made to keep you safe, but you don’t need me to be you.

But I do - I need you to be me.

One-sided crushes are the worst form of love, aren’t they?

You give it all for that one person - to please and cherish them.

They just think it’s just a form of showing how strong your friendship is, but you want more.

You are the only one who wants more.

You are the one crying at night about how you wished they were by your side.

You are the one craving for their touch.

You want them, but they don’t want you.

I don’t care about you bruising my face, Tsukishima-san.

I care about you fucking me up like this.

I will no longer wait for your messages.

I will no longer look at your tweets and be the only one giving reactions.

I will erase you from my narrative, Tsukishima-san.

You can wonder about how much you’ve hurt me when I have reached somewhere you can’t even touch me.

⁜

“You are absolutely sure about this, right?” Hinata said, worry laced in his words.

I open the doors to the tattoo parlour and I was instantly mesmerized. The walls were filled with such intricate designs - sizes ranging from as small as a finger to as big as my whole body. The smell of fresh ink slowly hit me, reminding me of my schooling years.

“I am sure, Hinata. I was planning to do this ever since I was small, either way. I just wished it was under better circumstances,” I reply, eyes locked on all the flower motifs.

I always wanted a tattoo - it didn’t matter how big or small it was. I always thought of how beautiful the idea was - to have something permanently inked on your skin to remind you of who you were. Flowers drew with such hidden meaning, curved lines speaking words of poetry, ideas brought into life - tattoos are an artist’s masterpiece meant to paint on my skin as a canvas.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind waiting here with you - “

“Weren’t you supposed to meet up with Kageyama later today?” I remind him, chuckling.

“That man is late for everything. I think he can handle me coming late for once.”

“I’m seriously okay, Hinata! Go get ready, I’ll send a picture when it’s done,” I say as I push him out of the shop.

“Okay, okay - make sure to send me that picture!” He said as he ran out of the shop.

Why follow me if you’re itching to leave?

“That friend of yours has really bright orange hair - is it dyed or natural?” I hear someone say.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

“Oh - uh- um- It’s natural,” I say, forming some space between us.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

You tied half of your hair in a small bun, showing me the small, intricate designs on your neck. Flowers decorated your soft skin, moving down under your shirt’s sleeve. Small golden piercings decorated your ears. They were encrusted with gems of various colours that shifted under the soft lighting gracing your skin.

You looked so beautiful I couldn’t stop staring.

“So, do you have an appointment?” You asked, breaking my train of thought.

“N- no.”

Stop stuttering, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“First time, huh?” you smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The pain is different for everyone, but I think you can handle it.”

“T-Thanks.”

God, stop stuttering.

“God, you’re cute,” you laughed while looking at my frazzled face, “Don’t worry, my dearest client - you’re in capable hands. Come - let’s discuss your design, shall we?”

You grabbed my wrist and brought me to your corner, leaving me blushed mess.

Cute.

They called me cute.

I’m breathing, right?

Okay, I’m breathing.

As we were walking, I got to see the back of your neck - more specifically, a part of your tattoo.

It was a blossoming rose - a huge one. It had vines that grew from it, encircling your whole neck, moving down your shirt and reaching the tips of your fingers. Smaller roses grew from it, branching even smaller vines surrounded by leaves.

I wanted to know the story behind that tattoo. It looked so beautiful yet so dark. The thorns that came from certain vines alarmed me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. My attention was brought to your piercings - more specifically, the design of the encrusted jewels. They were flowers, as well. In the middle of each jewel held a line of gold that branched out, just like the vines of your tattoo.

“Oh, you’re looking at my tattoo and piercings, aren’t you?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, worried.

You laughed.

“Of course it’s fine. Who would get a tattoo and not prepare for all the staring? Not going to lie, here - these piercings and that tattoo help me fuel my ego. After all, everyone’s staring at them,” you joke, playing with your hair.

You sit on your chair, pointing at the one opposite you.

“What are you waiting for? Sit.”

⁜

“So, you want some small vines surrounding a moon, right?” You ask as you brought out your tablet.

“Yeah, on my middle finger.”

I had enough of his little orders - I’ll twist his words into something much more meaningful. If the Moon isn’t willing to dance with the mountains, let the vines make the Moon feel the mountain’s pain from its rejection.

“That sounds really pretty,” you say, smiling at me, “Give me a minute - I’ll do a rough sketch and you can tell me if it’s to your liking.”

You took out the tablet’s pen tool and began to sketch. I eyed your eyes as you continued to sketch what would be my tattoo.

Thanks to the light from the tablet, I could see a part of another tattoo hidden under your shirt.

It was multiple birds flying across your collarbones, but there was one bird that moved to your neck. It was a smaller bird - much, much smaller. However, its wings were bigger - bigger than the other birds’.

“My family isn’t very appreciative of my more artistic side,” you began, knowing I wanted to know the story behind it.

“I love art - all types of art. Writing, drawing, painting - I loved how you could make a whole new world just with a few lines. My family…” you paused, “As much as they loved me, they couldn’t see a world where I could make a living from it. They tried to throw away this side of me, but the more they pushed it away, the more I needed it.”

You raised your tablet, showing me your sketch.

I loved it.

It was a crescent moon, wrapped in vines. Vines grew both upwards and below, accompanied by stars. Small buds were growing from the ends of the vines, leaves surrounding them.

I don’t know how you did it, but you captured all I felt about him in a few minutes - it astounded me.

“I took a few creative liberties, but-”

“It’s amazing - don’t change it.”

You’re amazing.

You smiled, getting off your chair.

“Head to that room,” you pointed to the smaller room right beside us, “I’ll get all the tools ready.”

⁜

“You ready?” you said, placing the pen right above my middle finger.

Why did I choose my middle finger for my first tattoo? It’s literally right on a bone, it’s going to hurt like hell.

“I guess…” I whisper.

“It won’t be that painful - trust me. People overexaggerate,” you say, trying to calm me down.

People weren’t overexaggerating - it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

I bit my lip, holding back the scream on the end of my lips.

“Hold on,” you said, removing the pen.

You soon came back with candy and began to unwrap it.

“Open your mouth, my liege.”

After chuckling, I opened my mouth and you plopped the sweet in my mouth.

Ooh, mango.

“Focus on the sweet, okay?” You said, patting my back.

It felt less painful, surprisingly. Focusing on the sweet rolling in my mouth helped reduce the pain significantly.

I raised my head slightly so that I could see your intense focus on my finger. You were biting on your lower lip as you slowly moved the pen on my finger, following the temporary tattoo you made earlier as a guide. You were annoyed by a strand of your hair that refused to stay behind on your ear - your anger-filled expression said it all.

Using my other hand, I pushed it behind your ear to help you focus.

A soft thank you came from you as you continued.

Blood rushed to my cheeks the minute those words left your lips.

So cute.

“You didn’t finish your story…” I asked, trying to end the awkward silence.

“It was that interesting to you?” you smiled.

You’re interesting, Y/N.

I nod.

“I asked them if I could draw again. I didn’t want to lose that skill I finetuned all my life - it felt so wrong. They thought I’d never succeed in life if I focused on ‘these useless hobbies’ and shouted at me. I remember crying for hours, but they didn’t care,” you say as you turn off the pen, wiping the tip.

“I began to spend more hours in school just so that I could scribble and draw. They’d never know what I did there - all the drawings I did, all the stories I wrote, all the songs I sang. I am not like my parents. I strayed from the thought of ‘art is useless’- I am the bird moving away from the flock,” you said, turning your chair towards me.

“Why did they hate art? It’s something that makes you happy - If it’s something you like, you should do it,” I said, slightly pissed.

Thank God they didn’t listen to them.

“Best part - they have paintings all over the house,” you snickered.

You sighed, stretching your arms in the process.

“I don’t really care about their opinion about it, anyway. I’m no longer under their wing - I’m my own person. I get money by doing the thing I love, and that’s so fulfilling. The only thing they’re paying for right now is my college education - that’s it,” you said as you pressed a wet cloth to my new tattoo.

“Wait - we’re the same age?”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled.

“I expected you to be way older,” I say, embarrassed.

“I am utterly offended, sir,” you say, feigning sadness.

“Come on!” I say, laughing.

“I am expecting a tip,” you say, walking towards the door.

You’re amazing, Y/N. I just wish I met you earlier…

⁜

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Yamaguchi Tadashi,” you say, closing the cash register in front of you.

“And I you, my friend.”

I walk to the door, gripping on the door handle.

I want you in my life, Y/N. Even if we spent just a few hours together, you’ve made me so happy. If you are open to the idea, I want to be friends with you - and who knows? We might become something…

I walk back to the cashier.

“Oh, did I forget something?” You ask, worried.

“No, no…”

Come on, say it.

“Hey, wanna exchange numbers? I wanna hang out with you - of course, only if you want to,” you say smiling.

Holy shit.

“Yes, please.”

You held back your laugh the minute you saw my face.

How many times have I made you laugh just by you looking at my face?

“Here’s my number,” you passed me your card, “Message me so that I get your number, too!”

“Okay!” I smile.

Holy shit. I did it.

“See you again, ‘guchi.”

⁜

76 notes · View notes

pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

Beneath Each Other's Bones

My fic entry for @eskelbigbang <3

Please also check out @drachedraws two amazing pieces of art that they made for this fic!

Relationship Tags: Eskel/Geralt

Character Tags: Eskel, Geralt, Lambert, Vesemir, Lil' Bleater

Other Tags: smut, established relationship, oral and anal intercourse (m/m), some very soft smut. what can i say.

Summary: Winter at Kaer Morhen can be brutal. But Eskel and Geralt find warmth in each other in an effort to stave off the cold.

The stones of Kaer Morhen sighed as the sun rose over the winter-frosted valley. The birds and harpies had long since traveled south for the cooler months, and the draconids had nestled themselves in the depths of the mountains around the aging keep. The castle itself was full of its Witchers, who were patiently waiting for the first snowfall to blanket their surroundings in layers of quiet white . With the last witcher having finally arrived a few evenings prior, the pack were all finally able to rest peacefully with the knowledge that all were safe.

The first thing that Geralt felt was cold. His nose, the tips of his ears. The rest of him was encompassed in warmth, but the chill rudely nipped him awake, undaunted by his furry woollen fortress. He squinted one eye open with a grimace, finding his bedroom washed in the cool sunlight that streamed in from the window. It was still early. The morning sun had barely breached the horizon. Lambert would still be snoozing away, cocooned in the safety of a warm and familiar bed, but Vesemir would likely already be down in the kitchen preparing for the day.

Geralt’s ears, barely poking out from under his blanket, picked up the steady thunks of wood being chopped, and he grunted as he sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist. His chest was bare, pale, scarred skin reluctantly exposed to the early winter air as the witcher roused himself. Still sitting in his bed, he turned and scooted to the windowsill, peering at the courtyard below.

Ah, fuck. Geralt’s morning arousal became actively invested in the sight that met him. Eskel had a stack of freshly chopped logs at his side, with one propped up atop a large stone. Geralt could see his muscles strain against the thin linen of his shirt as he swung the sharp ax high over his head, its honed edge glinting with the emergence of the sun as it met its apex, only to fall again with breathtaking force. The log split in two, and Eskel gathered the halves off to the side, stacking them neatly with the others on a long piece of thick canvas with handles on either end.

The ax found a resting spot for a moment as Eskel wiped the sweat from his brow. Geralt set his chin in his hands and his elbows on the edge of the windowsill and held in a low groan. Eskel had reached for the neck of his tunic and lifted it up over his head, revealing the olive-toned flesh of his stomach and the dark curls of hair over his chest that drew a delicious line below the band of his trousers. It was clear he’d been the first to return to Kaer Morhen. A comfortable roll of belly fat protruded from the confines of his belt, proof he’d had plenty of time to rest and indulge over the past weeks. His skin shone with perspiration and his thighs flexed and pushed at the fabric when he lifted another heavy log onto the chopping stone. Hells, the haphazard seam of one of the trouser legs was coming loose as his thigh threatened to free itself.

Eskel breathed in and swung again, driving the ax all the way through the thick log in a single stroke. As the two halves hit the ground he turned, dropping the ax and facing the little patch of green that remained before the frost. Lil’ Bleater was happily bounding through the grass, pouncing off of crates and rubble like it was her sole duty in life. Eskel smiled wide as Geralt did the same from his perch. The sun glinted off of Eskel’s back, dancing over the drops of sweat that dripped into the hollows of his muscles. Geralt swallowed thickly, unable to look away when Eskel’s arms came up to sweep the hair out of his face. The muscles of his shoulders and down the line of his spine flexed and shifted beneath his olive skin as he moved his hands to his hips.

“Alright, Bleats,” Eskel laughed as she came bounding over to his feet. He leaned down and offered a few sweet pats to the top of her head, “Think we’ve given Geralt enough of a show?”

He glanced over his shoulder with a cheeky grin to where Geralt was watching from the window, jaw agape and gobsmacked. The goat bleated as Eskel turned back and waved, and Geralt truly couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face if he tried.

“Fuckin’ tease,” Geralt grumbled half-heartedly as he watched Eskel drape his tunic back over his head. He was picking up the straps to the carrier for the firewood when Geralt finally tore himself away from the window, willing himself calm.

It only took a moment of deep breathing and a lifetime’s worth of practice, but Geralt soon found himself presentable to pleasant company. He threw on his usual winter attire, soft trousers and an even softer loose-fitting tunic tucked into the waist of his pants, his lined boots, and his cloak thrown over his shoulder. He tied his hair back off his face and let the rest hang on his shoulders in long silver waves. Finally, Geralt grabbed his swords and scabbards before heading down the stairs to the small kitchen space.

As expected, Vesemir was there with a steaming mug, poring over a book that was almost certainly older than Geralt himself.. He grabbed an apple and plopped down on the bench next to Vesemir, the both of them wordlessly grunting a greeting at the other. Geralt ate in relative silence for a bit, only the latent thrumming of the older Witcher’s heart and the crackling of embers in the fire accompanying the crunch of apple between his teeth.

That is, until Eskel butted open the doors to the hall and dragged his firewood haul in with him. Lil’ Bleater was riding the pile of wood like a pirate would her ship, the stack being almost as high as Eskel’s shoulders. Speaking of Eskel’s shoulders, Geralt couldn’t tear his eyes away from the visible line of sweat that trailed its way down his back, darkening the linen of his shirt and making it stick in all the most tempting places. He felt his mouth water at the sight and the piece of apple still in his mouth felt thick and hard as he choked it down.

Eskel grunted as he got close enough to the fireplace to relinquish his load, letting the heavy pieces fall haphazardly as he dropped the canvas sheet. The apple slipped from Geralt’s hand and bounced on the table before falling to the floor. “Dammit,” he growled, pointedly ignoring the disappointed sigh that escaped Vesemir’s nostrils.

He picked the fruit up and dusted it off, slicing off another piece as Eskel approached the table. Eskel smelled...like he needed a bath. Salt and sweat clung to his skin and wood dusted the strands of his hair, but he still carried that deep, musky, earthy scent that shone with a hint of citrus. It was the scent that kept Geralt awake at night, kept him sane on the Path. It was everything.

Eskel reached over and plucked a handful of dried fruits and nuts, as well as the jar of honey. He dropped the fruits and nuts into a bowl and carefully swirled a generous portion of honey over top. His fingers shone with the golden, sticky sweetness as he grabbed a dried grape and popped it between his lips. The scar turned his mouth upwards at the edge and pulled oddly at his lip while he ate. Geralt remembered how long it took for Eskel to be comfortable eating in front of him again after he got that scar, and he treasures every moment that he gets to see.

“Geralt?” Vesemir peered over his mug at him.

Geralt hummed in response, already dreading the day’s assignment.

“Oh don’t give me that. I need you to go out and put salt on the training grounds before the dirt frosts, and freshen up the wards around it. I don’t need the goats going in and licking it all up again. After that, the day’s yours.”

“And me?” Eskel asked around his mouthful.

“You can be done, you’ve already chopped enough wood to last us a good few weeks. I’ll get Lambert to-”

“NO. Don’t go giving my assignments before I even get to the table, old fart,” Lambert called down the stairwell.

Vesemir blinked slowly and sighed once more. “I’ll get Lambert to do SOMETHING ELSE today, though if you want something to keep busy, I’m sure there are some books that need rebinding.”

Geralt watched Eskel nod and swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Yeah, alright. I may take some time later and see what I can do about those books. Lay them out for me?”

“Of course.”

Eskel smiled over at Geralt, his deep amber eyes meeting Geralt’s sunrise gold. Geralt’s moon and stars rested in those eyes, a whole universe tucked away in the depths of Eskel’s soul, bared just for him. They smiled at each other before Geralt tore himself away, draping his cloak over his shoulders and striding quietly towards the door.

Eskel watched him haul the heavy bag of salt up onto his shoulder with a grunt. He shook his head with a smile and polished off the last of his breakfast. The stool scraped on the floor as he pushed away from the table, ready to go fall into a warm bed somewhere. Eskel heard the door shut from Lambert’s room as his feet pounded down the stairs, so he made haste in avoiding that breakfast discussion.

***

Why’s Geralt back outside?

Eskel rounded the corner of the staircases, following the fresh scent of Geralt trailing out to the courtyard. It was far past noon by this point, and Geralt had already taken care of the training grounds. He had come back in right as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, climbing the spiral stairs in search of a snack.

Eskel shouldered open the heavy wooden doors and turned to the east, following the light footprints over the balding grass. He smiled to himself as he heard soft whispers coming from the stables, low and not meant for anothers’ ears. Well, another human’s ears.

He stopped just short of the doors, now close enough to make out the words being murmured.

“-n’t give me that look, I was just wanting to braid your mane.” Geralt’s honeyed tenor drifted over the heartbeats and huffed breaths behind the stall. “I know Eskel doesn’t normally do it, but it’ll help keep it from matting over the winter. I bet you’d hate for our big softie to have to cut off old chunks of your mane, wouldn’t you?”

Eskel heard Scorpion huff heavily from his nose and he chuckled, pulling on the cool steel handle and closing the door behind him. The whispers stopped as Geralt peered over the short wall between the stalls, his hair shimmering golden with the light of the fire roaring in the fireplace. He held a hardy brush in his right hand and had his other resting lightly on Scorpion’s flank, and his hair was tied up high and away from his face.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Eskel rumbled, crossing to where he could see into Scorpion’s stall. He let his back hit the wall behind him and slid down, his bottom thumping audibly onto the ground.

“Just gonna sit there and watch me?” Geralt grumbled, resuming his brushing of Scorpion’s mane. The great warhorse stamped his foot impatiently, butting his head into Geralt’s chest.

Eskel quirked his brow and nodded, “Figured you wouldn’t mind after you ogled me this morning.”

The tips of Geralt’s ears flushed a pretty pink as he hummed noncommittally in his chest. Not denying it.

“Your man’s a smartass,” Geralt mumbled to Scorpion, and the horse fucking snickered, I shit you not.

“Ay,” Eskel laughed, watching a little smile threaten to pull at Geralt’s lips, “no need to turn my horse against me, I’ll need him come Spring.”

“Don’t wanna talk about Spring,” Geralt sighed, carefully running his fingers, long and delicate, so unlike Eskel’s, through the wispy strands of Scorpion’s mane.

“Me neither.” Eskel pulled up his knees and rested his elbows atop them, his eyes drifting down Geralt’s body. Gods, but he’s so gorgeous.

If you asked him, Eskel would say that he couldn’t pick a favorite part of his Geralt. Everything was his favorite, it was impossible to choose. But Eskel did have a favorite, and he very well kept it to himself, thank you very much.

That damned waist. The way that Geralt’s shoulders, broad and sharp, sloped in and down over his stomach and into a glorious handful for Eskel. Nothing about Geralt was dainty, not in the slightest, but Eskel loved that he could wrap his arm over the soft line of his waist in the dead of night, or grasp desperately onto it while lost in the throes of passion.

Eskel sat there quietly, listening to Geralt mumble to Scorpion while he busied his hands. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the idle sounds of the castle and nearby woods overtake his mind and senses. He could hear Lambert’s heavy footfalls from beneath the castle, down in the labs. A pack of wolves patrolled the treeline past the castle walls, jaws snapping as they called to each other under the low afternoon sun.

He heard Geralt’s footsteps grow close to him, stopping just where Eskel’s hips met the floor. Geralt’s fingers brushed gently through Eskel’s thick, dark hair and Eskel couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that spilled from his lips. Geralt chuckled and knelt at his side, running his hand down Eskel’s cheek and thumbing over the line of his brow.

“I know you went down to the springs and got clean earlier,” Geralt rumbled lowly, “but maybe you’d want to join me for a bit?”

Eskel smiled and opened his eyes, two golds meeting and melding into one. He nodded and Geralt leaned down, pressing their foreheads together. Geralt reached and grabbed onto Eskel’s hand, pulling him to stand and brushing the stray bits of straw from his backside.

Eskel chuckled as he batted Geralt’s hand away, though not before he got a solid squeeze in edgewise. “Hey, if you wanted to touch my ass, all you had to do was ask.”

Geralt shrugged as they walked through the doors to the castle and down the center spiral staircase that led to the hot springs, “I always want to touch your ass. Doesn’t really matter.”

Eskel shook his head and laughed heartily as he felt the air change. It felt thick, musty, warm with minerals and moss that grew in sharp brushstrokes up the walls. His lungs filled with the comfort of home, the air that was unique to this one spot of the castle, and only ever really meshed with his soul when Geralt was around to share in it.

He watched Geralt peel his shirt from his body, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dim caverns lit only by the stray candle or two sporadically placed in the cracks of the stones. Eskel reached out, his hand guided only by the raw urge to touch, to feel Geralt’s skin yield under his fingers, and he felt the warmth before he even made contact.

Geralt’s sigh tingled under his fingertips, vibrating through his bones with a summer long lost. Eskel stood flush to Geralt’s back, his hand resting over Geralt’s heart and his neck bent to rest his forehead at the nape of Geralt’s neck. He invaded Eskel’s every sense, every fiber of his being, just by existing in the same space. He smelled of sweat and horse and hay and happiness and home, and Eskel just wanted to...breathe him in. To take him into his lungs and never let him go. He felt Geralt’s fingers intertwine with his where they rested on Geralt’s chest, long and thin and pulling him up to Geralt’s lips. His lips were cool and chapped from the chill outside, but Eskel felt the warmth being pulled from his soul into the sweet press of Geralt’s lips.

“C’mon, let’s get into the baths,” Geralt mumbled, his lips still pressing into the pads of Eskel’s fingers. Eskel hummed noncommittally, honestly fine with just standing here, Geralt in his arms and close enough to finally feel. Geralt turned and stepped back, just out of Eskel’s reach with a grin as he reached for the ties on his trousers. “I’d like to get clean before I die of old age, so you best get naked.”

Eskel smirked and shucked his own shirt to the side, undoing the bright ties on his codpiece and letting the thick leather fall away. His trousers fell and were kicked away with his boots and the air embraced his skin with a welcoming grasp. He padded towards the pools, slipping into the water with a grateful sigh that one would expect from the sight of a long-lost friend.

He peeked over his shoulder and found Geralt standing where he was left, mouth slack-jawed and his hands hovering with his trousers half-undone. Geralt blinked and cleared his throat, adjusting himself through the leather of his trousers before untying them the rest of the way and letting them fall away. “I...it always surprises me just how much I can forget…”

Eskel crooked his head as Geralt stepped into the water beside him, rippling the waves over and up the stone sides. “What do you mean?”

“Just...you,” Geralt murmured, dipping under the water to soak his hair, “you are always so much more...real than I can ever keep in my mind. Whenever I think of you, it always pales in comparison to actually seeing you in front of me.”

Eskel felt his cheeks flush and he smiled, running his damp hands through his hair before lounging back into the edge of the pool. “I can never really get how you feel right. I know how good it makes me feel, but actually touching you? Or hearing your heart? My brain can’t replicate that. Not well enough, anyway.”

“Exactly. And it always is a bit of a shock. But a good one.” Geralt soaped up his hair quickly, batting away Eskel’s hands when he tried to help. “No, I want to get this part out of the way so we can relax. We can do that next time.”

Eskel thought back to a couple of winters prior, when Geralt had requested that he wash his hair for him. Albeit, with a bit of a caveat. Eskel spent an hour washing Geralt’s long, thick silver locks with his cock buried to the hilt in Geralt’s ass, the both of them gasping and clinging onto each other by the time his hair was rinsed. Eskel smiled at the memory as Geralt ducked back under the water, leaving his hair dripping wet and free of suds.

Geralt peered over at Eskel with a smirk playing at his lips as he reached his hand for Eskel’s thigh. He felt the muscle tense briefly under his fingers as he moved up slowly, his other hand sliding up and onto Eskel’s neck. Eskel sighed gently, a pull of air from deep in his lungs as Geralt played with the little curls of hair on the nape of his neck. Geralt’s hand moved over his hip, warm and soft and just a tad squishy beneath the water, and splayed over his stomach, tracing idle swirls through the hair that led down to his groin. Before he could get far, though, Eskel caught his errant hand with his own and brought them to his lips.

“We should eat first,” Eskel rumbled, his lips brushing the sensitive tips of Geralt’s fingers with every whispered word, “then I’d like to take you to bed properly.”

“Hmm,” Geralt traced down the scars on Eskel’s cheek and into his lip, watching the tiniest little shudder shoot over his nerves, “Lambert cooking tonight?”

Eskel nodded and ran his hands down Geralt’s spine and the swell of his backside. Not pushing or pulling with any direction, just feeling the skin that he so craved, even in his sleep. Geralt bent down, just barely pressing his forehead into Eskel’s and brushing their noses together. “You’ve kept me waiting all day,” Geralt sighed with a smile, “I suppose I could wait a bit longer. Not much though.”

Eskel chuckled and pecked Geralt on the cheek, “I promise. Once we’re both warm and comfortable and full, then I’ll take you upstairs and show you just how much I’ve needed you.”

“If you don’t let me go now, there’s no way I’ll be able to stop myself,” Geralt growled and nipped at Eskel’s chin. Eskel laughed and playfully shoved him back, watching the crystalline water drip down the dark hairs over his chest and into the dip of his waist. He had been feeling the stirrings of arousal all day, but it was getting more and more difficult to ignore.

Eskel followed Geralt as he clambered out of the springs, his hands and feet striking roughly against the weathered stone beneath them. He smirked at the quite obvious state of arousal that Geralt was in, his skin flushed and his cock straining upwards from between his thighs.

Geralt could feel Eskel’s eyes on him as he strode towards their pile of clothes and drying sheets. He peeked over his shoulder at him, finding Eskel hauling himself out of the bath with his arms, the muscles dipping and pulling as he rose to his full height, soaked to the bone and sporting a very pretty erection of his own. Geralt’s mouth watered as he wrapped a sheet to hang low on his hips before gathering his worn clothes into a bundle in his arms.

Eskel followed suit, feeling the drafty air whistle through his legs and cool the drips of water that still wore their path down to the floor below. They traveled through the halls together, still shoulder to shoulder even though the walls were just a tad too close together to accommodate them both comfortably. They didn't mind though, drawing their warmth together and letting their souls mingle in the approaching evening.

As they climbed the spiral staircase that led back to the main level of the keep, Eskel could smell the dinner that Lambert had been working on, something with chicken and hearty vegetables, along with bread and fresh butter and citrus chutney. They continued on up the stairs until they reached the door to Eskel’s chambers. They did typically end up sharing the room over the winter, but Geralt still liked to have his own little private space for himself. Eskel knew how loud the world could feel, and he liked having his own space too sometimes.

He kissed Geralt sweetly on the shoulder as he moved to continue up the stairs to his own room, leaving a tingle of his lips to keep him company. Geralt shook his head with a light hearted huff and slowly climbed up the spiral, and Eskel waited until he heard the heavy thud of his thick wooden door to open his own. He threw his clothes onto the chair by the fireplace before flicking his fingers out and up in the sign for Igni, feeling the warmth from the fire bloom from his palm and onto the wood, bathing the room in a pale glow.

Eskel dressed quickly, throwing soft trousers over his underthings, followed by a knit shirt that stretched across his chest and held tight. He left his swords propped by the door next to his boots before padding back down the stairs into the dining area. The three fires roared beneath bubbling pots and sizzling pans, sending rich scents swirling softly around the room. Lambert stood over one, giving it one last stir before grabbing onto the handles. Eskel lowered himself onto the bench at the table just as Lambert set the steaming cauldron down onto the nearly-black wood.

Vesemir grabbed the other pan and brought it over, lifting the lid to reveal several chicken breasts that had been seared and seasoned to perfection. Lambert began to ladle some of the stew from his pot onto his plate and tore a chunk of bread for himself before tossing the loaf to Eskel. It was warm in his palm and he smiled, the bread soft and yielding as he tore off some for himself as well. Vesemir declined, so he set the rest of the loaf in Geralt’s spot and began to heap his own plate with Lambert’s delicious looking dinner.

Geralt joined soon after they began to eat, dressed comfortably with his silvery hair pulled up and away from his face. Geralt swung his long legs over the bench and sat down next to Eskel, humming as he picked up the bread.

“Yeah, pretty boy, saved that bit for ya. Dig in before it all gets cold.” Lambert chucked the ladle down in Geralt’s direction, sending stray bits of stew flying to the walls. Vesemir rolled his eyes as Geralt caught it without looking and gave it a spin, rotating it flamboyantly around his fingers before plopping it straight into the great pot.

The four of them ate in relative silence, only the gentle scraping of utensils or grunts of acknowledgement breaking the fragile quiet. Vesemir was the first to be finished with his meal, leaning back in his seat and breathing in deeply. “Delicious as always, Lambert. Thank you. I'm headed to the library, gonna try and go through some of the old tomes.”

Lambert nodded and the others hummed, no one willing to part with their plates quite yet. Eskel wiped his plate down with the remainder of his bread, sopping up the stew and downing it all in one satisfying mouthful. Geralt watched with a raised brow and a smirk.

“Alright lovebirds, I’m off. Try to keep it down, at least a little, huh?” Lambert winked as he stood and wandered off, likely back down to the alchemy labs for more of his...experiments. Eskel chuckled as Geralt lobbed an old apple at the back of Lambert’s head, more for effect than anything else. Lambert batted it away into a corner and Eskel sighed. He stood and retrieved it, knowing that it would be long forgotten if he didn’t. He set it back onto the table before stretching his arms up above his head and turning to the door that led to the staircases.

Eskel held his hand out to Geralt, who looked at it through hooded lids. “Join me?”

Geralt smiled and lept to his feet, the last few bites of his dinner instantly forgotten. “Fuckin’ finally, you tease.”

Eskel laughed as the two of them bumbled up the stairs and into Eskel’s room. Geralt could feel the warmth emanating before they even swung open the door, his cheeks flushing and his arms shivering with the welcome change in temperature. Eskel shut the door behind him and led him to stand before the fireplace, his olive skin glowing in the flames.

Geralt sighed as he felt Eskel’s hands on his hips, his fingers toying with the hem of Geralt’s shirt and just glancing to the skin of his stomach beneath. Eskel slid his hands up and pulled Geralt’s shirt with him, lifting it over his head and letting it land with a soft thud in the cushy armchair in the corner.

Next Eskel moved to Geralt’s trousers, sliding the ties open and letting them fall to the floor. He gave Geralt’s bum a little pat and nodded to the bed. “Go on, I’ll be just behind you.”

Geralt reached to push down his smalls but Eskel caught his hands and dropped them back by his side. “J-just wanna hold you for a bit...that okay?”

Geralt hummed, pressing his lips to the junction between Eskel’s neck and shoulder, “Of course, Wolf. Don’t take too long though, gonna get cold without you.”

Geralt smiled as he climbed onto the wide bed draped in thick furs and soft knit blankets. Eskel loved textures, and tried to surround their bed with as much comfort as he could find. His golden gaze found Eskel once more as he too stripped down to his smallclothes. Geralt leaned back onto the soft pillows as Eskel slid up next to him, resting his head on Geralt’s chest and breathing in deeply. Geralt wrapped his arm around the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders and held him close, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against his side. Geralt could see out of the little window cut into the stone, revealing the sun setting in bright oranges and deep purples between the craggles of the Blue Mountains.

Eskel ran his hands down Geralt’s chest, tracing those same swirling patterns as before while he peppered kisses up and down the line of Geralt’s neck and over his collarbone. Geralt could always feel the little crook in Eskel’s lip from his scar as it traced over his skin, grounding him home in warm arms and soft eyes that held endless love and patience.

Geralt threaded his fingers into Eskel’s hair and gave a little scratch at the nape of his neck, chuckling a bit when he felt the full body shudder that Eskel granted him. Geralt felt the gasp of hot breath ghost over his collar when he tugged gently on the handful of hair that he had, and a possessive kind of growl erupted from behind his teeth. Geralt didn’t often let this part of himself show, this need to hang onto every thread of his partner, but with Eskel, it felt safe, known, instinctual.

Eskel pushed himself up and pressed his hand firmly in the center of Geralt’s chest, breathing with the steady thuds of the heart that rested just beneath his fingers. Eskel’s eyes were dark with lust and hunger and something so deep and innate that it escaped such a simple name. Eskel slid his hand up and wrapped it gently around the back of Geralt’s neck and leaned down, pressing their foreheads together as he climbed between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt lifted his leg and wrapped it around Eskel’s hip in an attempt to get him to maybe speed things up a bit. “Eskel,” Geralt hummed, “Gods, you’re killing me…”

Eskel smiled and ran his nose down the line of Geralt’s jaw and into the hollows of his neck. His lips traced along the tendons and veins and his teeth just barely glanced over his pulse point and Geralt felt his cock thicken and throb where Eskel pressed into him.

“Can I have you like this?” Eskel asked, his voice still muffled in Geralt’s neck, “Just wanna be able to look at you…”

Geralt swallowed thickly and nodded, turning his head in search of Eskel’s mouth. He finally, finally, slid their lips together, breathing each other in and holding onto each and every piece that they could reach. Geralt wrapped his arms around Eskel’s waist and stroked up and down the hard lines of his back, tracing the scars he knew better than his own.

“Lift-nng” Eskel tried to say, though Geralt nipped and tugged at his lower lip to keep him in place, “Lift your damn hips, you great oaf.”

Geralt chuckled and did as he was bid, letting Eskel run his fingers through the ties keeping his braies on and loosening them. They slid down his thighs and Eskel let him rest his bum back on the bed. Eskel shimmied himself backwards and fully pulled the smalls off of Geralt, sending them careening through the room to land somewhere in the shadows. Geralt’s cock lay hard and flushed and weeping on his stomach and Eskel took a deep breath in through his nose, grounding himself in the lust on the air and the taste of Geralt already on his tongue.

Eskel stood up and turned to face the fire as he undid his own smalls, pushing them down quickly and without any dramatics. But Geralt found himself drooling over him anyways, seeing the beautiful bronze skin revealed inch by glorious inch, the swells of his backside just begging for his teeth to sink into. Again. He then grabbed the little vial of oil that spent most of the year gathering dust on the mantle, but in the winter found a new home atop the little table next to their bed.

And oh fucking shit I’ve missed that so much, Geralt thought as Eskel turned back to him with his cock hanging heavily between his thighs. Eskel crawled onto the bed and prowled over top of him, his chest already heaving and pressing into Geralt’s. Eskel sat up on his knees and Geralt braced himself on his elbows, watching Eskel uncork the oil and slowly drip a generous amount of the cool liquid onto their cocks where they rested together. Eskel’s hand was warm when he reached down to rub the oil around, wrapping around them and tugging and pulling and-

“-Fuck, Eskel,” Geralt spat through grit teeth when Eskel just barely thumbed the slit of Geralt’s cockhead. “If you’re gonna do all that shit, I need you in me now.”

Eskel laughed breathily and kissed Geralt hard, all teeth and tongue and rushed whispers of affection. “Alright, alright. I’ve got you, Geralt. I’ve got you…”

Eskel poured some more oil between Geralt’s legs and Geralt felt it slowly trickle down to his entrance. Eskel’s fingers followed soon after, languidly rolling his balls around in his palm before trailing down between his cheeks. Geralt sighed as Eskel started pressing around his hole, not pushing in yet, just massaging and loosening the tight muscle.

“Gods, Geralt,” Eskel murmured, dragging his free hand down Geralt’s flank and across his stomach, “you’re so tense…”

“No one’s been back there since Spring, Esk…”

Eskel blinked up at him and Geralt could taste the new wave of arousal that poured off Eskel. “You’ve not had anyone? All year? Geralt, I...you-”

Geralt’s head hit the pillow and he sighed, trying desperately to put the words together in his head. “I-fuck, Eskel, I just want you. You’re...you’re the only one who I can...who I can be comfortable with.”

Eskel surged forward and captured Geralt’s lips between his own, tasting of salt and honey and fucking unending love. “Geralt. Fuck. You can’t just say shit like that out of nowhere. Fuck, I love you so much it hurts. It fucking hurts, and then you just go and say that? You’re gonna put me in an early grave-”

Geralt’s world twisted and turned as Eskel’s hands gripped onto his hips, his fingers digging into his skin as they rolled and shifted on the bed, winding up with Geralt laying on his stomach and Eskel’s lips pressing into the skin at the nape of his neck. Eskel dragged his mouth down, leaving hot wet kisses down Geralt’s spine and over the swell of his bottom.

Eskel’s breath ghosted over Geralt’s skin as he slid his finger back down to press against his entrance, finding only a gasp of resistance as he pushed in to his knuckle. He worked Geralt open slowly, kneading and licking and nipping the soft flesh of Geralt’s ass while he slid in another, and then one more finger. He relished the little noises that clawed their way out of Geralt’s chest unbidden, gasps and moans and keens that he felt more than heard.

Meanwhile Geralt was warring with his own mind, torn between wanting so desperately to grasp into Eskel’s hair and haul him back up to feel his lips cover his own, trailing down over his jaw and neck and chest, but also needing to feel more of him, deeper, harder-

Their words broke off between gasps for air and fisted sheets and Eskel quietly continued his task of working Geralt open on his fingers. Geralt’s breath hitched in his throat when Eskel crooked his fingers inside of him, warm and slick and hitting up against that devastating bundle of nerves. But all too soon it was not so nice, his fingers sliding in and out and not being close to enough for Geralt. “M-shit, more, Eskel.”

Eskel hummed and bit down into the tender flesh of Geralt’s bum, feeling the fluttering of his walls play at his fingers. He looked down and watched his fingers slowly slide in and out, stretching him in preparation of what was to come. Eskel had his own wars inside of his head, his need to shower Geralt with soft touches so rarely afforded to his battle-worn skin clashing against the feeling tugging behind his belly to find the breaking point nestled so deep inside of Geralt’s body.

Geralt’s hips thrusted softly against the bed beneath them, chasing the release that had been teasing at them both all damn day. Eskel chuckled when a particularly hard thrust made him bonk his nose into the crease of Geralt’s asscheeks, and he shifted himself to sit up with a sweet pat to the swells of muscle.

“Roll back over, wanna look at you-”

Geralt sighed when he felt Eskel’s fingers slip out of him, leaving him oddly empty and aching and wanting. It took him a moment to find his bearings, but he flipped over soon enough to meet Eskel’s fiery eyes. Eskel hovered over him, his chest heaving with hot breaths and his medallion clinking against Geralt’s. Geralt ran his fingers through the soft dark hair over Eskel’s chest, pressing his fingers into the yielding flesh over his heart and giving it a squeeze. Eskel growled with a sinister grin and moved faster down his body than Geralt had anticipated.

Eskel leaned down and lapped his tongue up the underside of Geralt’s cock just as he slipped his fingers back into him. Geralt shook when Eskel wrapped his lips around the tip and sunk down, teasing and licking while his fingers hit that precious bundle of nerves nestled so deep inside of him. Eskel’s mouth moved with his hand, pushing in and out and up and down and humming against him and Geralt could feel the pearly arousal dripping onto Eskel’s tongue with every slick slide of his lips.

“Ah, ah, Esk-g...gonna-fuck...”

Eskel only hummed, low and hard from his chest, and Geralt arched up off the bed in pleasure when Eskel zeroed in on that spot within him, holding there and sucking and slurping every bit of spend that Geralt had to give. It just kept coming, shooting down Eskel’s throat and spilling out the sides of his lips messily. Eskel felt the haze of his own pleasure tease at the edges of his eyes as his hips thrust lazily against the bed, his free hand holding tight to Geralt’s hip.

Geralt sagged back onto the bed in a haze, tender and sensitive and already craving more. He pulled Eskel back up to him and ran his thumb over the corner of his mouth, gathering his own spend onto his finger. Geralt slipped his thumb between his lips and licked it clean as Eskel watched with great gasping breaths and eyes so dark there was only a little ring of gold shining in the night.

“Geralt, fuck, c-can I-” Eskel stuttered over his words, his hands running over Geralt’s shoulders and down his chest, his cock dripping down into the hair above Geralt’s own half-hard cock.

“Yes,” Geralt breathed and fit his hand up onto the nape of Eskel’s neck, his fingers pressing firm while Eskel shifted on the bed to line himself at Geralt’s entrance.

Eskel gasped into Geralt’s skin as he just barely pushed into the rim, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist to hold him as close as possible. Geralt’s fingers tightened in Eskel’s hair as he started to gently thrust inside of him, Eskel’s chest rumbling with a low purr as he smothered Geralt with his body.

“G-Geralt,” Eskel murmured, his hips already losing rhythm, “I’m, fuck you’re so-”

Geralt hummed and nodded, running his hands down Eskel’s shoulders and back up again around his neck. “Go on, Eskel. You’ve been on edge all day. Give it to me.”

Eskel’s voice went high and strained, tight mumbles escaping from between his teeth as he ground his hips deep against Geralt’s, spending inside of him. Eskel rubbed his face into the tender skin of Geralt’s neck as he finally, gloriously released into him, feeling the way that he fluttered and flexed around his cock. He saw great stars shooting behind his eyelids as his climax tore through him, unrelenting and all-encompassing.

Geralt kept his hold firm on Eskel as he went limp in his arms, Eskel’s mind blanking and blind for a blissful moment. Geralt felt the pressure of Eskel everywhere, on top of him, around him, inside of him, leaking out of him. The only thing that could ever gather him enough strength to move was Eskel himself, and he didn’t really seem up to that quite yet.

Or, well, maybe he did. Eskel didn’t even soften a little bit in Geralt, his hips already rolling deep and slow inside Geralt. His bones sang out to Eskel in ecstasy, yearning for him, craving him.

Geralt’s cock rested hard once more on his stomach, steadily dripping his arousal into a little pool. Eskel’s hands tightened on his hips and pulled him into each and every thrust, slow and hard and deep and addicting. Eskel couldn’t keep his hands still as he dragged his cock inside of Geralt, only just barely shifting back and forth as he tried to stay buried in his tight, wet heat as much as possible.

“Ger-nnng,” Eskel gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as he felt the pressure of Geralt around him clench and smother every last bit of him with every soft move of his cock. Geralt smirked and bore down farther, tightening his hold on Eskel’s arm and around his neck as he pulled him down so that their faces were held with only the space of a breath between them.

Geralt could feel the tight coil of release draw taut as he dragged his hands down Eskel’s chest and to his own cock. Eskel’s eyes followed him, branding his skin with the fire behind them, watching as Geralt took himself in hand. Geralt shuddered as his climax came closer and closer into view, only needing just a little more, a little something to push him over the edge-

“Fuck, Geralt, I...I can’t hang on much longer…” Eskel ground out, brushing his nose down over Geralt’s and pleading with his eyes.

“Let go, Eskel. I want it, please-”

And then he did. Eskel thrust hard and deep a handful more times as he hit his peak, his cock pressing against that devastating bundle of nerves nestled deep inside of Geralt each and every time. Oh, and then when his release finally overtook him once more? Gods, his cock flexed and spilled and hit Geralt like a punch in the gut over and over and over, until finally Geralt too climaxed with his cock in his hand. Long stripes of spend spilled and painted his chest while Geralt groaned from low in his stomach.

The two of them laid there for Gods know how long, just lingering in each other, the scent of their combined arousals making them feel almost drunk from the heady way it went straight through them. Eskel was the first to move, slipping from the tight embrace of Geralt’s body and flopping down onto the bed at his side. Geralt reached out and tangled their fingers together while their chests heaved in great gulps of air, their minds still addled and off-kilter.

Eskel swallowed thickly and focused his mind on the feeling of Geralt’s thumb running over the back of his knuckles, back and forth and back again… “Gods, Geralt,” he murmured, peering over at him, “I’ll never get tired of that.”

Geralt chuckled without opening his eyes, already feeling the threads of consciousness being steadily pulled from him. “You better not. I plan on getting fucked like that until I die.”

Eskel hummed and reached out blindly with his free hand, groping for the spare scrap of cloth that he kept by the bed. Once he found the soft fabric he gently swept it up over Geralt’s stomach and chest, feeling the vibrations of his hum beneath his fingers. Eskel reached back between Geralt’s thighs and cleaned there as well, knowing that although Geralt would never really say anything about it, he wouldn't enjoy being sticky in the morning.

Eskel tossed the rag away and shifted underneath the blanket, reaching out to pull Geralt into his chest. “C’mere, you. Wanna hold you.”

Geralt grunted and rolled over onto his side, burying his face into the hair on Eskel’s chest. Eskel wrapped his arm around Geralt’s waist and held him close, pressing his nose into the silver hair atop Geralt’s head. Woodsmoke, spice, pine. Home.

Geralt sighed into him and wrapped his own arm around Eskel, snuggling in and quickly letting sleep take him away. Eskel felt the shift, the way that Geralt’s shoulders relaxed and his hips fell further into the bed, his mind finally quiet and his hands still. He pressed his lips softly to the crown of Geralt’s head and held it there for a heartbeat or two, pouring everything he could into those soft moments before he himself fell into the warm embrace of sleep.

#ebb #eskel big bang #eskel #geralt #gereskel #smut #so much smut #they make me so extra super gotdam happy

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nothing-but-dreamy · 4 years ago

Text

TRUE COLORS ~ Ch. 3

You want to start the series? Chapter 1

Pairing: DBH!Connor x OC!Maya

Words: 2325

Warnings: none; Connor is adorable

After another long day at the Chicken Feed truck, Maya was glad to be back home. The neverending rain got replaced by soft falling snow, how it got announced. As she entered her apartment, Maya shook off the snow from her cost and got greeted by the soft female voice of her intercom. A nice warmth and her favorite ambient music were flooding her own four walls. That was home.

The tall skyline of Detroit rose behind the windows, its lights sparkling like million candles in the distance. One by one, Maya switched on small lamps for more indirect light and atmosphere. It was just past eight but already dark. From the right, she heard a low plop.

"Hey, Trevor. You're awake. Good morning, little one.", Maya said and greeted her small, nocturnal gecko in its terrarium. The small creature croaked happily as it saw its owner. Maya sprayed water for more humidity and removed an old leaf.

"It's freezing cold outside. You can be happy to be in there where it is so warm.", she said low, closed the glass door of the terrarium and decided to take a bath. A long, hot bath would be the right thing to end this long work day and to start her evening.

"You have a visitor.", the intercom announced. Maya lowered her pencil and looked confused at the digital clock of her stove.

"Now? Who would visit me now?", she asked into the empty apartment. Trevor had no answer. It was past 2 AM and there was no one who would visit her to such an hour except Gary, who would have some kind of trouble. Maya sighed, stood up and answered the door. Surprise wouldn't be even the right choice of word to describe how Maya felt as she opened the door.

"C-Connor? What...what are you doing here?", she asked, still with the handle holding in her hand to close the door whenever necessary.

"Lieutenant Anderson suggested that I shall visit you.", Connor said and looked kinda lost. He had followed Hank’s instructions and yet, it seemed to be wrong again.

"Visit me? Why?", Maya asked puzzled. She watched how Connor, whose hair and shoulders were covered in snow, looked at a point in the distance. His LED flashing yellow.

"To talk about emotions.", Connor answered and looked back at Maya. She knew that she still looked at him with confusion.

"Okay, help me a bit here. I'm confused and have no idea how I could help you. Is it because of your case? Happened something there?", Maya asked directly and noticed how Connor relaxed a bit. That was a field he could control. Suddenly, she felt the coldness of the hallway on her naked feet, so she stepped aside.

"Come in. It's getting cold.", Maya said softly and let the android in, “What happened?”, she asked, closed the door and followed Connor.

"We were chasing two deviants and I...I had trained my gun at them. They were right in front of me but...", Connor started his explanation while he stepped into her living room.

"But you haven’t shot them?", Maya asked as he didn’t end his sentence. She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice but held her breath.

"N-no... I... I couldn't.", Connor answered and looked at the ground while his LED was spinning yellow. Maya released her breath and relaxed. But she was also concerned about the state of the android.

"So, you didn't shoot them and that troubles you?", Maya asked softly. Connor nodded and this time, she gave him the time to speak when he was ready. He stopped at the wall and looked at her paintings.

"I got sent by CyberLife to investigate the spreading deviancy. The phenomenon that androids seem to start to feel. I got programmed to hunt and to stop deviants before it’s too late. To prevent something bad from happening.", he said automatically as if he was just repeating something he had said hundreds of times or what was an essential part of his code.

"But you couldn't shoot the two androids even if they were right in front of you? You acted against your program?", Maya asked, slowly understanding what the android's problem was. Connor was shifting between fulfilling his mission and obviously developing emotions on his own. For him it was problematic to process everything properly. Maya was sure that there was nothing in this world that would be more difficult for him right now.

"I... I don't know how that could happen.", Connor said and looked back at Maya who leant against her couch with her hands shoved into her front pockets.

"Can you tell me more about the androids? Or the case?", Maya asked calmly.

"It were two girls from the Eden Club. One of them killed a guy... accidentally.", Connor answered, remembering the early evening.

"Why did she kill the guy?", Maya asked, now, truly interested. Until now, she had just heard a few rumors about androids developing emotions. But murder was a whole new level.

"She said she was just defending herself as the victim started to hit her. She feared that she would die and so she... She...", Connor said and stopped.

"She defended herself to run away with another android?", Maya asked and connected the dots.

"Yeah... Lieutenant Anderson said the two girls seem to be in ... love.", Connor said and drew his brows together as he processed the said. Since he had started to talk about the case, now, it was the first time where his LED circled rapidly in a blinking yellow and a hint of red. For Maya the indicator that this was his main problem.

"They were in love? And as the one told you why she did it you couldn't shoot her?", Maya asked and Connor nodded. Once again, the android looked through her apartment to distract himself.

Connor scanned the area out of habit. The gecko croaked as it watched, very interested, how the android walked through the apartment. Next to the terrarium was a desk with sketches scattered over it. A bigger pad laid in the middle of the desk. A sketch of a person was drawn but it wasn't finished, just the outlines, so Connor had no idea what it would be later. Next to the desk was a canvas stand with a painting in the making. Several shades of green were smeared across the canvas and created an illusion of depth.

On the wall behind the stand, Connor saw finished, colorful paintings. They were paintings of geckos and plants like copies of the plants that were spread in the apartment. Connor scanned the plants. All of them were real and healthy with the right hydration. Another painting of her gecko hung at the other wall and Connor was looking at it for a few minutes. Maya walked over to him. His LED had calmed down back to blue. She was glad to see the android to be more relaxed again.

"You're very talented. Are you a painter?", Connor asked, looking at Maya with curiosity.

"Yeah... I'm currently studying art to get my bachelor's degree.", Maya said and looked at the painting one last time before she walked over to the couch. She signaled Connor to follow her. Maya sat with crossed legs in one corner of her couch and Connor sat next to her, well-behaved like a kid with his hands folded in his lap and with a straight back.

"So, how I see it, you have troubles processing the fact that you couldn't shoot the deviants how you should have.", Maya said cautiously. Connor nodded but stayed silent.

"Was it a conscious decision you made?", she asked further. Minutes were ticking by before Connor looked up at her. His brown eyes looked soft but sad. His face held a confused expression. Maya laid her hand reassuring on his arm and she noticed how his LED circled yellow. Maybe processing her question or her touch.

"Take your time to answer. We have all the time in the world.", Maya said low and softly with a smile.

"It was a decision I made. I decided not to shoot because...", Connor admitted finally.

"Because?", Maya asked softly. Connor looked from her hand into her eyes.

"I saw no reason. I knew I had to shoot them because my program, my mission, demanded it but I... I didn't want to.", Connor admitted low and blinked several times as he realized what he had said. Maya smiled softly at him.

"You made a decision on your own, Connor. It was your own decision to spare these girls because their death wasn't helpful for your mission."

"But I.. that must not be! I have to fulfill my mission to stop the deviants.", Connor said troubled.

"I'm convinced you will be able to find a way to solve this case without killing someone. There is always an alternative. To spare someone's life is always better.", Maya said and watched how Connor calmed down. His LED turned from yellow back to blue and slowed down.

"You said something about love earlier.", Maya asked and tried to guide the conversation to the next important topic. The reason why Hank had sent this android to her in the middle of the night.

"Y-yeah... Hank said the androids, the two girls, would be in love.", Connor explained and looked confused again. For Maya, he looked totally cute like this but she had to focus back on the current situation to keep a clear mind.

"You now, love is a good thing. There is no need to stop it. Love is the biggest power in this world.", Maya tried to explain a complex emotion.

"But they're androids. They don't really feel something. Their emotions are just errors in their software. They're emulating them.", Connor said, what sounded more like instructions in a manual.

"Do you really think that?", Maya asked, interested in his answer. There was something in his eyes that betrayed him.

"I.. yes.", Connor said but Maya saw the insecurity in his eyes. It had been a mechanical, programmed answer which would come automatically.

"What is love?", Connor asked suddenly.

"Oh, uhm... you can't explain that easily but I will try it. Love connects people in a powerful way. There is the bond between parents and their kids. Between siblings and of course, between two people in a relationship. When you love someone, they are the first thought in the morning when you wake up and the last before you fall asleep. You are willing to do anything for the one you love. Sometimes you fear to lose them because without them you wouldn't feel complete. There are people who would die to save the one they love. Or kill each other because they can't be together like Romeo and Juliet.", Maya tried to explain as best as possible. Love was a complex structure which wasn't easy to explain within a few minutes.

"That's a dramatic reaction.", Connor said serious as he processed the information.

"Love can be magnificent...or even disastrous. But if you love, you know that because the other person is everything you can think of. They matter more than your own life and you just want to be with them. Suddenly, there is someone in your life who seemed to be more important than yourself.", Maya closed her explanation. Connor inclined his head to one side.

"Have you ever been in love?", he asked interested. Maya was friendly and calm and the complete difference to all the humans he had met so far. He watched her bright eyes sparkling in the half dark and her hair falling over her shoulders like soft waves. For the first time, he noticed such things on someone else.

‘Software instability…’, the note popped up in front of his eyes.

"Oh… uhm…not really...not how I have explained it but in some way...yeah-", Maya explained stammering.

"But you're alone, aren't you? Or do you have a partner at the moment?", Connor asked further. Now, more interested in her than before.

‘Software instability…’, once again the note was showing up.

"No, I.. I'm single, at the moment. I had a few relationships but nothing too serious.", Maya answered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Haven't you loved them enough that they left?", Connor asked and Maya felt more uncomfortable under his intense glance which was innocent at the same time. She understood that Connor was like a child at this point. If he wanted to understand, he had to ask questions that came to his mind.

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple. There are different factors for people to stay together and sometimes... it's not enough to love each other. Sometimes even loving someone isn't enough that a relationship works out.", Maya tried to explain but she saw that Connor had difficulties to follow.

"Okay, look, I will try to explain it to you.", Maya changed her sitting position closer to Connor. He followed her lead and it seemed that he made himself more comfortable.

***

As she awoke, Maya realized that she must have fallen asleep on the couch. Slowly, she remembered how she had tried to explain love to an android the whole night. As she sat up, Maya noticed the blanket covering her.

"Connor?", she asked sleepy into the apartment but there was no response. She wasn't surprised but she smiled softly about the memories of how they had talked until she had fallen asleep against Connor's shoulder in the early morning hours.

Feeling wonderful, Maya pulled the blanket closer to her chest to keep the warmth a moment longer. That was it that a small piece of paper fell to the ground. Maya leant forward to collect it. It was just a small note but the words let her smile:

I had to leave and I didn't want to wake you. Thank you for … everything!

#connor #dbh connor #detroit connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor fluff #connor dbh #detroit become human connor #detroit become human #game #writing #gaming #video games #love #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom

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doitwritenow · 4 years ago

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DRAGON!! Questions: 2, 4, 27 aaaand 32. XD Also 35, release the rambles.

ADA!!!! Let’s see what I can do here... >:3

2. Why do you write fanfiction? I write fic because of the spaces between the lines of a story. The gaps and unanswered questions in canon encourage me to come up with deeper mechanics, more complicated lore, and complex character motivations in order to explain. Sometimes, one of those pieces will click into canon so well that it becomes inspiration. And then there’s nothing else to do but write! Lol. Stories are so wonderful because of what we can do with them, individually and all together, and I really like being a part of that.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you? Absolutely. Brandon Sanderson and Neil Gaiman are the novelists who’s skills blow me away and remind me why I like to write. Robert Hass,Trista Mateer, and Robert Graves are inspirations too, though I’m not a poet. I like to think and they make me do so.

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received? Oh that’s hard!!! I get a ton of wonderful comments--from long, analyzing, discussion ones to short, joking, fun ones that make me laugh when I’m having a bad day. I love to be able to interact and banter with my readers; it’s my favorite thing, and they’re all so lovely. ANYWAY a comment that jumps to mind is a recent one from @writingish1210 on all but my oldest fic ever, Wire Figures, praising characterization and tone. (i WILL cry, don’t test me)

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less. I used a random name picker for this, uh “they said I couldn’t fit calculus inside of endgame angst”

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want! Release the ramble!!!! okokok how about a first-page blurb from something I may or may not ever actually write? I’m in the mood for ironstrange fairytale au because I’m working on a Prophets in the Graveyard chapter today, so have some fantasy Rapunzel vibes!

The candle flame sparked weakly at the very base of its wick when the knock finally rattled at Stephen’s window. Stephen didn’t move from where he was kneeling, a hand extended in a careful downstroke to complete the right edge of the design he’d almost perfected. It was vital that his movements were smooth and controlled. He didn’t let the knock surprise him into skewing the line, and it took a long moment to loop his fingers to end his stroke with a flourish.

Only then did Stephen jump to his feet, tucking the sapphire feather of his quill behind his ear and tumbling toward the window. The glass was fogged from the warmth of the inside air against the chill of the autumn temperature outside, and Stephen could just barely see movement through the cloudiness. He slid his fingers between the windowpanes and threw them open.

“You’re late,” he said, bracing his hands on the windowsill. He leaned out to peer down at the prince standing on tiptoe atop the closest parapet.

“Yeah, well, maybe I got some sleep for once,” Tony Stark huffed.

“You’re lucky I’m still working and was in the bottom room.” The lowermost area of the North Tower—the part of the tower where Stephen spent most of his time and did most of his work—had the only window within reach of the castle wall. Tony was still too short to do much more than fumble blindly at its surface until Stephen noticed.

“You’re always still working,” Tony told him, extending a hand.

Stephen gripped it with both of his and hauled Tony upward, assisted by the prince’s scrambling feet bracing on the frozen stones of the North Tower. Tony got his free hand around the window frame and swept his legs inside. He perched comfortably atop the sill.

The cold air had turned both of their faces pink, and Stephen could already feel his nasal canals getting clogged. “Come on,” he said, jerking his chin. He knew Tony liked his spot in the window, his perch somewhere between Stephen’s world and his own, but it was cold and Stephen couldn’t help but worry that Tony might one day lose his grip. That he might fall, and not just to the top of the wall six feet below, but down and down to the bottom of the turret all those stories beneath, and Stephen would lose the prince they were all trying so hard to save.

“What are you working on?” Tony asked, letting Stephen tug him into the tower. He trotted over to the wide canvas spread across the center of the floor as Stephen latched the window behind them. Tony’s fingerprints were pressed into the mist on the glass.

“Nothing new,” Stephen replied with a shrug. “Still the fox.”

Tony hummed, walking a circle around the design. “I still don’t know how you get this from those dusty old books.”

“I’m a genius, obviously,” Stephen snorted.

“You’ve never even seen a fox, Stephen.”

“You know I don’t have to see something before I spiritsketch it.”

Tony glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You have to see me.”

“Well yeah, you’re a person.” Stephen sat back in front of his canvas, patting at his head until his fingers curled around his quill, as Tony circled a few more times before joining him. The prince was like a cat—fidgeting and circling and testing before finally relaxing enough to sit. “When I spiritsketch you, I’ll be reforming an existing soul, not producing a whole new one. All this is just to practice my technique.”

Spiritsketching was a complex art, relying on precision and power and the layered designs that matched ink to spirit and back again. Stephen’s life had been dedicated to it since he was seven years old. For ten years, he’d learned the properties of the soul and how to map it into a sketch, how to draw life into a mind assembled with the right lines and dots and angles, how to capture the essence of a thing by speaking the language of the spirit.

He’d started small, as the notes of a dead teacher had told him from the margins of the books. ‘Begin with what is manageable, and from there you can flourish.’ He’d started with drills to build his eye for symmetry and exactness. He’d learned how to layer his ink and control the thickness of his stroke. And then he’d begun to form creatures, matching designs described in the texts. There were butterflies huddled in the corners of the room even now; the first being he’d perfected.

He didn’t have to see the creatures. The only thing he had to see was Tony, until he could map the prince’s shining, complex spirit onto a canvas and do with it as he was bid. Stephen saw only the creatures he could build himself.

The king made sure of it.

“How close are you?” Tony asked, and for a moment Stephen thought Tony was talking about his own spirit, before he remembered the fox.

“Almost done,” he replied. “Six weeks and I’ve reached the last phase.”

“Oh fantastic. This is my favorite part.”

Stephen hid a grin, fingering his sapphire quill for a moment. He found his place on the canvas once again and drew a stroke of deep blue ink up into the tool. Leaning forward, Stephen carefully sought out the perfect connection and began to sketch.

That was fun!!! Thanks so much for the ask <3

#ask me anything #fanworkstuff #ironstrange #fanfiction #ironstrange fanfic

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Quarantine.3

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader (i don’t know if this will have ships or just friendship or what I am just letting it run its course) Genres: friendship, drama, romance Rating: All Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 3.1k Announcement: I have 901 followers this. I can’t thank you guys enough. Stay safe. (this has a tiny inspiration from the movie exit and that is that they can’t go outside that’s about it)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Tag Yourself Here]

Again sleep evaded you, leaving you pissed. Ready to destroy your brother's clock because it just kept ticking. Unable to take it any longer you left the room strolling through the hallway like a zombie. You moved through the building to many floors you knew you definitely should not have been on but you were ready to use your foreigner card. The one that allowed you to walk into restricted areas. All you had to do was look at them and say.

‘I am sorry, I don’t speak Korean’ and when they try to translate it to you, ‘I am sorry, I didn’t know I can’t read any signs’. This was a great way to feed your curiosity and get in some snooping. The fifth floor was full of recording studios. It was quiet, the whole building was still. Yet here you were walking in some mang slippers that were way too big for your feet. As you walked passed the doors you heard a faint sound coming from inside a studio.

Finding the studio named ‘Genius Lab’ emitting such a beautifully inviting melody you were met with the stark contrast of the studio door. Trying not to laugh, there was a doorbell, a keypad lock and there was a mat that said ‘go away’ with a cat giving the middle finger. Someone didn’t want people to enter. You kept walking along but ended up at the stairwell heading up another flight.

The sixth floor looked different. It was like a high-end office; the floors were buffed and it was so open, it made the other floors look like a shed and the basement like a hole in the side of a mountain. You knew it represented the tiers of people in the business so it was probably right that you spent most of your time underground. You didn’t step onto that floor going back down to the fifth. Slowly watching your feet as you retrace your steps along the corridor. Startled you fell back as you received a door to the face.

“ah joesonghabnida, ah sorry sorry” he couldn’t stop laughing. Feeling so tired you just laid there on the ground staring at the ceiling, but this to him was pure comedy.

“Are you okay?” He called, you blinked eyes barely open, he stepped over you and walked around until he could crouch by your head. Yoongi looked absolutely stunning above you especially when he was amused. What you didn’t know was he thought you looked equally beautiful below him. “Are you sleep geodgi… Ah, I mean sleepwalking?”

“I wish I could sleep” your voice was more like a croak from the lack of use, “I haven’t slept in days and it’s making my head hurt”

He straightened you up onto your feet and he walked with you back to where you were supposed to be staying. He wished you good luck and continued on to the BTS meeting room. You laid there trying to meditate, count sheep, anything but it wasn’t working. The air seemed stale and it was too quiet. His laptop on his desk had a blinking light and you couldn’t sleep.

The next morning you walked down the stairs slowly gripping the rail not trusting yourself. You had been like this before, usually, able to stay awake for two whole nights but when the third night came you would pass out. Everyone had gathered around on the first floor talking about something.

Leaning over to a young man, he was short and stocky. His hair looked odd as it fell limp against his face like it had been cut for a specific styling technique but you assumed everyone was living without their hair and face products. “what are they talking about?”

“They got an alert today saying that the Information centre had food supplies. The Yongsan Health centre has our supplies for this area. But they need a volunteer to go collect the supplies for this building, they are just calculating how much they would need and no one wants to go”

The people awkwardly shuffled, they were scared. Whether it was lack of sleep or because you felt like you had been freeloading on their supplies, you found yourself stepping forward to volunteer, “I can get the supplies” The man looked relieved handing you the suit. You looked at them and began putting it on, some people helped you. Looking out over the crowd you saw Jungkook and Hoseok the two looked confused for a second pointing at you before running off.

Assuming they were going to get your brother you quickly asked for a map of how to get there. They drew up a map and handed you a long-range walkie talkie. With a deep breath, you sealed the suit and started the breathing piece. It took a long time to get through the streets and you followed the instructions, it was going good until you came across something that wasn’t on the map.

“Hello, this is y/n, I seem to have come across a small intersection that wasn’t on the map. There are two parallel streets going diagonal to my right. Is it the first or second street that I am supposed to take when turning right” you waited and there was no response. “Okay, can I ask that you put, mister y/l/n on the walkie talkie or even Kim Namjoon as I am comfortable talking with the two?”

“Hello, this is Kim Namjoon. Your brother is both pissed and restrained at the moment. How can I help?” “Okay the map says turn right but there are two streets to my right, can you tell me exactly which right am I to take the first or the second?”

“Uh… Okay, I will check the map for a second, Jimin, hold this?”

“Hello, friend” Jimin’s voice came through the radio

“Annyong, Jiminie. Eotteohge jinae?”

“Joh-eun”

“That’s good, I am just standing in the middle of the street, I am bored”

A sweet song came through the radio and you listened and felt your body swaying. His voice seemed to fog up your brain but it made you feel special that he was singing for you. Trying to ignore the discussion in the background on what street to take. You decided to just start walking. You were wasting time and the air filter. Trusting your gut you headed down the first and looked at the map if this was the case you would reach the centre on your right.

“That’s a really pretty song Jimin, what is it about?” Grinning as you had found the place, you listened to Jimin speak flustered. You stepped inside the building and handed over the form. They wheeled over a canvas wagon with a long handle, the whole thing was the size of a single bed and up to your hip.

“Uh, it is about my love for you” Your cheeks turned pink, “I can be uh… whatever Jimin you want me to be?”

“I want you to be you Jiminie, that’s the Jimin I like the best. The one that is real. Not filters but natural Jimin.” Turning to the people and asking specifically if they had any extra products that weren’t foodstuff and they looked at you, you did some bargaining and you left with a few extra things. Jimin had become too flustered and handed the walkie talkie to an equally flirty Seokjin.

“Hello, It is I handsome Jin. I am here to cure your loneliness” He said making an exaggerated kissing sound into the walkie talkie. You felt like the lack of sleep and the situation was making you goofier and more giggly. They sent you off, you pulled the wagon along it was heavy and you were getting more and more tired. It was hard to pull the wagon down the street and you were outside the building.

“My loneliness is killing me, and I, I must confess that I still believe still believe”

“Ya! Spears! Britney Spears?” he laughed into the device as you rounded the corner walking down the main street the building insight.

“Okay hello again, we figured it out it is the first street,” Namjoon’s voice came through the walkie, laughing as you had already gotten back to the building. You pulled the wagon inside and everyone turned excited, some cheered and whistled while others were talking about the bravery of westerners. You pulled off the top of the suit taking in the open air, feeling a little dizzy.

“Something tells me she already knows that Joonie,” Hoseok laughed patting your back, Namjoon sighed in relief. Almost tackled by your brother, you tried to stay upright while he looked you over for any injuries. He scolded you openly in front of everyone but you were too busy stepping out of the suit. Wrapping your arms around him, “You were scared I get it, but I am fine, relax it’s over”

Eating lunch, you finished quickly heading to the basement for a shower, wheeling a heavy wagon across the streets of Yongsan was tiring and left you sweaty. When you opened the door, however, you saw the glorious figure of Seokjin, he was not wearing a towel but was thankfully facing away from you. Apologising and shutting the door, your mind flooded with images of his shoulders. How could they be so wide you wanted to hug him, hold them in your hands and rest your head against them.

He stepped out and grinned at your pink cheeks, He thought you looked cute all pink like that. Throwing you a wink as you ducked past him. The shower was perfect, your muscles relaxed and you were feeling cleaner already. Washing your hair, it sounded as if the door to the bathroom had opened but when you peaked your head out there was no one there. You continued showering, hearing the noise again. Again it was no one.

You tried to ignore the noise, hearing it a few more times. Until Jimin’s voice called out. You only understood Jin’s name the word hurry and shower so you assumed he was complaining about how long Jin was in the shower for. Before you had a chance to respond he spoke again and the shower stall door pushed open. Jimin was staring at you shirtless. Having just enough time to wrap a towel around yourself you knew he had gotten a glimpse of your body. He was frozen staring back and forth between you and the bathroom and with one singular apology, he left the room. You quickly finished up getting dressed and went to the storage room to hang out your clothes.

Taking the elevator upstairs you were walking back to b/n’s (brothers name) office. As you passed the Bangtan meeting room you heard laughing. You had missed Jimin’s recount of exactly what had transpired memories replayed in his head. He had given details about the way your hips curved and the likeliness of your breast feeling like soft pillows. You only heard him groan in what you thought was in embarrassment “I can’t look at her in the eye again?”

“It’s fine, so you saw her naked, Jin just said she saw him naked” You knocked on the door and Taehyung answered his face splitting into a boxy grin, his imagination working overtime with only what he had heard from Jimin.

“The shower is free, please tell Jimin it’s okay, I am not mad or anything” Sighing you gave a wave which he returned grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze before walking away you heard laughing.

“She isn’t mad, maybe she likes you and that’s why she doesn’t care if you saw” Taehyung teased his friend. “She looked really tired?” “Yeah she hasn’t been sleeping” Yoongi added “On the plus side we don’t have to practice if there is no tour in the foreseeable future”

“And what if there is a cure tomorrow” You smile at the playful bickering but don’t stay any longer as you aren’t an eavesdropper”

Stepping into b/n’s office you sat at his desk trying to find your favourite sleep music. Hoping that if you found it you might have a chance at sleeping. You spent hours trying to find it but couldn’t remember the name, only the picture. You gave up heading to dinner. You were dragged over by Taehyung to their table. He sat you across from Jimin trapped between Taehyung himself and Jungkook both amused. Eating together Yoongi asked you if you had managed to get some sleep and you shook your head and almost fell over.

“I guess I am a fussy sleeper, but I like when it is dark and there is like air moving across my face and there is this sleep music I use. It's like one tone and it really helps me sleep” they listened, relaying their sleep habits.

“I like to sleep holding someone” Taehyung frowned “but the others don’t let me”

“If you need a cuddle buddy Tae, I like cuddles” you leaned over resting your head on his arm tired. His heart sped up and a few of them felt almost jealous at this statement. After dinner you walked upstairs going to try and sleep again, hoping that the adventure had tired you out. Reaching the top of the stairs, your head began to spin. Before you could topple over backwards you felt a hand on your back. Jungkook led you away from the stairs sliding his arm under yours and behind your back he watched your head fall forward.

“Are you okay?” He caught you as your legs gave out and carried you in his arms.

“I think she might have passed out,” Jungkook said as he stepped into the meeting room.

They walked over to see you asleep ahead resting against Jungkook’s chest. Clearing off the couch he lowered your body onto it. You looked so tiny in Jungkook's arms and when they tucked you in, you curled up even smaller.

“Hmm with the light out the storage room is pitch black and I can see about the sound maybe her brother might know and I can recreate it” Yoongi hummed looking around at Jimin who gestured to the air purifier

“We have this, do you think that could work”

“That might work,” Namjoon said.

“Jungkook and I will carry her to the basement?” Hoseok said collecting some bedding and watching Jungkook carry your body against him to the service elevator.

“Words, I never thought I would hear from you?” Yoongi laughed. They laid out a futon and your sleeping bag and they positioned the air purifier so it would create a small breeze across your face. Your brother remembered the name of the music you listened to and they moved a set of speakers down to the basement and started playing it. The moment it played your body relaxed under the Sleeping bag and you rolled onto your stomach they left you to your peaceful sleep.

It was refreshing. You were dreaming that you were walking next to someone but every time you looked over their face would change. It was a mix of all the bangtan boys. You woke confused, it was pitch black and you didn’t know where you were, that was until you caught a familiar scent. You moved across the room and turned on the light. Looking back you felt a warm sensation, the boys had done all this for you. Checking the time you had been asleep for several solid hours.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Tag Yourself Here]

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katherinewilliams221b · 4 years ago

Text

For A Greater Good 10/18

not my gif just the text (Feels Like Home)

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

“I snuck out some tea from the kitchens.”

Kate left two teacups and a teapot on a small table in a corner of the first floor of the library.

Corentin raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not my first time.” She sat down in front of him with a small smile and nodded, letting Corentin serve the tea.

“Well... how’s life as a librarian?”

“Busier than it might seem. I’m constantly learning. So, I hear you’re a teacher now.”

Kate wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her drink.

“Attempt to be... with poor results. Let’s change the subject, I need to think about something else. Tell me about yourself.”

Corentin drank from his cup and looked up, pretending to think.

“Let’s see, I have a sister, Arlette, who lives in Lyon. She is an artist. That painting over there is hers.”

Kate turned and twisted her neck to see the painting hanging on the wall. It was a tree among mountains of snowy peaks with long branches that, instead of leaves, hung tiny books that opened and closed.

“The landscape changes with the seasons and the books come and go from the canvas according to the flow of the library books.

“Your sister is a genius.” She commented, admiring the painting.

“I will make sure she never hears that; we must not feed her ego.”

Amidst her laughter, Kate gasped and Corentin silently admonished her for being too loud.

She reached inside the cape and took out the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

“At last. Something more suitable for your age next time, perhaps?

“It took me a long time, I know, I didn’t have time. But I think I’ve understood. You told me that the key to Grindelwald’s power was in this book. And one of the stories caught my attention.”

“Well?”

“The fountain of fair fortune. Three witches and a knight are chosen to make a wish to the fountain of good fortune. On the way, they encounter different challenges. They must deliver three things: the proof of their pain, the fruit of their efforts, and the treasure of their past.

The librarian patiently drank his tea while Kate spoke.

“Leaving aside the moral, if that fountain were to come into existence, did Grindelwald manage to find it to ask for power? And the experiments he was doing here in Durmstrang, were those sacrifices?”

Kate stared at Corentin, excited by her reasoning and waiting for his approval.

“I like the way your mind works, but you’ve got the wrong tale.” Kate deflated and finished what was left of her tea in the cup.

Corentin raised an arm and a scroll and a quill flew at them. With graceful fingers, he drew a circle on the paper.

“The resurrection stone.” With three lines, he wrapped the circle. “The cloak of invisibility.” And finally, a single straight line crossed both figures. “The Elder Wand. They are called: the Deathly Hallows.”

Kate’s brow jumped to her hairline thinking about the column in the courtyard, but then she looked at Corentin in confusion. “Do they exist?”

“You were willing to believe that there was a fountain that grants wishes, weren’t you?” Kate shrugged her head in agreement.

“I know that Gellert believed in them and that he spent the time here in Durmstrang looking for them. And I have the impression that, some time later, he found at least one.”

“The older brother’s wand.” Corentin nodded.

“The mark on that column has nothing to do with him. People began to associate him with it, and he never denied it.”

She sighed and looked up at the centre of the tower where the enormous chandelier hanging high in the air sparkled.

“Williams. You must understand that if you tell this to anyone, you will look like a fool. No one believes that they exist because they have never been found.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because you asked me and I’m telling you what I believe.”

They continued to drink tea in pleasant silence while Kate thought about the importance of this new information.

Nothing that Corentin was telling her served her well in her mission and, although it was true that curiosity got the better of her, the whole thing was a dead end.

Just before she was about to return the tea set to the kitchens, Corentin stopped her.

“I don’t know if you know this already, but there’s a greenhouse behind the castle.” Kate’s eyes rounded. “Flavia wasn’t using it, but you might be interested.”

“Corentin, you don’t know how happy you’ve just made me now.”

“And Kate... do you want another piece of advice?" She nodded, "be the teacher you wish you had.”

A greenhouse. A greenhouse that no one had told her about. It was a mistake on her part not to have insisted on it.

This was exactly what she needed: having something to put a little green in her life, to feel the earth in her hands, to water flowers and to see them grow.

After sneaking back into the kitchens to return the teapot, she went to the place Corentin had indicated to her right by the lake.

It was quite far from the castle and it was abandoned, Professor Hodges didn’t use it for her classes, and that showed in the students’ knowledge.

With a look full of hope, she ventured inside the building.

She walked through the rubble, full of broken pots and dry leaves. The plants that were there were dead except for the ivy that had worked its way through the broken glass on the roof.

“I must cut that down.” She muttered to herself.

She ran her hand over the wooden table. It was in good condition, not a single splinter, and the varnish was practically intact. It was big enough to teach all the children at once.

She inspected every cabinet and drawer, taking inventory of the material and equipment she had. She could give a decent lesson with those instruments and was looking forward to that.

She looked around once more and, filled with joy, she was soon trying to put on one overall she found over the dress. Luckily, it was loose enough.

After making a bun with a rubber band, she armed herself with a pair of pruning shears and a ladder and climbed up to the glass roof to get rid of the ivy which covered the inside of the building.

The hours passed, and the morning turned into evening faster than she would have wished. For the first time since she had been at Durmstrang, she felt at home.

From the top of the dome and with her wand between her teeth, she admired the colours of the sky. It looked like a freshly painted canvas, one of Badeea’s paintings.

She was mesmerised for a few minutes, during which she began to feel the effects of a whole day’s hard work. She massaged her thighs and threw away the last branch of ivy she had in her hand before going back down into the greenhouse.

She picked up her wand and with a wave of the hand all the crushed glass on the floor flew to their rightful place, recomposing the roof and walls.

The broom that she had bewitched a few hours ago rested beside the mountain of leaves and dust that waited to be picked up by the door.

Kate looked at her work with satisfaction, and though it might have taken much less time to restore the building completely with magic, the manual labour also restored her spirit and soul.

She circled the centre table and headed for the flowerpots in the closet at the end of the room.

She decided that removing weeds and changing the soil was part of the experience of learning herbology, so she just removed the dust and cobwebs to save her students some work.

Her students. It was a curious phrase. She had never seen herself as a teacher. It was Rowan who did that work, not her. After seeing the essays that they had done, she had no hope of improving her teaching skills until that point.

The opportunity to be able to interact with the plants they had been studying would perhaps make them all less miserable and might even get them to learn something. Getting them to be interested in the subject was going to be a more laborious task.

Charlie would be a brilliant teacher, with that infinite patience he has, she thought.

A wave of melancholy washed over her unexpectedly.

Oh, how she missed him. It was usual to go for an entire day without seeing each other, or speaking, each one busy with their respective work, but both knew that the time would come to meet for dinner and share their day amidst laughter and kisses.

Now that was impossible.

As she let her mind torture her, she had not realised that she had begun to stir the soil with her fingers and that in turn, all those thoughts were channelled into the pot, making a small orange flower grow. She was startled to feel the warmth of magic in her fingers reaching the flower.

Her eyes suddenly blurred, and without being able to avoid it, one tear after another ran down her cheeks and made their way down her throat.

She sniffled and then grunted, feeling stupid. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and with a sad smile, picked up the flower that had reminded her of Charlie to keep it between the pages of her journal.

Just as she was picking up her coat to leave, the door to the greenhouse opened.

Too early for the moon to appear, the light coming from the castle was not strong enough to identify the figure that had just entered, so she approached the table with a quick ‘Lumos’.

“Professor Angelov!”

The secretive transfigurations teacher was startled to hear his name. It was clear he didn’t expect to find anyone there.

“What happened here?” he sounded strangely offended, even though Kate had done in one day the work that should have been done in months.

“I repaired the building. I plan to use it for my classes,” she hesitated to criticise Durmstrang’s teaching system to a professor, but her mouth went ahead of her brain and she wasn’t quick enough to stop it. ��as it should have been done.”

Angry eyes shone in the light of her wand.

Kate put aside the reason for Leron’s visit to the greenhouse and focused on deciphering his anger. Even her legilimens skills couldn’t figure out its origin. She could only pick up confusion and... fear?

Angelov did not bother to say another word to her and with a movement of his cloak, which reminded Kate of her former potions teacher, he strode out into the night.

The next day, Kate decided to put to good use the new and improved greenhouse and took her students through the grounds of Durmstrang.

“I think you’re going to love this. Well, at least I’m excited.”

She waved her wand to keep all fifteen books in the air as she walked down the path to her students.

There was a lot of grunting and snorting when Kate told them they would not be in the classroom that day, but she was convinced that a little natural light and playing with dirt would change their mood.

“We’re almost there. I know you were bored the other day, and so was I, so...”

Kate stopped in front of the glass building and showed it off with her arm outstretched.

Several students exchanged glances, others stared at her, waiting for instructions.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Are we going to have a class here?” asked one girl.

“Indeed, Dana, we’ll do three hours a week here: one on Wednesday and two on Friday, what do you think?”

“That this place is dangerous.” Said Jon Hopkins.

“Ah, but that’s not true anymore. Come on, let’s go inside.” The sparkle in her eyes went unnoticed by the students who, skeptical of the change of scenery, entered behind her.

Kate surrounded the long central table where she left her books and headed for the end of the room. She waited for everyone to finish looking around and pile in with her.

“Lesson number one: safety. In that cupboard over there there are overalls for everyone, I’ve washed them, of course, so take one all and put it on over your uniform. There are also protective gloves. Take a pair too.”

Michael Angelov went to the table and took out a scroll to write something down. One of his companions looked at his writing and began to laugh.

“Are you going to write down everything she says?” The others laughed with him.

“Who knows, it might be an exam question. I recommend that you do the same. Memory can be treacherous.”

As they reluctantly left their bags and backpacks, the speech continued.

“You are responsible for your new work clothes. We will use potions, spells and dangerous plants, the suit will protect you and it is vital that you wear it. If someone is not wearing the suit, they cannot enter; if someone is not wearing gloves, they cannot enter and I will be very strict about this”.

She indicated that they should sit around the table, each on a stool.

“Lesson number two: know what materials are available. In the drawer in front of your seat there are: a small shovel, tweezers, garden shears, a spray and a brush”.

She left a moment for everyone to rummage through their drawers and continued.

“You are also responsible for the material. Before and after a class everyone should check that they have everything and put them in the drawer. I want you to write down the date and the list of your material.”

Everyone was silent, clearly confused about what they were doing. Kate went around the table, giving some directions and helping those who seemed to need it.

“Lesson number three: know what you are going to do.” As she waved her wand, the books placed on the table flew to each student.

“Today we’ll focus on the first part of Lesson Five: recognising soil types. This was part of the last test, and it’s clear that I didn’t prepare you enough for it. It’s important that you know how to do this because it’s fundamental. Make a note of the purpose of this practical class. I would have liked to do this earlier, but... that’s the way it is.”

As the children opened their books and whispered to each other, Kate handed out a tray with three small pots of different types of soil. Each with a label with a letter: A, B and C.

“Try to identify the three pots with the help of the book.” She said when she finished.

“Ah!” a little girl, Greta Eberhardt exclaimed. “There’s something in my pot!”

“It’s called earth, silly.” Replied her partner.

Kate came over to inspect Greta’s tray. Something bright blue was buried. She took one of the tweezers from the table and pulled it out.

“It’s a billywig. See the wings coming out of its head? Don’t worry; it’s dead.”

Not only did the wings catch the children’s attention but also the long, pointed sting of the torso.

She stared at the insect for a long time and looked up when it became silent in the greenhouse. Such discipline cannot be healthy, she thought, as she saw them reading or sticking their fingers in the pots without looking up.

“How quiet you are... I never said that you cannot work as a team.”

That evening Kate sat in her room drowned in pieces of parchment, both her students’ work and her notes from her mission.

She returned her attention to Vivien Argar, the name that was written on top of the paper, and sighed when she noticed that her assignment was two parchments longer than it should have been.

Kate put her quill down and pinched her nose, her thoughts returning to the Order. She considered Kent Jorgensen and wondered what kind of business he had going on with Leron Angelov.

Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, letting her suspicions cloud the logic, but she could have sworn that they left the Great Hall together when Astrid Rhode was giving her speech. She never confirmed it.

Several taps on a glass caught her attention.

A red bird was standing outside the window and demanded to enter the room.

“Fawkes?” She hurried to the window and opened it, allowing the phoenix to enter. He circled her and screeched while she closed the window again.

“I know, I know! How demanding…” Kate grabbed a blank piece of parchment off the floor, made a ball with it and set it on fire before conjuring it to be suspended in the air at ground level.

Fawkes cuddled up near it and let out a grateful tweet.

“What do you have in there?” She said, noticing the roll of paper that Fawkes guarded in his claws. She tried to grab it but Fawkes hid it between his feathers, opened his beak and stayed that way for a while.

Kate rolled her eyes and walked to the closet to look for the small bowl where she kept a roll of spellotape and some quill tips.

She emptied it and conjured some water before bringing it to an impatient Fawkes. He lowered his head in a small reverence and extended his open claw for Kate to inspect.

“Always want something in return, huh? It is true that pets are like their masters…” Fawkes huffed and sipped from his water, ignoring her.

She unrolled the tube to find two pieces of parchment. The first one had a short sentence.

Trust him in the woods.

“Great. I didn’t have enough with what I had.” she complained out loud.

She unrolled the second paper, but to her disappointment it was blank.

She left the parchments on the bed and sat down at her desk again, trying to resume her work, but Fawkes got up and flew to her shoulder. He bit a strand of her hair and tugged.

“I don’t have anything for you to eat, Fawkes.” The phoenix ignored her comment and kept on pulling at her hair until she turned around.

“Alright, that’s quite enough!” Fawkes flew to the bed and stood on the blank parchment, tapping it several times with his beak.

Kate took a deep breath before approaching the bird.

She grabbed her wand and pointed at the paper before murmuring ‘Revelio’.

A black line started to appear, drawing an uneven path that rounded the parchment and ended in the same spot that started. A cross appeared in the upper corner of the deformed oval. It wasn’t a circle or any geometrical figure; it looked like…

“A map.” she whispered. The question was, a map of what? The figure consisted in a single contorted line. There was nothing inside of it, just a cross. She turned around again and winced at the sight of her desk. With a flick of the wrist, all the pieces of parchment of the table flew around to settle down in tidy piles on one side of the desk.

She let herself fall backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

With only one candle flickering in the room, the darkened atmosphere made her want to close her eyes, and she did, letting her exhaustion take over her.

[Part 11]

Tag List: @eldritchscreech @meteora-fc @cazreadsstuff

#charlie weasley #mc #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x ofc #hphm #charlie x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley fanfiction #kate williams #durmstrang

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todisturbtheuniverse · 5 years ago

Text

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [5/8]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 4000 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Usually, Adaar liked nothing better than being on the road. Clear nights like these were best of all. It was easy to pick out constellations she knew, stars she'd once navigated by on her own, crisp against the velvet map of the heavens. She'd lain on a thin bedroll staring up at that sky more nights than she could count, and when she'd closed her eyes, she'd slept peacefully.

The view afforded her very little peace just now.

Four more days to Val Royeaux. Six more until this party that Adaar was supposed to appear at. She'd made up her mind as she left Josephine's office, though. She hadn't promised anything. Leliana had sent along the tools and information Adaar would need to deal with the House of Repose. Damn the woman, but she had done Adaar that small favor.

Her people answered to the Inquisitor, not the Ambassador. When they arrived in Val Royeaux, she would do what needed to be done. No more games.

Josephine would be angry, but the damage to their friendship had already been done. What did one more blow matter?

Best not to think about that. To hope, as was her habit, that Josephine had kissed her back and meant it. That it hadn't just been relief, or gratitude, or the heat of the moment, or…

Adaar would send her back to Skyhold with Leliana's people when it was all over, but she would not be escorting them. The additional protection Adaar and her companions offered would no longer be required. They could ride far faster than a handful of carts. They would go south, to the Emerald Graves, and Adaar would get back to doing what she did best.

She did not plan to go back to Skyhold for a long, long time.

She shifted a little in the open bed of the cart, easing her legs out of one position and into another. Wouldn't do to get too cramped if someone crept up on them in the dead of night. She needed to be quick. Quicker than she'd ever been. She blinked her bleary eyes and surveyed the lonesome wilderness around their meager campsite again, searching for anything that didn't belong.

Behind her, canvas rustled. She turned her head to note it, squinting through the dim starlight. Paranoia prickled at her, insisting that an assassin had slipped by both her and the four others on watch, but the part of her still capable of logic expected to see one of their own party leaving their tent.

She just didn't expect it to be Josephine.

Adaar looked away, back to watching the road and sparse woods behind. She briefly considered the merits of lying down flat in the cart, concealing herself from view entirely, but that was both too childish and too dangerous. She knew how likely she was to fall asleep, even on these hard boards, if she arranged herself horizontally.

So she listened, with pricked ears, to Josephine's footsteps. She hoped they would circle away, paired with whatever guard had the unfortunate task of protecting people while they pissed, but instead, they drew closer.

Shit.

They hadn't spoken much since leaving Skyhold. She'd avoided Josephine, staying close enough to watch her back but far enough away to ward off conversation. Josephine seemed to have picked up on this, accepted it; she hadn't said anything beyond a simple greeting this morning.

But they'd also been surrounded by others: scouts, guards, Adaar's companions. Perhaps she'd just been waiting for the right moment, when they'd be overheard by the fewest possible ears.

The right moment for what, Adaar had no idea. Another plea for Adaar to understand? An apology for being so cursed stubborn about this? A reprimand for kissing her? An entreaty to do it again?

Josephine paused when she drew alongside the back of the cart, just within Adaar's peripheral vision. "Inquisitor," she said softly.

Adaar watched the woods. "Ambassador."

The cart dipped a little with Josephine's weight. For a moment, they sat in silence, two feet of space between them. Adaar saw Josephine's head tip back, taking in the view of the heavens, but only out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think knowing the way starlight looked on that face would make this any easier.

"I brought you something," Josephine said at last, and Adaar realized she held a small wooden box. She set it down on the cart between them and opened the lid. "If you're not going to sleep, you'll need your strength."

Adaar glanced down at the box. A pile of little round cookies nestled on a linen napkin inside it, some of their edges crumbling.

Well, maybe she could rule out a reprimand, at least. That was...something.

"I don't know that sweets are the best choice for a long watch," she said, but she took one, anyway. "I don't recognize these."

"Polvorones. My favorites. My father's, too. He sends me quite a few of them, for fear that I'll get too homesick, the way he's always done. I usually hide them away for myself, but…" She clasped her hands in her lap. "I thought they might be an adequate peace offering. Or the beginning of one, anyway."

Adaar turned her attention back to the road as she took a bite of the cookie. It crumbled in her mouth, on her hands, sweet with a trace of almonds. She swallowed, took a sip from her water skin to wash the rest of the crumbles down as she considered.

It was abominably hard to tell this woman No, which was why she'd avoided situations where she'd have to do it at all costs.

"Danaya," she said, raising her voice.

Josephine's head turned toward her, but she didn't interrupt. Quick footsteps approached.

"Yes, Your Worship?" the guard said.

"Watch the rear. I am being distracted."

"Yes, Your Worship," Danaya agreed, and wisely moved a solid thirty feet down the road to take her post without further comment. Good woman. Didn't make a single face whatsoever.

"I'm listening," Adaar said to Josephine.

She heard Josephine's relieved breath. She unfolded a napkin over her lap, and her elegant fingers dipped into the box to pick out one of the polvorones for herself. "I've been thinking, these last few days. I realized how poorly I've behaved. We had an agreement. If you still want to deal with the House of Repose directly…I am a woman of my word. I won't argue further."

Adaar blinked. The possibility of an apology had occurred to her, and not even as a long shot; Josephine was mindful of other people's feelings. She'd certainly noticed how...off...Adaar was. Adaar was not that adept at concealing it.

But this? She hadn't expected this.

"Okay," she said slowly, testing. "That does make things a little easier, since I planned to do just that when we arrived in Val Royeaux."

Surprise—distress—flitted over Josephine's face, but it quickly smoothed. "That is fair."

"I would have told you," Adaar said, compelled to defend herself, "but frankly, I don't hold up very well to your silver tongue. Best not to risk it."

Josephine chuckled, a little sadly. "No, I understand. I just have one request."

"For my sake, please make it a reasonable one."

"Even when you have every right to be angry with me, you are amusing," she said, but pushed on before Adaar could reply. "I would like to explain why I've been so opposed to your plan, to Leliana's plan. Prove to you that I'm not being mulish, or stupid, or naïve, or..."

"I don't think you're any of those things." Adaar picked up another cookie. She'd finished the first one without noticing. She did tend to eat her nerves. "Well, maybe a little stubborn. Usually that's a good quality. But if you'd like to tell me, go ahead."

Josephine dipped her head. "I used to be a bard, you see."

She paused there as if deliberating, and Adaar tried to imagine it. She was a deft negotiator, but Adaar had a hard time picturing her in such a place at court just now, with the pretty ocean-blue shawl held around her shoulders to ward off the chill, her long dark hair woven into a loose braid over her shoulder. Rumpled by sleep, or maybe a lack of it. She belonged among her books and her missives, her pen and her ink. Hard to imagine her hiding daggers in her clothes instead.

She'd had a letter opener in her sash that night. Adaar pushed the thought of it, its inadequacy, as far away as it would go.

"What, like Leliana?" she asked. "With the singing, and the story-telling, and…"

"The spying," Josephine finished. "Yes. I was young, attending university in Val Royeaux. It sounded so...romantic, so exciting. Trysts, secrets, fascinating people. Very different from my responsibilities to my family."

"Ah," Adaar said. "So even you can get tired of paperwork sometimes."

"Especially at that age." Josephine sighed, as if the memory embarrassed her. "So I put on a mask, told myself that my siblings would get along without me, and practiced the Game in as thrilling a way as I could."

"I suppose I can imagine that. Well," she amended, "parts of it, anyway."

Josephine nodded. "Parts of it, yes. The charming conversation, that I was good at. I had some skill with a harp, though my singing has never been as good as Leliana's."

Adaar made a mental note to find a harp at the first opportunity, then remembered herself and crossed it out again immediately. Her plans after Val Royeaux had not changed. She would maintain the distance between them. It was for the best.

The words would ring true someday, she was sure.

"And the other parts?" she said. "How did that end?"

Josephine drew her shawl a little more tightly around herself. "Very poorly. You know that I am not a fighter. I had an aversion to violence, even then. But I convinced myself that I needed to play the part, that I could learn, that I would adjust to it. I practiced."

"You got hurt," Adaar guessed when Josephine hesitated.

"If only." She straightened up as if steeling herself. "During a particular intrigue, another bard was sent to kill my patron. We...fought, if you could call it that. It did not feel very much like the epic duels we sang about. I was terrified. I think that he was, too. We were at the top of a steep flight of stairs. He drew a knife, and I pushed him away from me…you can imagine the result."

Adaar could see the shame on her face. The guilt, even after all these years.

Adaar remembered the first person she had killed, too. The way she'd thrown up on her knees in the dirt after. It took a lot of practice to stop doing that part. Demons were easier. Hell, Red Templars were easier. They weren't really people anymore.

"It was self-defense," she said, trying to be gentle. "He would have killed you."

"But it was such a waste!" Adaar had rarely seen Josephine so animated: the words burst out of her, not loud, mindful of the guards, but sharp. Devastated. Her eyes gleamed, and Adaar fought the impulse to touch her, to comfort her. "And when I took off his mask, I knew him. We'd attended parties together. If I'd stopped to reason, if I'd used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug…"

It was just another blow to an old wound. Adaar weathered it. She knew Josephine didn't mean it like that, would never be that cruel, but Adaar knew the truth about herself, too. Knew, and accepted it.

Cassandra kept saying that she was the person they'd needed, exactly when they'd needed it. Stood to reason that sometimes the world needed a common thug.

"I will always wonder who he would have turned out to be," Josephine said. "That is why."

Adaar returned to the problem at hand. "These aren't boys on their first run, Josephine. They're part of a guild of assassins—"

"I know that. I know." She shook her head, impatient. "It is not their lives that most concern me, though I do think their deaths would be pointless. For what? For an old grudge so easily forgotten that the surviving descendents would sweep it away for a favor of status?" She scoffed. "They're bound by that old agreement, but no one else feels the same."

There was truth enough in that. Adaar had seen some of Josephine's exchanges with the Du Paraquettes. Hard to imagine that a hundred years ago, these families had been at each others' throats. They were just strangers now.

"What most concerns you, then?" she said.

Josephine looked up at her. Her fingers had pulled one of the cookies apart in her lap; it was a pile of crumbs now. "The lives of our people. Any of them could get hurt, could die, trying to destroy this contract. You could die."

Adaar considered her for a long moment. "You see our impasse, then," she said at last. "You are not willing to send me into mortal danger, and I am not willing to let you stay in the same."

"Yes." There was disappointment, but understanding, in Josephine's eyes. "I do see. And you have honored my request, above and beyond our agreement, so you can do what you see fit with a clear conscience. I won't protest."

Damn her. Even as she released Adaar, she bound her. Adaar wondered if she'd just played the Game for so long that she couldn't stop playing it, that she did it even subconsciously. That she knew, instinctively, that where pleading or begging wouldn't change Adaar's mind, this would.

And Adaar admired Josephine's idealism. Always had. Maybe she was cutthroat when it came to maneuvering alliances, but it was in metaphor only; she did her best to mitigate harm. She advocated for opportunity, for a future, not an ending.

Adaar wanted the world to work that way.

"This is exactly why I haven't talked to you in four days," Adaar muttered. "I knew you would talk me out of it." She took another cookie to console herself and stuffed it whole in her mouth. Maybe the crumbs would choke her, put her out of her misery.

"I mean it," Josephine pressed. "Do what you think—"

"—is best," Adaar finished. "Yeah. Wish I knew for sure what that was." She dusted her hands free of crumbs. "If this minister so much as looks at me funny—which is very likely, given the manners these kinds of people usually have—I'm storming the House of Repose that very hour."

Josephine reached across the space between them to touch her hand. "Thank you."

Adaar only nodded. Hard to do anything else as she looked at those soft fingertips grazing the backs of her knuckles, thinking inevitably of the last time they'd touched.

Josephine withdrew, and Adaar hoped that she would get up and leave; that she had gotten what she wanted, and there would be no need to discuss anything else.

"There is one other matter," Josephine said, her words more hesitant by far now.

Adaar didn't dare look at her face. She listened, waited, for the guillotine to drop.

"You kissed me," Josephine said, and Adaar closed her eyes against it. "After…"

Adaar would never forget it. Never. The relief she'd felt all the way down to her weary bones when she arrived outside Josephine's door to hear voices, to hear her voice, to realize that she was safe, alive—only for that relief to twist, become a terror so stark she'd never felt its like—

"I only…please understand, I don't want to assume that you harbor any tender feelings for me, I just…" Josephine let out a frustrated breath. "Listen to me stutter. I only want to understand what you meant by it."

Adaar opened her mouth before she even knew what she planned to say; she shut it again. Josephine waited, patient, not pushing.

Adaar could lie. Wave it off. Make the same excuses she'd imagined Josephine would make. Things would be awkward, probably. After all this, it was hard to imagine that they'd ever be as close as they had once been.

But Josephine deserved better than that. She'd gone out of her way to apologize, to explain. Now she asked to understand, to be given the same courtesy in return.

It would still be awkward, but maybe they'd get past it, someday. She could hope. It had carried her this far.

"I care about you," she said. She sounded steady enough. "Very much." She paused, cleared her throat. "Thought it was sort of obvious."

Josephine didn't reply. The silence—a few seconds that felt like years—pressed down on Adaar, threatening to crush her. She had to look, had to see…

Josephine stared at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. She looked an awful lot like she had after Adaar had kissed her.

Breathlessly, she said, "I thought...I thought it was possible, but…"

"I know. I didn't send an eyebrow poem." She fell back on bad humor like it was some kind of defense, like it wouldn't just make things worse. "Just a bunch of stupid trinkets. Awfully unclear of me. Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomf—"

She had not known that Josephine could move so quickly; she'd pushed the box of cookies out of the way, thrown herself against Adaar's side, and pulled Adaar's head down to kiss her before Adaar knew what was happening.

She'd tried not to remember. In those moments before the few hours of sleep she'd scraped for herself, she'd tried not to think about how it had felt. Josephine clinging to her, safe and warm and alive; Josephine pressing close to her, matching Adaar's desperation with her own fervor; Josephine's soft, sweet lips yielding beneath hers.

She was just as demanding as she'd been that night. Adaar had never expected, never imagined that—when she'd dared to imagine, anyway. That Josephine had a fire burning inside her to match Adaar's torch, and when their lips met, they knew one another's heat.

Josephine's hands framed Adaar's face, held her in place. Without Adaar's explicit say-so, her arms had wrapped around Josephine. She drank in the blissful noise of delight that came from Josephine's lips, didn't bother to catch the shawl as it fell and fluttered to the cart. Josephine touched her like she was something beloved, and she melted beneath the worship of those fingers, fell to pieces beneath the care of this deepening kiss, sweet with that lingering taste of the polvorones. Another few seconds of those soft lips moving with hers and she'd be tumbling Josephine down into the bed of the cart, and she doubted very much that Josephine would protest—

One of the guards called to another. Despite the heat, despite Josephine's body against hers, she heard it. It was a proprietary remark; there was no danger. But it felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over Adaar's head.

She tugged away, just enough to break the kiss, letting the cold night air come between them. "Wait."

Josephine made an impatient noise, following. "There are no assassins out—"

"It's not that."

Josephine's eyes searched her face. They looked a little glassy with want, with lust, with starlight.

It was a very good look on her, but it wasn't helping Adaar keep her head straight.

"Then what?" she asked. Her thumb ran over Adaar's cheek, once, twice.

She would not get through this if Josephine kept touching her, but she had to tell herself to let go three times before she actually took her arms from around Josephine. Josephine settled back to the cart, waiting, brow knit with confusion.

"This isn't a good idea," Adaar said.

Josephine leaned a little away, clearly stung. "Why not?"

Adaar glanced down the road, toward the nearest guard. Danaya's back was to them, but she wasn't far enough away, not nearly.

"People talk," she said. "As you've told me yourself. Even a short entanglement—"

"Short entanglement?" Josephine repeated, a thread of anger weaving through the hurt. "I am not interested in a fling, as you well—"

"Let me finish. Please."

Maybe something on Adaar's face convinced her; she took a breath and gestured, as if to say go ahead.

"This whole deal is going to restore your family's status," Adaar said. "Right?"

If Josephine found the change in subject strange, she didn't comment on it. "It will take more work than that, but—yes, this is the necessary beginning."

"How do you think that status would dip if everyone knew you were involved with me? What trade opportunities would you lose? Who would exclude your siblings from parties, your parents from plans?"

Josephine didn't answer right away. She thought about it, giving it a moment, turning it over, before she answered. "No one who has not already excluded us," she said. "No opportunities I have not already lost."

"Are you sure of that?"

"No one can ever be absolutely certain of anything," Josephine said evenly. "But I do not care."

"I know that isn't true. You've worked so hard to make this happen. Not just these last few months—years and years of work. What if just…being with me…would reverse all of that?"

Josephine slid off the cart and turned to face Adaar. Silently, Adaar offered out her shawl, and she took it, but let it hang loose from her hand.

"For my family, yes, I have worked," Josephine said. "So that they might get along without me, one day, if the worst were to happen. But I set all my trappings aside to join the Inquisition, knowing that I might well be cast as a heretic with the rest of you." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, as if this didn't trouble her at all. "It does not appear that this is our trajectory any longer. I've turned a deaf ear to many slights, but there are fewer of them every week."

"You'll have to turn a deaf ear to many more," Adaar said. She had to make Josephine understand. "Supporting me politically is very different from declaring a romantic relationship with a common thug."

Josephine looked at her, silent, inscrutable, and Adaar almost squirmed under the weight of that gaze. It felt like Josephine saw a great deal. Things Adaar didn't want her to see, things she didn't intend to show her.

"You know that I don't see you that way," Josephine said.

"But other people do," Adaar argued. "Other people will—"

"Other people think many silly things," Josephine cut across her.

"Tell me if this is silly, then. When this is all over, if I'm still standing when the dust clears, I will have a very simple life left to me. A little land, a little house. You have connections, responsibilities, that won't fit in the space I have to offer. Would you give all that up to sink to my level?"

Josephine let out a low breath. "I see."

The way she was looking at Adaar, Adaar very much doubted it. "See what?"

"You are afraid that I am going to hurt you."

Adaar spluttered. "That's not what I—"

"You think that when this is over, you will not be special anymore, and I will not want you anymore." Josephine stepped forward, just enough to wrap the shawl around Adaar's shoulders. "You're wrong."

She patted the fabric into place, as if to protect Adaar from the chill. Every touch of her hand weakened a little more of Adaar's resolve.

"I am not going to change my mind," Josephine said. "When you have gotten over your reservations—"

"My reservations? You're the one who should have—"

"I will be here, Herah," Josephine said, relentless. "And I will still want the same thing. Lest you accuse me of manipulating you with my silver tongue, I will leave you to think."

Adaar had lost all language, all ability to protest. Josephine took one more polvorone from the box, but left the rest with a last pointed look at Adaar.

She was not afraid.

...Was she?

Go to Chapter 6 -->

#josephine montilyet #inquisitor adaar #f!adaar x josephine #f!adaar/josephine #dragon age #inquisition #mutual pining #friends to lovers #developing relationship #class differences #universe writes

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ruensroad · 5 years ago

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asleep in a bed of roses

for @dyabolos <3

Nie Huaisang had woken up covered in roses, which was an altogether better outcome than he could’ve hoped for. Like many things in this blur of a weekend, he blamed Wei Ying fully for supplying the alcohol and full house, and for letting Nie Huaisang drink himself into a drunken blackout with so many cameras around.

The fact his drink-ruddy face was not in the society page was a near miracle. What had made it in was a picture of him sleeping, passed out in a dramatic slump like he was posing with a bunch of roses tucked in carefully around him. Artful, deliberate. A canvas was sat up and the bare edge of what was probably some art student drawing him, but it was cut off by the angle. Frustrating, that.

Still, he wasn’t Nie Huaisang, rising fashion model and gossip columnist, for no reason. Once he had a good two coffees in him - black with sweet cream, because Jiang Cheng was a merciful god unlike his unholy demon of a brother, who Nie Huaisang was going to blame until this whole debacle aired out - he set to work figuring out just who that mysterious artist was, and why they’d decided to throw roses over his sleeping body.

The first route was a simple one: the artist had drawn him for a claim to fame. It wasn’t as easy as snapping a photo, for certain, but if the artist was good enough, a painter maybe, then he could make a fortune selling such a thing to Nie Huaisang’s… admirers.

But as a week passed, then another, no paintings blipped on his radar. Wei Ying laughed that he was being too paranoid. Jiang Cheng insisted he wasn’t being paranoid enough. Elder Brother just rolled his eyes and told him to go look for himself, for once, and find his own answers. So he did, feeling oddly vulnerable as he walked the art buildings with more confusion than interest hoping for something. Anything. Until finally, a month later, he found what he was looking for.

Well, sort of.

Dionysus asleep in a bed of roses, it was titled. He knew the pose from the tabloid, but otherwise it wasn’t him lying there, beautifully rendered in acrylic. It was a masterpiece of colors, if a bit amateur in some of the details, but Nie Huaisang found himself studying it closer regardless. It was a gorgeous piece, even if he was getting an odd sense the artist only used paint because it was for the project, and that brought his attention snapping to the name listed in the corner.

Artist: Mo Xuanyu.

He tilted his head, considering that. He knew a Mo family and kept a wide berth from them, as most who knew them did. They weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor. Utterly unremarkable save for their perchance for general meanness and turning their noses up at everyone. If this was a Mo from that family, surely they’d have just snapped a picture of him and sold it.

But this… this had taken time. This had taken love. This Mo Xuanyu had taken a chance to paint him and had made it into someone else... all for a grade?

He told himself he wasn’t disappointed by that. Or by the fact his face was not the one up there. It was still a nice painting, one he wouldn’t mind putting in his apartment, if push came to shove, and he decided that he would, if only for the laughs his friends would give him knowing he was the muse to such a piece of beauty.

The teacher looked perplexed at his request to buy the painting, which got him what he’d wanted all along: Mo Xuanyu’s dorm area. (He wanted the cell number, but that was a breach of too much privacy and the teacher knew it, which, good for her.)

Now, here he was, standing in the lobby of the smallest dorm on campus, a near dozen art students staring at him like some kind of Greek God, wide eyed and startled.

“I’m looking for Mo Xuanyu,” he said, chin high, and all the faces turned to the one that had looked the most startled of all of them. He was a lovely man, slender, with delicate hands, and nervously raised one to signal Nie Huaisang over to him.

“This is about the roses,” was the first proper sentence stuttered from Mo Xuanyu when they were alone in the corner. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I saw someone with a camera and I didn’t want them to make fun of you.”

Nie Huaisang blinked at that, reading the open, scared honesty easily enough in the man’s face. He was slightly taller, but definitely younger, and had a charming ink stain on his chin. His eyes were dark, too, like pools of ink newly wetted and lined in red kohl. Nie Huaisang had to shake himself a little when he realized he was staring.

“So you drew me instead?” He knew he sounded incredulous, but was rewarded with a contrite look and wringing hands.

“I’m sorry,” Mo Xuanyu told him. “I had a project due and my model couldn’t make it to our session… and I just - you were perfectly posed!”

Nie Huaisang had not been ready for the honesty, but it was nothing compared to the earnest awe he was getting now. “I saw the roses in a vase and put them around you, like you were modeling for me and had just fallen asleep. Everyone was too busy laughing at me to take pictures of you.”

“You could have taken a picture, made a small fortune,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, carefully controlling his voice back. Mo Xuanyu was looking at him like he was something wondrous, beautiful and lovely, and it had nothing to do with his celebrity status, but how he’d passed out?

“I don’t need a small fortune,” Mo Xuanyu told him, a tad desperate now. “I know you don’t believe me, and I’m sorry. I was planning on taking the painting down the moment the next one was done and throwing it out -”

“Absolutely not.” Nie Haisang cut across with such force Mo Xuanyu actually stepped back. He forced himself to calm down, but it was hard. Throw out such a masterpiece? Was he insane? “How can I buy it from you if it’s covered in dumpster shit?”

His demand had Mo Xuanyu blinking owlishly at him, then total confusion flickered over his face. Nie Huaisang felt a dawning horror to see it. Surely, this talented man didn’t think his painting was worth trash? Surely -

“Why would you want to buy it? I barely got an A on it,” Mo Xuanyu told him, as though to assure him of its worthlessness. So he was hopeless then, gods. “And paint is not my usual medium, so it’s terribly flawed.”

“Every piece of art is flawed,” Nie Huaisang told him, no nonsense, and went for his wallet. “Trust me on that. I’m the most flawed piece of art around.”

“I doubt that very much,” Mo Xuanyu told him, breathless and earnest and almost too quiet for Nie Huaisang to hear. It was his turn to stare at the man owlishly and match the man’s blush with his own.

“Oh, um, thank you.” Nie Huaisang wanted to kick himself for such a lame answer and drew out a couple large bills from his billfold with far more grace. “Will this be enough for a down payment?”

The man’s blush worsened, a very fetching color on his lighter skin. He needed more sun. “Too much.”

“Not enough,” Nie Huaisang decided to answer that in pure challenge and went for another bill. He was stopped with those slender fingers wrapping about his wrist and grinned in victory, even when Mo Xuanyu flinched away in apology. “This is enough, then?”

“It… it is,” Mo Xuanyu told him, weak and dazed, but did not reach for the money. With a huff, Nie Huaisang folded them and stepped in to tuck them into the pocket of the man’s jacket. Instantly, he smelled a faint perfume, which shouldn’t have worked for on a man, but oddly it made him smell… holy shit, was that honey?

“I think I need your number,” Nie Huaisang said, bolder than he felt, and met Mo Xuanyu’s wide eyes squarely. “So you can call me when the painting is ready to be moved.”

“I… yes, of course.”

“And so I can call to ask when you’re free for dinner too,” Nie Huaisang added, almost in afterthought, and watched a shy smile slowly overtake Mo Xuanyu’s face. It was just as lovely as the rest of him, how intriguing. “If you want.”

“Of - of course,” Mo Xuanyu told him, pulling a Sharpie out of his pocket and writing his number on the inside of Nie Huaisang’s wrist. He told himself his skin wasn’t tingling, but it really was, and instantly warmed by the heat coming off Mo Xuanyu’s palm. “And I’m free right now if you want to make it a lunch instead, no call required.”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip to keep down a wild grin. More and more interesting, he hadn’t met a man this genuinely sweet in years. “Lunch it is.”

#ruenwrites #sangyu #nie huaisang #mo xuanyu #shipping a rarepair?#it's more likely than you think #the untamed

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sustraiii · 4 years ago

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TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 4

After nearly six months, the story finally returns.

After months away from operating as a full team themselves, ZRCN are back taking missions again. Things take a turn when an old ally reappears...

many thanks to @neopoliitan for proof-reading editing for me again on this chapter!

NEELA

All four members of team ZRCN were on a mission for the first time in months. Neela would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t feel a little strange, but it was good to have the team back together.

It hadn’t taken Cordovan long to start classes again at the Academy after he had reunited with his team. He seemed eager enough - but based on what he told the three of them, his mother, Wren, had been wary of him returning; she deemed it as still being too soon. No-one had said anything at the time, but Neela was sure she was not the only one who believed Wren was right to feel that way - even she still found herself fretting about him. It had definitely been something of a relief when their professors started off slow upon his return.

Today’s mission found Team ZRCN patrolling the streets of Mantle on a Search-and-Destroy mission, attempting to deal with a small pack of Sabyrs that had been sighted. Ultimately it had ended up as a much easier mission than expected, and Neela couldn’t help but wonder if their professors had purposefully sent them on a more low-risk mission for Cordovan’s sake.

Once they had taken out the last visible Sabyr, Zelde had deemed it best to split up and canvas the area to ensure there were no stragglers - she and Xanthos headed in one direction, Neela and Cordovan heading the opposite direction. As they walked, they kept in contact through their scrolls.

“Have you spotted anything yet?” Neela asked, looking ahead all the while.

“Nope, nothing of interest to report on our end. ” Came Xanthos’s quick response. “Oh, wait I lied - Zelde’s looking like she might throttle me.”

“What have you done now, Ravi?” Neela asked, finding herself grinning as she spoke. From beside her, Cordovan chuckled.

“He’s singing to me.” Zelde cut in.

“It’s not that bad!” Xanthos protested. “My mother always said I had a lovely voice. We’ll settle this right now - Nee, tell me if this sounds bad.”

There was a brief pause before Xanthos launched into a made-up song. The lyrics could be best described as nonsensical, starting off with a few lines about being glad to be back together, before taking a comedic turn. Truthfully, Xanthos was not a bad singer - and would have had a more pleasant voice if he chose not to sing in the most annoying way possible. Before he had a chance to finish the song, however, a loud ringing sound sharply interfered with the call. Neela couldn’t help but flinch at the noise - ever since the night on Shizukana, she had become notably jumpier when things took her by surprise..

“Did you hear that?” Zelde’s voice asked over the scroll. Based on the clarity of her voice, Neela assumed she had taken the scroll from Xanthos.

“We heard it,” Neela confirmed. “It sounded closer to you than us. Meet us there?”

“Sounds like a plan. See you there.”

There was a click as Zelde hung up, and Neela put her own scroll away, before turning to see if Cordovan was ready. “Okay, let’s roll,” She said, making a gesture for them to move. Her voice faltered when she took note of how still Cordovan had become, his eyes firmly closed, and his hands formed into fists. “Are you okay?”

When she got no response, she took a step towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Cor?”

This time her voice seemed to have an effect on him - his eyes snapped open and shifted to her. For a moment they held each other’s gaze, neither of them saying anything, until Cordovan finally seemed to relax a little.

“Sorry,” Cordovan was quick to apologise. “I’m fine -- honest.” He stopped, but by the look on his face it was not from lack of having anything to say; he seemed torn between saying more or keeping his mouth shut at the risk of opening up old wounds.

Neela squeezed his shoulder. “I understand.” He said nothing in response, but she hoped that the look he gave her meant he knew she was telling the truth.

After the moment passed the two set off to meet back up with their teammates, reuniting with them as Zelde eliminated what looked to be an Atlesian Knight - one much bulkier than its kin. Xanthos was grappling with another robot of a similar appearance, but was having a harder time dealing with it on account of the sword it was wielding. It was fair to assume Xanthos and Zelde had been successful in dealing with them so far as there were only two more left. Hearing his teammates arrive, Xanthos turned and gave them a glance, before beating his assailant back with a lash of his whip.

“Took your time,” He panted as he fell back to where the team were standing.

“We got a little lost,” Neela lied. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cordovan giving her an appreciative glance. Xanthos gave a shrug before focusing back on the robot as Zelde strode purposefully over to them. She gave them both a brief glance as if silently checking them, then gripped Neela’s arm and moved her forward, gesturing for Cordovan to follow suit.

“We need a smokescreen,” She said urgently. “Are you two alright to do that?”

“Hey, if we’re gonna use that, you should at least use the name I thought of for that attack!” Xanthos chimed in. Zelde gave him a look and motioned with her head for him to focus on the task at hand. “Come on, you know Mistdirection was cool.” He said as he turned away from them, electricity crackling as he lashed his whip at the robot he was dealing with.

With the orders already given from Zelde it was only a matter of getting themselves into position so they could execute their smokescreen, or ‘mistdirection’, as Xanthos had lovingly dubbed it. Zelde stepped aside momentarily but kept close so she would be able to land the final blow.

Already generating mist around her with her semblance, Neela looked over her shoulder and called out to Cordovan who stood further back, one hand outstretched - ready to throw up a shield with his own semblance. “Think you can handle this?”

“I’ll try my best.” Cordovan shrugged - which wasn’t the most comforting of gestures given the circumstances. Neela gave a simple nod and turned her gaze to face ahead. She really hoped he would be able to get a shield up in time.

Neela took a breath before calling out to the lone robot - stealing its attention from Xanthos. It fixated on her with a fiery red gaze that sent a chill down her spine.

For a moment it did nothing - if it were not a robot, Neela almost would have thought it was sizing her up.

Then it charged.

With a quick, fluid motion Neela threw her arms upwards. The mist she had been generating pulled upwards too, so as to better cover herself and Cordovan. Her vision was obscured more now, and with Cordovan’s shields having no visual cues unless hit, it was a brief waiting game to see what would happen. The sound of footsteps in front of them only grew louder until the sword the robot was carrying hit a shield Cordovan had raised just in time. The shield dissipated on impact due to the force of impact and the robot stumbled back. Zelde darted out of cover, blasting at the metal enemy with a rapid shot from her weapon.

The robot turned its gaze on her and readied itself to strike again. Zelde did not flinch. “Now, Ravi!” She shouted.

Neela hadn’t even seen Xanthos moving into position; she had been too busy focusing on her semblance to recognise her teammate circling around for an attack. He wasn’t using his weapon to attack, but rather his fists. As he got within a few feet of the robot he drew back his fist - his whole left arm being covered by a golden sheen for a moment - before he smashed it into the robot’s torso.

The hit was enough to dent the metal plate but seemed to do little in the way of actually stopping the thing. It took a swing at Xanthos with its free hand, only narrowly avoiding smacking him on the head thanks to a timed shout from Zelde warning him to roll out of the way. With the robot making another error in its attack Zelde took the opportunity to step closer to it, aiming to get a hit at point-blank range. She had just about lined up the shot when her semblance flared up. It seemed her precognition was a little too late; just as she seemed to recover, the robot swung upwards with its free hand and swatted her aside like she was nothing more than a pesky fly. Her aura flared up considerably, and she was clearly winded by the force of the blow.

The robot was not letting up even though Zelde had been knocked down. In fact, Neela couldn’t help but notice that it was almost striding towards her leader with a sense of purpose… as though it intended to finish her off there and then.

“Don’t you touch her!” Neela yelled, quickly readying Triton’s Maw. The trident shifted into its spear form with the press of a button on the hilt. She gave the grip on the shaft a twist - a new improvement following the events on Shizukana - which ignited fire dust within her weapon, one of three new types she could now more easily switch between. She charged, driving the fiery spearhead into the back of the robot as hard as she could. She knew it wasn’t as much force as, say, Xanthos could muster, but it was working as intended; the heat from her weapon was beginning to melt away at the metal on the back of the robot, which was apparently weaker than the rest of its body.

Given time she might have been able to cause some real damage or maybe even take it down, but the robot was able to knock her aside - much like it had with Zelde - by twisting its body sharply. Neela fell backwards but was otherwise untroubled. The robot seemed to hesitate for a moment, before turning its attention back to Zelde. This time it came at her with speed, raising its weapon above its head with both hands. Zelde had managed to get to her feet by that point, but was hunched over slightly and unable to properly defend herself. She might have been cleaved in two -- had it not been for Cordovan jumping in front of her and throwing up another shield.

The robot never got a second chance to collide with Cordovan’s shield. Just as it was about to swing down once more, a shape appeared from behind Neela. It was only Xanthos making a small gasp in surprise that she even caught it in time - the glint of a blade rushing past her.

When her sight adjusted she could see clearly what she hadn’t before - the colourless outline of a person driving what looked to be a flaming katana into the small tear Neela had caused in the robot’s back. As the person pushed, they became more and more visible, until Neela was able to make out the form of Helia Vines once again coming to their rescue. The older huntress continued pushing with her weapon until finally, the katana pierced through the other side. She withdrew her weapon quickly, and the robot jolted forward a little, before finally succumbing to the damage it had suffered and toppled over.

Cordovan released his shield, giving Zelde a small pat on the back, then looked towards Helia who was still looming over the fallen robot. “What are you doing here?” He questioned - something they were all thinking.

Helia didn’t respond for a moment, still looking at the android, but finally she gave a swish of her katana and extinguished the flames.

Huh. Where’s the other katana? Neela pondered, recalling that Helia always used two.

There was little in the way of pleasantries when Hellia Vines responded to Cordovan’s question, only a trace of urgency in her tone as she turned to address them. “You’re in danger.”

#team zrcn fic #team ZRCN #Zelde Sewick #Xanthos Ravindra #Cordovan Radcliff #Neela Oxford #helia vines

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

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hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: hehe hello cuties, before i get to the chapter, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support and lovely messages you that you sent to me for the last chapter. as I said, it was one that was super personal to me and for it to be so relatable and emotional for you all makes my heart feel so, so full. these themes are going to continue, so please read the warnings cuties. as always, thank you so very much for reading my stories <3

Part 6

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, HARD fluff to HARD angst, some sensual-azz fuckin’ (muhaha), unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!), lil bit of breath play, nipple play (f), cumshot, mentions of food, changbin has a cute butt (that’s the tweet)

CWs: aftereffects of traumatic experiences, mentions of past toxic relationship, self sabotaging tendencies

Word count: 6.6k (remember when i said i wasn’t gonna write long chapters? wellllll...ooP)

Chapters

When you were back in high school, before you knew a thing about what love was, your Art teacher had given you an assignment: what do you think that love looks like? At first, all you had really known love to be was the kind that you shared with your friends and your parents, and maybe with your family dog. You had read about love in your favorite books and seen it in your favorite movies, but you had never really considered what it looked like. Obviously, the assignment was all up for you to decide, but there being a million and one things that you considered love to be, to put it to paper with your own hand was something different entirely.

At first, when you thought of love, you thought of the typical: hearts, hugs, the colors red and pink. But, this was too simple.

“What are you drawing?” You had sneakily whispered to your classmate.

She shrugged, and continued scratching away at her sketchbook. You had peeked to see what she was putting together, and for her, she had started to draw what looked like a house on the edge of a lake. The house was in the middle of nowhere and it was surrounded by trees of all different kinds and there was a single bench that sat at the edge of the water.

You figured, love can be a place, so you started drawing that.

Your pencil swiped over the paper in strokes big and small, and the lead rubbed off on the side of your pinky as you outlined the corners of your apartment building.

You thought, I love the people who live here, therefore, this must be love.

It made sense. People and places could make up love.

When you turned in your drawing of your apartment building you were surprised to see the variety of other paintings and drawings that the other students had turned in. One student had turned in a whole piece that had been drawn with oil pastel. It was a jumbling of colors: mostly red, as you had expected, but it also held streaks of gold, black and teal. You remember your teacher really liking that one.

Today, if you would’ve gotten that assignment, it would’ve been completely different.

It was a sunny afternoon when you sat at your easel with your pencil in hand. Drawing out the mere outline and rough draft, tears welled in your eyes. A long time ago you had promised yourself that if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The sun filled your room in the golden hour of the day best it could from your frosted glass window. The warmth that the rays held made your whole body swell with a warmth, and it gave your shaking arms the power to keep going.

You brushed lightly over the rough canvas with your pencil, tracing out the lines as if they were the very memories that you had kept painted in your mind.

You drew a snowy night, not much unlike the ones that you had been seeing recently. You drew an empty alley, not lit by much light. You drew the way that the oil slicked in potholes mixed with the snow. You planned out the way that the industry of the city lit his back as he stared out into that dark expanse where you knew that darker figures were hiding. You drew him. You drew him on that exact same night that you had fist seen him: a dark outline, who would become full of color.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“What’s that?”

Changbin pointed to your easel with a sheet draped over it.

“A surprise.” You answered. “I know that I’m not good with surprises, but, are you?”

“I don’t mind them.” He chuckled. “For me?”

“Mmhm. Its not ready yet so you’ll have to wait.”

“I’m fine with waiting.” He sighed out.

You nuzzled closer into his bare chest, right up to his heartbeat. Both of you were admittedly a bit dewy in your sweaty afterglow, but this was of no concern to you. These past few days, this had been your preferred way to drift off to sleep. Even on the occasional times when the both of you would be too busy to make the time, when you finally could see him, it was everything to you. In his large and muscled arms, there was no place else where you had felt safer. You too wrapped your whole being around him with a feeling so close it must’ve been unreal. If you could hear the muffled little rhythm of his heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear yours.

“Soon, all this snow is gonna melt, and then I can take you to loads of other places. I’m just getting started.” Changbin’s airy breath tickled your scalp.

“Really? Taking me to all the usual places?” You mocked.

“No.” He said seriously. “I want to take you to places I haven’t taken anyone before. My secret places. I...you know...wouldn’t mind if you could draw them for me either.”

You giggled, “Ever heard of taking a picture?”

“Hey! It’s not the same.”

“Fineee. Okay, okay. I’ll draw them for you.” Your fingertips traced down the muscles of his back. “Maybe I should start charging if you’re gonna keep being like this.”

“You don’t do pro-bono?” He ran along with your joke.

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll consider it.”

He tsked, “Could you please draw for me?”

You masked another adoring chuckle. “I do like it when you say please.”

Everything about the one moment felt so sickly sweet, it was like you must’ve dreamt it up. In between the swaddling of sheets, you tried your best to enjoy the one moment: it was just enough to keep the doubtful whispers away. After all that he had done, said, all the pain that he had kissed away, or compliments he had hushed into your ear, the creeping feeling that you hardly deserved it all would rear it’s head time and again, even when you didn’t expect it to.

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you fell into the serenity of just existing together. After a while, you would narrow your focus best on the way that his breaths would rise and fall and the way this his body heat would melt into yours under the mess of sheets that neither of you bothered to fix. He would use his thumb to rub reassuring little strokes into the back of your neck where he had you.

Your hand would fall down his arm, all the way down this wrist where his scar lived. Ever since you had noticed it, you couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time that you did, you were given a tangible reminder of everything that he had been, and was, to you. You rose the uneven skin to your lips to gift a little kiss to it.

Changbin tried his best to hide his giddy smirk at the action.

“Do you have to leave tonight?” You settled his arm around you once more.

“No. Not tonight. But, for the next few days I don’t think I’ll be able to. They put me on the matinee shifts at the theater. I fucking hate those. No one comes in at all so it’s like I’m just sitting there.”

“Wanna sneak me in some time this week? I should have a break.”

“I would but...I’d prefer to keep that job. As much as I hate it.”

“We could do something this Thursday? You aren’t busy on Thursdays as much right?”

“Ahhhh I think so.” Changbin rolled the two of you over, allowing himself to lean over top of you. With a sly smirk he lowered his voice to say, “You know, my ribs really aren’t hurting as much any more.”

“Oooh? Good to know.” You ruffled his curly strands.

“I’m trying to say that I can go for another round if you would like to?” He bowed his head to kiss lightly into your neck and the fading love bites that he had put there himself.

Your eyes wandered to your clock telling you that it was nearly 2 in the morning. If you had better judgement, you would’ve said no. But, these days, judgement wasn’t something that you took too seriously.

He kissed down deeper, and pulled at your skin just in the way that he knew you liked it. Changbin knew the ins and outs of you perfectly, as well as exactly what to do send you quivering under him. All he had to do was press his body into yours so you could feel his weight, and it made you fold just for him. He followed his kisses up your jaw where he then lead them into your bottom lip and over every angle that your mouth would crave him. He often didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but between your parted mouths, his tongue would sneakily find yours, and he would slowly slide it against yours.

“Do you want to?” He muttered between kisses.

Under the covers, his hand cascaded down your side in a way that tickled slightly, but also made you shiver.

He broke from his kiss to hold your eyes seriously. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I want to.” You reached up to hold his sleepy and puffy face in your hands.

Changbin said nothing more, but instead returned to weaving kisses back down your neck. Under your waist, you felt him angle up your hips higher and the heat of his tip teased at your entrance still slick with your arousal from before, and now renewed. He bowed his head down to your chest to pump himself with a few muffled grunts. After, he rose his head to hold your eyes with his own. The muscles on his arms flared where he held himself up, and those adorable little stretch marks in the corners of his arms moved with them.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

You melted under his compliment. No matter who many times he had said it, you still weren’t use to it.

“So are youuuu.” You said with a dreamy tone. One other thing that you had figured out about him was that returning such comments to him made him a flustered mess. It was utterly adorable for someone as stoic as him at times.

“Psh.” He scoffed, then lowered his voice once again. “Beautiful how I fill you up sweetheart?” Changbin angled your waist up higher, then spread your thighs, finally pushing them into your body to tighten you. He aligned himself over you, then pushed himself in agonizingly slow. “Beautiful how I can fuck you so deep? How I can m-make you...”

He had given up on talking, but rather thrust himself further into you with his shaking breaths and little “mmm’s” getting caught on his tongue.

“B-Bin...fuck, f-feels s-so good--”

He pushed your legs up closer to your body, allowing himself greater access to graze your g-spot. Your busy fingers found their way around his back to claw all the way down. He still relished in taking his time with you, and would never rush fucking you--it was as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. You returned around him, tightening has he fucked in and out with his own pace. After a while of doing the same, his hand crept around your neck to give you a couple choking squeezes that made you whimper out like a kitten. He would never keep it going for long however, but rather indulged himself in the way that your gasps would remind him of how good it all felt. After, Changbin dipped his thumb into your mouth to run the pad over your tongue.

The tip of his teeth caught the skin of his lip which he bit into hard.

“You feel so good baby. F-feels so good on my cock. It’s all for you angel.”

An unrestrained groan escaped from your mouth as he continued and your orgasm pooled steadily. In and attempt to steady yourself you clawed back into your pillow supporting your head.

He swiftly changed your position, taking both of his hands to turn you on your stomach. Without a pause he lead his swelling head back into your pussy where he kept on going at his favored slow pace. Your face smushed into the pillow with hips raised in the air. The fluffy fabric muffled your helpless moans.

“Louder for me princess.” He growled.

With one hand he arched over to tweak at your nipples with force: twisting and pulling, then he wet his hand with his own saliva to let your skin feel the cold and wet sensation. His other hand he used to reach around and rub circles into your clit. He was gentle at first, but worked your bud harder and faster. Your knees and legs shook the faster he rubbed, and you spilled your loudest and most unapologetic moans into the room that had risen in temperature.

“Fuck...” He swore. Changbin allowed himself to quicken his pace inside of you. The action alone sent you spinning wildly into your orgasm: a tear of white hot heat that shook your whole body and turned your swollen bud into a sensitive mess under his fingers which did stop, even when when he knew that you had just cum all over them. The harder he pressed, the more wonderfully painful it felt, and you let your tears fall hot from your eyes to the sheet. You attempted to call out his name, but no words that left your mouth made sense.

He turned your body once more, using brutish hands on your hips as he pulled you overtop of the sheets to fuck you into the bed once more with your sweating back stuck to the comforter. Your body shook with your orgasm still, and you needily brought his lips down to yours to kiss him with your thank you’s as he milked himself out in your tightening walls.

Changbin was animalistic in the way that he finally let his hips snap over you, at last reaching his orgasm mere seconds after he had pulled out and jerked himself over you. Ribbons of his white cum came spilling out over your gasping chest and stomach and dripped lazily from his pink and flaring tip. He took in shallow inhales as he did, and kept rubbing until the very end and he had nothing more to give. Even as his hand dropped, you took his dick in your own hand to just twist lightly and ride out the last of his orgasm. He softened in your hand with eyes closed in his focus and came down.

The combination of your lust held in the air for a few silent moments, then he collapsed back down next to you into a blushing and exhausted mess. His pink chest shook, and his soft heather eyes found you.

“We should...probably take a shower right?”

“Probably.” You grinned.

Changbin leaned over to plant even more sugary sweet kisses on top of your lips. He always was one to admire his work, so he chuckled lightly seeing the way that he had properly covered you in his cum.

“I can help you clean that off.”

The bed shook and he rose to get you something to clean up. You wished that you could’ve moved to see him saunter around your room without a single piece of clothing on. It was no secret that he had one hell of a cute butt.

Changbin helped you out of the bed, finding that your legs had started to shake and betray you a bit more harshly than you had intended. He ran the water for you both, inviting you in to take the task of cleaning you to himself. He took the suds in his own hands to brush them all over your body and took careful and gentle attention to the more sensitive parts of your body. He giggled a little at the way that even under the warm water, your nipples would still harden when he ghosted his fingers over them with soap.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scolded him.

He took care of the little bruises on your neck and collarbones, giving them kisses under the clear stream of water as if he was healing them. After he was done, you did the same and cleaned out his hair with your shampoo. He always let out happy little groans when you would massage his scalp. He still had a couple scrapes on his face from a few weeks ago, so you kissed all of them too.

Changbin’s favorite part was how he could mess up your hair with the towel afterword and make you look as ridiculous as possible. Of course, you would do the same. You would brush your teeth together, and dress somewhat all of the way back again. A while ago he decided keeping clothes at your place was a good idea, but you ended up wearing them more than he did. You blamed it on dirty laundry, but you really did just like the way that they would smell all tangled up in your blankets on your nights alone.

With bare legs, you would tangle yourselves all up in eachother once more, and not even bother to look at what time it was then.

As it had become his habit, before the two of you drifted to sleep, Changbin would kiss into your forehead “l love you. You know?”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chocolatey goodness wafted up Felix’s nose, and he let out a happy little squeal.

“~Thank youuu~” He beamed to the waitress.

He took a careful sip not to burn his tongue, then turned his head to watch the way that the snow had started to flurry outside of the diner window. Minho flipped the pages of his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Whatcha reading?” Felix said with a little tap of his feet under the table.

Rather than answering, Minho sighed out and closed his book. “Nothing now. If you’re gonna ask questions, then I’ll get distracted, so, nothing now.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Felix frowned.

Minho rolled his eyes, suddenly becoming exasperated over his new friend’s dramatic reaction.

“It was something that I’m assigned to read for one of my classes. It’s about economics or something like that. I’m kind of just skimming; reading because I have to....” He took a sip of his coffee. “Y/n should be reading the same book considering that we are in the same class...but I haven’t even seen you with it yet.”

You prodded at your plate of half eaten waffles. “About that...”

“If you think that I’m gonna give you the SparkNotes you are sorely mistaken.”

You writhed in your seat a bit like an upset toddler. “Come onnnnn, Minho, you know that I don’t have time for that, working at the library and such...”

“--More like stealing my roommate from me. I hardly see him at our apartment anymore.” Minho made his remark with a type of snark, but knowing him, he was still just as sarcastic.

“Yeah,” Felix piped up. “The three of us haven’t hung out in a while either!”

“...Sorry, I’ve just been getting...caught up in things.”

Minho cleared his throat. “I’m not saying that its a bad thing. It’s just something that I’ve noticed.”

Felix nodded, “Me too! I’m really happy for you!! So is Chan, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t seen you so happy and like, not serious in such a long time. Really, I’m so so glad that you have someone like him for a boyfriend.”

Your fork scratched your plate. “--Boyfriend?”

“Yeah!” Felix beamed. “Isn’t that what he is?”

Minho too held an expectant gaze.

“I-I don’t think...we hadn’t really talked about what it is that we’re doing...or are.”

“So you’re saying that he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho cocked his head in his confusion. “Well, you ask him and he’ll think that it’s a different story.”

“H-he talks about me?” You sat up straighter.

“Well, he hasn’t explicitly said anything, but the way that he never shuts the fuck up...” Minho suddenly became much more interested in his coffee.

“What? You don’t want him to be your boyfriend?” Felix looked just as confused.

In your hands, you crinkled up the napkin that you had resting on your lap. You hadn’t in fact, ever thought of such. Merely, you had thought that you loved him, and that you enjoyed being around him and that he had made you happy. Was it odd that the thought had never crossed your mind?

“And he hasn’t said anything about it either?” Felix leaned in. To his side, Minho nudged his arm in the most non-obvious way possible.

“...No?”

Your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“Af...after everything that happened back then? Didn’t you say that he like, confessed or something and you did the same? You’ve only been hanging out with eachother for weeks?” Felix pushed his cocoa away from himself to lay his hands flat on the table.

“I...don’t think that we should press the issue.” Minho patted down the boy sitting next to him.

It was the feeling that you had been avoiding for weeks: that kind of uncertainty and fear that you had pushed down so far after the night that it all came together, but you didn’t expect it to manifest like this. In your chest a knot tied itself together tightly and in a way that you couldn’t explain.

“I...just like what's happening right now between us, I didn’t think that he would want--”

Felix nudged Minho by the hip, motioning for him to let him out of his side of the booth. Minho rolled his eyes, but did so muttering, “I said we shouldn’t press the issue but here you go...”

Felix slid over to your side of the booth, nearly shoving you up close to the wall with how near he scooched to you. Carefully, he removed the napkin that you had scrunched up into your palm.

“Relax okay? You’re doing it again. Just calm down.” While his tone was sweet, you couldn’t help but find some condescending edge--real or not.

“Doing what? I don’t think that I’m doing anything wrong??”

Felix let you squeeze his hand tight, as patient as ever.

“Do you not want him to be your boyfriend?” He repeated. “But he treats you so nicely? There’s nothing to worry about.”

At first you were angry at yourself, angry at yourself for feeling the hot tears well up in your eyes in public,

I’m so fucking pathetic.

Secondly, you were furious at yourself for feeling anything less than the happiness that had made up your whole world for the past few weeks. You had worked so hard just to make something that made sense, and he made sense. Why did it have to be much more complicated than that?

“Y/n?” Felix bowed his head down with his softening gaze.

“F-Felix, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m just trying to understand so I can help you out with this. Clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you about, I don’t know, putting a label on it? If that’s the right word--”

Minho sucked at his teeth, “He’s too nice to say that you’re self sabotaging again. Listen, you don’t have to have the answers right now, we’re just saying you’re getting in your own way at having something that could be really great.”

Felix shot daggers in Minho’s direction.

“I wasn’t gonna say this, but Bin’s been going through shit right now with his family that I’m sure he isn’t telling you about. Someone tipped them off about what he’s been doing and they’re furious. He’s been telling them that no one knows that he’s tied to them when he raps but they aren’t listening. Literally when he goes to see you it’s like, what’s helping him forget all that shit. He cares about you a fuck ton, and I’ve heard about it all. He wants you to be his girlfriend. Believe me. Don’t know why he hasn’t brought it up yet, but...”

Felix took in a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to you. “Besides all that, I think that you should at least talk to him about this all. I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m sorry for making assumptions. At least, if you and him talk about it, you can figure something out right?”

You took at the papery and crinkled napkin and dabbed it harshly on your eyes to dry your tears before they had a chance to run further down your face.

“Why the fuck doesn’t he tell me anything?” Your voice wavered.

Minho folded his hands on the table. “Knowing him, he probably thinks that it would be burdening to you. Selfless dick. He thinks that putting that shit on you somehow makes him seem like a handful or some shit.”

“B-but I don’t feel that way?”

“Then tell him!!” Felix’s volume rose. “When you talk to him, tell him that.”

“What the fuck is this, a drama?” Minho laughed a little. “These communication skills are god-awful.”

“Oh fuck off Minho,” Felix rubbed your back to soothe you. “This is real life, and we’re here to help out Y/n.”

“That’s fuck off Minho-hyung to you.” The older boy stuck out his tongue.

You wiped your nose against your hand, then Minho threw another napkin from the holder in your direction.

“I promise that things will get better when you talk to him.” Felix nodded. “Talking always helps.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Thursday afternoon came, and the forecast had called for snow, but none had come. Rather, the atmosphere had turned to be dreary and grey the whole day long, and the temperature dropped so low that some local schools had to cancel classes for the day. Your university had decided to do the same. While you had been thankful and decided to spend the day working on your various projects, you couldn’t bring your hand to the canvas.

All day long you had spent figuring out what it really was that you wanted to say to Changbin, and you still hadn’t figured it out yet. Even you didn’t know what it was entirely that scared you deeply. But, you knew that somewhere you did.

Why her?

You could do better.

Isn’t she...boring?

You hugged your legs to yourself as you waited on your couch. The memories seeped into your brain like some kind of poison diffusing its way.

No, no. You’re wrong. You tried your best to banish them.

You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, and dug your nails into the fleshy part of your knees where you held them.

You don’t own me. You don’t have the fucking power.

Three knocks clicked at your door, and you knew that it was Changbin. Your chest shook with a type of anxiety that felt like prickling thorns. You rose to open the door.

“Fuck. It’s so freezing out there.” Was the first thing that he said. “I wouldn’t mind not having to go back out there if you are?” He slung his coat over one of chairs to your two person dining table. As soon as he was undressed, you were overcome with the desire to be as close as possible as you could get to him. It had been your safe place.

Changbin let out a little surprised noise when you launched your body at him, but he just as quickly held you back firmly.

“Is everything okay?”

For a moment you let his rosemary and cedarwood cast aside all the ideas and words that ate away at you.

“Can we talk?” You mumbled.

“Yeah, of course. Can we sit down? Get a blanket maybe?” You nodded and let him do the work of going back to your room to get back your knit blanket that he knew you liked best. He threw it over his shoulders them beckoned you to join him in his arms. You snuggled right up into his chest where he had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. “Want to talk about it now?”

With glistening eyes you tried your best to look up at him. His cheeks were still bitten pink from the cold.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents? Or about what’s going on right now?”

Changbin sighed and bit at his lower lip in his discontent. “Minho said something didn’t he?”

“You can tell me, you know?”

Changbin shook his head. “It’s not your problem to worry about, so I don’t want you do.”

“But you’re my problem to worry about. Don’t you get that?”

He sighed once more, then rested his head atop of yours. Where he held you around your arms, he rubbed gently.

“And if...being with me helps you...I’ll come around anytime alright? You don’t just have to come here.”

He laughed a little. “My place isn’t as private as yours is.”

You toyed with the fraying fabric of the blanket. “You know that I can be quiet if I need to be. Or if you just want me to sleep over, I can do that too.”

“I don’t want you going out of your way--”

“--I don’t mind.” You nuzzled a little deeper. “So, your parents are giving you a hard time?”

He tsked. “Yeah. It’s just...stupid is all. They care so much about what I do and don’t do when I left so it wouldn’t bother them. They’re trying hand out some kind of threats to me like they have the right to do so....they don’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

Changbin helped you up a bit higher up his body so your head could rest on his shoulder. “Nothing. Keep doing what I’ve always been. No one knows except the people I have closest to me. They’re worrying over nothing.”

You formed a “oh” with your lips.

“But, it’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

Already, you had forgotten what you really had decided to talk to him about. It had slipped from your mind just as quickly as you had let it arise. The two of you grew quiet, and you let yourself become overcome with the feeling and warmth that his body and the blanket gave to you. You wondered if he would’ve gotten mad if you had fallen asleep just then. It didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“As long as we’re talking about things, do you mind if I ask you something?” Changbin asked after planting a small kiss on your forehead.

“What’s that?” You said with a sleepy and cracking voice.

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but I just thought it would be worth it to ask, since we’ve been doing you know, this, for a few weeks now. You already know how I feel about you, I think that I’ve made it pretty damn clear, but, I was thinking that we could make things exclusive between us? Like, it just becomes me and you?”

Drip by drip, the drowsiness that had swept over your eyes dissipated.

“Would you be up for that? I just, it seems a bit odd to me that we haven’t talked about it yet considering...well, I think that it would be easier if we knew what we were so then we could, I don’t know, plan or something like that? It’s kind of a commitment, I know, but I want you to know that I’m willing--”

“Bin...” You pulled yourself up from his chest.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did-did I say something wrong?”

Who’s baby are you?

“You want me to...be yours?”

“Well, not exactly, you know what I’ve said before, but, I would like you to be my girlfriend--”

A sob clogged your throat. Now that he had finally said it, the realizations came flooding over you like the deathly winter chill.

“Angel, are you scared again? I told you that you don’t have to with me, I swear that I don’t ever want to hurt you or anything like what happ--”

“--Like happened what? Back when I was so fucking stupid to get myself locked up in something that I thought would be good for me? Why is it that you want me to be your girlfriend, huh? I-is it because I-I fall over for you? I can’t run away from you? Am-am I just a good fuck for you? What is it?”

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? Y/n, you know that I love you, I fucking love you like crazy and I don’t think any of those things!! I’m not trying to restrain you our use you or anything like that, I don’t know why the hell you would think that!”

“B-because you might not now, but what about later down the line...when I get boring or you figure out that I’m not as exciting like I used to be or--”

“--What?! No! That’s not gonna happen!” Changbin reached out to pull you back into his arms, but you shook him off.

Salty tears filled the corners of your mouth. “The last time that I-I did something like this, I--”

“--Well this isn’t last time, this is this time, okay? It’s different! I swear to God that I’m not that fucking asshole. I get that you’re scared, okay, that’s totally understandable, but I’m asking you to trust me alright? Can you trust me?”

Part of you wanted to trust him. In fact, a much larger part of yourself wanted to trust him so bad, it hurt. But, a smaller part of you, a much smaller part of you still screamed into the abyss that he was the last person in the world that you could trust; and that voice, was much louder.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want to give you everything that I have. All my fucking time, my attention, hell, just minutes ago you said that I was your problem, can’t you be mine? Is that not allowed? I’m just...I DON’T get you!!!” Changbin growled out the tail end of his sentence and only after he had said it he realized it was much louder than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...please. I’m not mad at you.”

Your body had weakened, so when he had reached out for you, you let yourself fall into his arms.

“Angel, can’t you see that what I’m trying to do is the complete opposite of what you think I am? Yeah I mean, it would be nice to call you my girlfriend, but not because I’m trying to control you or anything, but because...fuck, you make me happier, made me feel like I’m less lonely in this fucking crazy-ass world. I want to be that for you and you only.”

Poisonous thoughts. Why were they even more alluring than the antidote that you had right in front of your face?

Your limp body mustered up the strength of push yourself off his chest. Looking into his eyes you felt numb. With all the care that he held for you, you felt as if you didn’t deserve one single ounce of it.

Why her?

You figured that in some parallel earth, you would’ve been able to have said yes. In that parallel earth, nothing bad would’ve ever happened, and you wouldn’t have been crouched in that alley with snow melting into your dress. You would’ve lived a normal life without pain and doubt. Maybe you would’ve met him there too, and you would’ve been able to say yes.

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but can you please consider it...for me? I meant everything that I said, but I...I also can’t wait forever.” You heard his voice grow thick. “I know that if...you can’t do it, or iff you don’t know, then I can’t just make it happen. There’s not a lot else that I can do. But at least I want to try.”

You could do better.

“I-I think that I need to be alone...right now--tonight.” Two more hot tears fell down your cheeks with a sting like a papercut.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, just--there’s things that I need to think about, I don’t..I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“No. I understand.” Changbin sniffled.

Slowly, your two bodies seperated, and the heat from his body faded. You thought to yourself, it wasn’t yours to keep in the first place.

You lead him quietly to the door where you watched him lace up his shoes and throw on his coat. His eyes had become puffy, as much as you figured you had looked as well. His grey eyes looked tired, just like the dreary day that you had spent all day hiding from. Still, he smiled.

“Y/n. I know that you think that you’re hard to love. But you’re not. If you take away anything from this, I hope you know that your past doesn’t define you, and that you can have happiness after it all. I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me. Only if you’ll let me.”

Your clogged nose made a horrible stuffed sound and you nodded. You had listened to his words, but had you heard?

He sighed with finality, then bent down to kiss at the salty taste on your lips.

“Call me, okay?”

You closed the door after him, then collapsed down the door. Your pent up sobs flew out of your chest with loud and ugly sounding sobs. Each one hurt more than the last to get out. You crumbled against the wood door, and didn’t even mind the cool draft from under the crack. Your world became a blur in front of your watery eyes and your hands shook as they took your phone from your pocket.

Words of self loathing filled your ears as you searched up the name, but it was the only one that you could think of in your blind emptiness.

If only things could go back to the way that they were.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The walk to his apartment was cold, freezing even. You had worn the shoes that you had been scolded for, and the coat that provided you with barely any warmth. You knew the way to his apartment well--it was almost muscle memory by now. Streetlights passed you overhead, and finally the snow that was promised started to drift from the heavens and before you.

Your hands cracked with the cold when you pushed the button to his intercom, and he buzzed you in without saying a word. You showed yourself up the staircase with empty sounding footsteps echoing against the walls. Your eyes had welled with tears once you reached his floor, but you blinked them away harshly. It was a futile attempt considering that he would see how red your eyes had become.

His door was cracked with old paint, and the number had been scratched off with age. You knocked one time, no more than that. Somewhere a tiny voice had hoped that he wouldn’t hear the knock at all, and figure that you hadn’t even come up, and that you could quietly slip back away.

But he didn’t. He must’ve been waiting.

He too looked to be a mess: his cheeks and eyes had puffed up and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore minimal clothing that hung loosely on his frame.

“--Jisung--”

Before you could say any more, he had leapt into you, and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that he could’ve rid you of all your breath.

“Baby, thank you so much for coming. Thank you so much. I’m sorry how I acted at the concert. I just missed you so much....I missed you so much.”

114 notes · View notes

ambereyesandwine · 5 years ago

Text

We’ve Got Soul: Chapter 3

WC: 2450

Warnings: Sass, cursing, ya know, the usual

Beta’d By: @teaspacebar

Notes: This chapter is mostly relationship building between Fantasia and the boys, and to show the change in their relationships in the year-ish since the last chapter.

Chapter 3:

October 8, 2037

8:04 A.M.

“Hey,” Fantasia called out around the hair-tie bit between her teeth. “Gavin, get up.” She shoved his shoulder before putting her hair up the rest of the way.

“Nooo,” He groaned.

“Seriously, you have to go to work today.”

“I shouldn’t have to, it’s my birthday.”

“Yesterday was your birthday, today is Thursday. Get up.”

Gavin propped himself up on his elbows so he could face her. “What time is it?”

“Eight. I let you sleep for as long as I could before I came in to get you, but I have to go, and you need to leave for work soon.” She was walking around Gavin’s apartment, finishing putting herself together as she spoke. “My blanket is folded on the couch, and I made you breakfast, it’s in the fridge. Take a shower before you go, you stink.”

“You’re an asshole.” He called through his bedroom door.

She grabbed her keys, “That’s what friends are for, I’ll see you later!” And the door was shut behind her. Fantasia boarded the next bus to get to Carl’s and rang the doorbell right on time.

Markus answered the door, “Good morning Fantasia.”

A smile plastered across her face. “Good morning,” Fantasia said as she walked through the house to the studio. When she entered the room, Carl turned in his chair to face her.

“You’re late.”

“I am not,” She dropped her bag under the desk by the door, “You just get bored when I’m not here.”

“I’m an artist, I’m never bored.”

“I’m an artist and I get bored regularly.”

Carl chuckled lightly, “That’d be why you’re an apprentice with lots of work still to do. Today you’re working on texture. You get one color, and you’re going to tell me a story with just the paint thickness and brush stroke.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Have fun.” Carl left the studio without another word.

For a few moments, Fantasia just stood in front of the canvas with a blank stare. “How the hell am I supposed to do this?” She quirked her head a little. “What if I…” Fantasia collected a palette and the paint she’d need to make her color and got started. It was almost three hours later that Carl re-entered the studio to find her standing in front of a dull blue canvas with no visible concept, other failed attempts scattered on the floor.

As Fantasia continued to add paint to the piece as she spoke, “I’m almost done.”

“There’s nothing there. I told you to make a story, not a mess on a canvas.”

“Just give me a minute.” Fantasia looked over her project one more time before turning to face Carl. “It’s done.”

Carl sighed. “My dear, I sincerely hope you are about to surprise me.”

“Don’t I always?” Fantasia turned on the lamp she had set up to shine over the painting from the upper-right corner of the canvas. The shadows cast by the ridges in the paint formed a city block, crowded with silhouettes.

Carl nodded. “Pleasantly surprised, indeed. It’s an interesting idea to use the light, I may have to use that at some point.”

“Thank you,” Fantasia’s smile grew as she looked between Carl and her painting.

“I figured this would take you a larger portion of the day. You’re more than welcome to stay if you’d like to continue working.” Carl wheeled over to his lift and continued a large piece he had in progress.

Fantasia grabbed her bag and found a place to sit on a table across the studio from Carl’s lift. She sat cross-legged and hunched over her sketchbook as she drew her mentor at work.

Markus entered the room and approached Fantasia. “What are you drawing?”

“Carl,” Fantasia replied lightly and showed Markus the page. “It’s fun to draw him when he’s too busy with other things to stop me.”

“I can still hear you.”

“But you won’t stop me cause you’re already in the lift.” Upon receiving no reply, Fantasia continued to sketch.

“Do you need anything while I’m here?” Markus asked politely.

“Just your company, if you have some time.” Fantasia looked up from her work to smile at him.

Markus smiled back. “Of course.”

Fantasia scooted over and moved her bag to the floor to make room for him. She patted the newly opened space, which Markus gladly filled. When he was seated on the table comfortably, Markus switched between watching Fantasia draw and watching Carl paint, almost as though he was studying.

“What do you think?” Fantasia tilted her sketchbook Markus’s way to show him her semi-finished drawing.

“I think it’s very life-like.”

She hummed, “Mm, an easy answer. I’ll get an opinion out of you one day.”

“Were you looking for another response?” Markus questioned lightly.

A small huff left Fantasia’s chest. “No, Markus. It’s okay.” She smiled at him. “I think I’m gonna get some lunch. Carl?” She called across the studio, “I’m gonna make lunch, do you want anything?”

Carl continued to paint as he replied, “No, I’m fine, help yourself.”

“Awesome,” Fantasia hopped off the table and held her hand out toward Markus. “Do you want to come?”

“If you’d like.” Markus took Fantasia’s hand and neatly slid off the table before following her into the kitchen.

When Fantasia got to the kitchen, she immediately turned to Markus and asked, “What do you think Carl would like to eat?”

“He said he didn’t want anything.”

“Yes,” she huffed, “But he always says he doesn’t want anything and then as soon as I bring food into the studio, he asks you to make him something. I’m just trying to take out the middle step.”

“He does seem to have a pattern.” Markus replied. “What about a salad?”

“That sounds great, Carl could use some vegetables in his life.” Fantasia went to the fridge and collected lettuce, peppers, a cucumber, and some other vegetables. “Do you have any chicken breast?”

“Yes, second shelf from the top.”

“Awesome,” Fantasia grabbed the package and handed it to Markus. “Will you cook a couple up while I cut veggies?”

“Of course.”

The two had lunch put together in 20 minutes, and Fantasia put it out on the table while Markus went to collect Carl.

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” He said, rolling up to the table. “But that does smell pretty good.”

Fantasia smiled. “I figured you’d say that, that’s why we made enough for two to begin with. Here.” She placed his salad in front of him on the table.

“Aww,” Carl said with disdain. “I smelled chicken, I thought it was all chicken. This is not real person food, it’s for herbivores.”

“Good thing you’re an omnivore and can eat both.” Fantasia picked up her utensils and stared at Carl from across the table. “Eat.”

October 13, 2037

12:27 P.M.

As Fantasia walked into the station, she was greeted by the call of her name.

“Tasia!” Gavin jogged over to her and snatched the paper bag from her hands and kissed her on the cheek before plopping down at his desk. “Finally, I’m starving.”

She sat down in her usual chair. “You’re super affectionate today, are you dying?” Fantasia said it between bites of fries.

“Fuck you, I’m in a good mood.”

She nodded, “Ah, there you are. What’s up?”

“I made a big arrest today, for your information,” He laced the second half of his statement with attitude. “We’ve been looking for this guy for months,” Gavin continued to talk around mouthfuls of food, “And I got him today, cause I’m the fucking best.”

“Uh huh.” Fantasia gestured with sarcastic curiosity, “So were you the only police officer at the scene, or did you have other people there?”

“There were others.”

“Uh huh, and did you do all the work by yourself while they just stood around, or were they all involved?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “The second one…”

“Uh huh, so did Gavin Reed get him or did the DPD get him. Together.”

The pleasant expression on Gavin’s face melted. “You’re a soul-sucking terrorist. You know that?”

“Chris, I fixed him!” Fantasia called out across the station.

“Thank you!” Came back from the general direction of the break room.

Gavin’s eyes went wide, “What was that?”

Fantasia replied nonchalantly, “Chris texted me while I was on my way over. He said you were being scary. I fixed it.”

“I hate you.”

“I am the only person you don’t genuinely despise on some level or another, and I brought you food, so you have to be nice to me.”

He grumbled to himself and silently ate his food with his normal, grumpy disposition until Fantasia got out her sketchbook.

“What are you drawing.”

“You’re talking with your mouth full, and it’s disgusting.”

“Sorry m’lady.” Gavin dramatically attempted to swallow the entire mouthful of food and almost choked before trying to pretend nothing happened and asked again, “What’re you drawing.”

She looked at him, perplexed. “Do you regret that? Do you regret what you just did, or do you stand by that?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained as he coughed and reached for his drink.

Fantasia nodded slowly with an affirmative hum before answering Gavin’s question. “I’m drawing you with a smile on your face. It’s so rare, I figured I’d capture it forever. Ya know, ‘make a picture, it’ll last longer’ and all that.”

“That is not how the saying goes.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“Ouch, the Clever Comeback Queen has struck again, let’s hear it folks.”

Fantasia rolled her eyes. “What else do you have going on today?”

“Paperwork.”

“Ah yes, saving the world and filling out paperwork. Real heroes don’t wear capes, they wear dirty leather jackets and listen to shitty music.”

“Hey,” Gavin pointed accusingly at her, “You stay off my music. Carry on My Wayward Son is a classic.”

She scoffed, “Yeah maybe, but its but its older than Hank and you act like it’s the last good song ever released.”

“Cause it is.”

“No. Look me in the eyes,” She pointed at her own face with two fingers. “I listen to you blast all kinds of terrible music from when you were in middle school and high school that is way different than Kansas, and I am willing to put money down that the only reason you’ve ever even heard of that song is cause of that show you used to watch cause you thought it would make you cool.”

Gavin’s face crunched, trying to formulate a response, but he caved, “I got nothin.”

“Yeah.”

“You free this weekend, or do you have super special painting practice?”

“I’m free, I think,” Fantasia stated as she started cleaning up their lunch. “Carl has some fancy charity auction thingy that I’m not allowed to go to.” She shrugged.

“Why not?”

“Oh, ya know, big names only, they have a reputation to keep up.”

“So, you’re not even allowed to go?”

“Nope.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Agreed. You wanna go out instead?”

“Depends,” Gavin considered.

“On?”

“Are you gonna be pissy the whole time about how you didn’t get to go to the auction thing?”

“What? No. It’s literally a bunch of old dudes in a room talking about ‘strokes’ all night and pretending they aren’t talking about their dicks. I am totally fine not being the only female in that room.”

“Awesome, then I’ll see you later? I gotta get back to work.” Gavin gestured widely to his mostly empty desk.

“Yeah, you have fun with all that. I’ll shoot you a text when I pick a place.”

“It better not be some shitty line-dancing bar again.” He called out as Fantasia started to walk away.

“If you actually cared you wouldn’t make me choose every time.” She shot finger guns at him before she turned to leave.

November 2, 2037

6:09 P.M.

“So, dad, what’s for dinner?” Leo walked into the dining room where Fantasia and Markus were serving dinner.

Fantasia’s smile dropped as soon as she saw Leo’s face.

“Oh, hey Tay, wasn’t expecting to see you here. Are you on the menu tonight?”

The resulting scowl and glare that Fantasia produced could have pierced most people’s skin, but Leo didn’t back down. “Nobody calls me Tay,” She seethed.

“Exactly! So, I’m unique!” He smiled a shit-eating grin.

“So, you can call me Fantasia. Nothing else.”

“Oh ouch,” He turned to Markus, “That bitch is almost as cold as your insides tonight, huh?”

“Leo,” Carl interrupted, “That’s enough. What do you want?”

“Well food for starters, if you’re offering.”

Carl made no gesture to offer the things his son demanded. “Why did you come here, Leo?”

“What, I can’t just come over to hang out with my pops?”

“You never have before,” Fantasia spat.

Leo turned on her, “I’m sorry, who were you again? This is my dad, not yours, little orphan girl.”

“I said enough,” Carl restated sternly. “No more games, Leo. Why are you here?”

“I need money.”

Carl looked confused, “I thought you said you got a job.”

“Yeah, well it fell through and now I need money for rent.”

“What do you mean it ‘fell through?’”

“They found out about the ice, does it matter?” Leo’s agitation covered his face.

A sigh left Carl’s chest, “How much do you need?”

“A thousand dollars.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks, dad, I knew I could count on you.” Leo made a pointed glance toward Fantasia before he spoke again. “I’m glad the help is keeping you good company while I’m away.”

“I’m not-” Fantasia started but dropped it when she saw Carl’s face. He was already upset, and she didn’t want to make it worse for him.

“Was that all you needed?” Carl asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Leo started back out toward the door. “I can’t stick around. I got places to be.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see you around pops,” Were Leo’s last words before the door closed behind him.

Fantasia immediately turned to Carl and asked, “Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath before replying, “I’m fine. What did you two make for dinner?” The smile on his face was forced.

Markus chimed in, “Alfredo that Fantasia insisted we ‘wing.’”

“I just didn’t want it to be something from a cookbook you have memorized! I wanted it to be fun!”

Markus smiled. “It was fun.”

“Then the mission was accomplished, can I eat now?” Carl reached for his plate.

“Yeah, sorry.” Fantasia set the table the rest of the way and sat down across from Carl to dig into her food.

The two ate in relative quiet with only the sounds of the dishes being washed as background noise.

#Markus x oc #dbh #Detroit Become Human #Markus #Gavin Reed #Dbh Markus #Dbh Gavin #Detroid Become Human #RK200 #Gavin reed x oc #We've Got Soul

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fistsoflightning · 5 years ago

Photo

and there’s no place like home for the holidays

merry chrimma, @to-the-voiceless! i’m your secret santa this year for @aetherstitch‘s exchange, and i heard you wanted some mushy starlight fic? :3

(i am... late. sorry. aymeric refused to finish in time and that’s when i realized my arrogance in believing i could pull this off to a degree i liked b4 christmas evening...)

words: 3238

“Ser,” Lucia says among the thick silence of the Borel manor kitchen. “Perhaps this is a bit… excessive?”

Aymeric, seated in front of a good amount of books detailing Doman culture for gifts and holidays, rests his head in his weary hands and sighs. Lucia nudges his cup of tea towards him before leaning back, continuing her light reading as he slowly accepts the unsweetened tea. She may be right, but then how long would it take to come up with a new idea for a present?

“Your time may be better spent perusing the Jeweled Crozier, Ser. Finding something Doman in nature at this time of year may be harder than you think without one of the Warriors to retrieve it for you.” Lucia says as she flips another page in her book. Something about the mishaps of two Gridanian children as they search for the meaning of Starlight or whatnot. According to Lucia, Hilda had recommended the tale after it made its rounds through the Temple Knights.

“‘Tis true, but I feel something nostalgic would be more welcome than a trinket so easily found.” Aymeric squints at some detailed drawing in the book directly beneath his face, noting the plum trees and shallow lakes. What a breathtaking sight. “Perhaps I could call upon Madame Tataru’s connections…”

Lucia, for all her patience, scoffs at his latest idea, sliding a bookmark in-between pages and setting her book on the counter. Aymeric looks up in the corners of his eyes to see her endearingly irritated, as Lumelle once had called it.

“I had also thought Lady Hanami would appreciate most anything you’d choose just for her. A gift need not be perfect to give someone joy, and I fail to think a gift less than a reminder of home would displease her.” Lucia says as Aymeric lifts his head from his hands, eyes brightening up at the small amount of hope Lucia has given him; really, he shouldn’t have been so pessimistic in the first place.

“I… suppose. Mayhaps I overthought this time.” Aymeric sheepishly looks around at the number of books that he’s taken from the Scions’ library to further his own research. Hopefully a delivery moogle will be willing to take these back to Tataru.

“As you do. There is no shame in wanting to give someone you love the best, but.” Lucia taps the corners of her eyes while looking straight at Aymeric. “That is also what brings stress during Starlight for most.”

As the clock in Aymeric’s kitchen strikes four in the afternoon, Lucia and he laugh at the idea of “beautiful” Aymeric gaining wrinkles from stress despite all the paperwork awaiting him in the Congregation office, and then immediately shoot to their feet, realizing it is four and they are expected back at the Congregation for another meeting in no later than five minutes.

Aymeric has time to decide on a present to give. He will be fine.

It is a good two weeks or so of dedicated paperwork filing and controlling the eager lords in debate until Aymeric has the chance to continue looking for the perfect gift to give Hanami. He had hoped to find more time between his duties as Speaker and Lord Commander with Handeloup and Lucia’s wonderful assistance, but the newer lords of the minor Houses are much too determined for shortened gatherings, or lengthened vacations. The fact that the House of Lords was even on winter break now was owned to House Fortemps and Haillenarte finally putting down their foot and stopping the younger lords from continuing to throw rhetoric like bricks at Aymeric.

“Holiday shopping at the last moment, my lord? I thought you more prepared.” Hilda sneaks around the yellow canvas of the floral stand as Aymeric tiredly looks at a few colorful gladiolus. Would it be to Hanami’s tastes if he were to get flowers? Or would that be in poor taste of her name?

“Our House of Lords has finally taken winter break, and none too soon. I haven’t the time between the moments until now to truly look around.” Aymeric says without looking to meet ruby red eyes, Hilda soon joining him at admiring the floral displays of some poor merchant who’d have the misfortune to walk away at the moment they come around. Shame; Aymeric very much would have preferred the help of a professional.

After a few more moments of dizzying himself with cotton candy pinks and blizzard ice blues, Hilda slowly takes his arm and tugs him away from the flowers and towards rich and warm smells. For a small machinist lady, she is rather strong…

“Wouldn’t hurt to have a bite, eh? Might help you think, with that cookbook of a brain you’ve got!” Hilda points out, clearly remembering when he made rounds in the Brume with holiday cookies from last week. “Heard Lord Francel fancies the new pineapple fritters Miss Norlaise has got, if you’re interested.”

The smell of sweet pineapples is surely tempting as they approach Madame Norlaise’s stall, a small crowd of children gathering round for warm cookies or small cakes to bring home and devour. Aymeric steps behind a small group of three excited children as they receive their box of candied fruits, waiting patiently as they cry a jumbled ‘thank you!’ to Madame Norlaise just before leaving. Hilda laughs as she watches them scrabble a little, all wanting part of the sweets.

“Good day, Ser! Something warm catch your fancy?” Norlaise lifts up a jar of candied berries as he takes a second glance at her small display. “Mayhaps a gift box for a beloved?”

Aymeric chuckles as he takes a sack of gil from his pocket. “Something warm, aye. A serving of pineapple fritters, if you would.”

He places down enough money for two when he finally counts out the gil, and Norlaise raises an eyebrow before Aymeric tilts his head slightly to where Hilda stands, still watching as some of the children come back around in caroling outfits. She nods as she turns to get to work, leaving Aymeric to enjoy the children singing and Hilda clapping as they finish. Perhaps he could take Hanami to listen to the Ishgardian choir in the Vault; ah, but her horn…

Madame Norlaise sets down two small boxes of fritters in front of him, smelling heavenly and adorned with ribbons to look like twinkleboxes, ready to be unwrapped. “Your order, Ser. Do have a wonderful day, and happy Starlight!”

Aymeric nods, taking his purchase over to Hilda and placing one of the two boxes into her hands. Her eyes grow wide, lighting up quite like fireflies as she eagerly unwraps the steaming fritters.

With that, Aymeric has the pleasure of Hilda’s continued company as he goes to the jeweler’s stall (all things Hanami could easily outdo with her own goldsmithing skills), then to the armorer’s (“Who buys their partner armor for Starlight, ser?”), and then, after all else fails, back to the baker’s stall as Hilda once again reminds him that he could bake something.

“Her disdain for sweets prevents me from doing much else than bread,” Aymeric rambles as he racks his brain for something that might well work as a present. Bread just seems… half-hearted to him, with how many times he’s made it with her watching patiently behind. “A challenge of my skills may very well be in order.”

“S’not that hard to make a sweet treat sour, my lord.” Hilda says with part of a fritter still in her mouth, pointing at the display that Norlaise has across from them. Specifically, she points at a lemon and rolanberry pie, steaming from its stand and decorated with bright white whipped cream. “Lucia said the pie drew a shocking similarity to lemonade; doesn’t seem all that hard either. If you fancy a challenge after the verbal whipping some of the other highborns gave you, I’d say you’ve come to like punishing yourself.”

Aymeric sighs, shaking his head as Hilda laughs at his misery; she’d seen the younger of the lords chase him through Foundation to the Pillars in an attempt to finish their points despite two of the older lords telling them off already. He’d listened to them, certainly, and then forgotten them almost completely after getting home to a good book and Mandragora.

As he returns to flipping through mental baking ideas, Hilda gives him a small wave and wanders off, clearly intent to return to her city guard duties with her remaining fritters. He stays against the wall opposite of Madame Norlaise’s stand with his own fritters much like a gargoyle for a good bell as he thinks, rethinks, and ruffles his hair. The smells are all melting together in his head, and imagining something not so sugary sweet as the snow mounds some of the children walk past with is starting to become difficult, so Aymeric, tired and still presentless, walks home in thick, fluffy snow.

He has one last day to decide on what to give her. He will be fine.

The very next morning Aymeric realizes he does not, in fact, have a full day to figure it out.

He goes on a morning trip to the Jeweled Crozier to grab a bite—his steward is taking the day off for family—and to perhaps peruse the markets in needless worry for something that might be a better present to give, and as with the last few days, he leaves the Crozier with naught but groceries and a basket of oranges—he was so caught up in finding a gift before the day was done that he bought citrus instead of cranberries. No matter; Hanami had seemed to like the last set of oranges he’d left out in the kitchen, so perhaps she’d scoff these down with the same fervor.

And then Aymeric runs into the captor of his thoughts in the aetheryte plaza when running a small errand to the Temple Knights stationed at Saint Reinette Forum, accompanied by two who appeared to be—from where he stood about thirty yalms away—Lunya and Zaya.

The gala wasn’t until late that evening, and Aymeric was under the impression that the three of them would not be arriving until closer to four in the afternoon! Had he heard Hanami wrong all those weeks ago?

Lunya points Aymeric out to the other two Warriors as he remains in a standstill, debating whether or not to run in order to buy himself more time to think, but Hanami runs over much too quickly with her hands keeping a dress garment cover from flying off into the light snow. From under the plastic cover, Aymeric swears he’d caught a glimpse of silken pink fabric, but with how Hanami’s sworn off the color pink from here on out, he might simply have mistaken a bit of red for pink.

“You are out early.” Hanami says, coldfire eyes blazing bright and pinched at the corners; perhaps she was more tired than she’d prefer to show? “Do you still have work to do? Is that kid from House Dzmael stretching your meetings again?”

“Nay, we’ve already entered our winter break.” Aymeric says, waving politely at Zaya and Lunya as they make to leave through teleporting behind Hanami. “Albeit later than usual. Would you like to accompany me home, or do you have other plans for right now?”

Hanami shakes her head, falling in step with him as he walks casually on the path back home. At his request, she starts to pour out a few more of her tales from the First, filling in the empty air as light snow sticks to his hair and gloves. Their footsteps would easily trail a while back, but he hopes that by tonight the squall will finally settle in and drape Ishgard in a smooth white in time for the gala. The sparkling snow would make for a lovely sight to look out upon.

As they approach Aymeric’s doorway, Hanami goes to hang her dress (?) off of his pauldrons—he doesn’t mind much, with how often he hangs things there himself—and opens up the door for him, clearly taking note of the ridiculous number of bags he’s brought home. Hanami doesn’t seem to notice the large basket of oranges he carries through, not attempting to grab for one of the sweet fruits as he walks into the kitchen to set everything down.

“My sunrise,” Aymeric calls out, noticing she’s been standing in the doorway the whole time he’s been putting away some of the foodstuffs before he forgets. “Have you come in? The wind is carrying to the kitchen.”

A small grumble follows the door slamming shut, then clanking footsteps as Hanami’s pauldrons tap heavily on the wooden floor of the house. She comes to the kitchen, where Aymeric has set down a small plate of snacks meant for later, and picks up a few crackers before eagerly shoving them into her mouth.

“S’rry. It is cold here now.” Hanami crunches slowly through the crackers as Aymeric turns, giving her a soft smile. He does not mind much, thanks to growing up here; he was a bit more worried that Hanami had simply collapsed from the headache she seems to have.

“‘Tis alright, my light. Would you like to relocate your snacking to the fireplace?” He gestures to the living room farther in, where the fire has been crackling since he woke this morning. Hanami quickly takes the small platter and moves to the warmer lands of his couch as he finishes up with his groceries. The oranges remain on the table, but that is quickly reconsidered when Aymeric notices that he bought sour oranges and not the small, sweet ones that Hanami eats up like candy. What can he do with these now? It’s not as if he planned to bake anything with this many oranges…

He sets the oranges by the other baking ingredients, resolving to solve that dilemma later.

When Aymeric enters his living room, he is greeted by the sight of Hanami,haphazardly spread out on his couch under blankets and pillows. Adorably so, in his opinion, but likely to soak in all the precious warmth she’d lost out in the Ishgardian winter; snow is not kind to those with lizard-like features, as the Scions had remarked about their scaled friends. With her sleeping like a log, however, he has no place to sit down with her, so he simply returns to the kitchen with the plate of crumbs Hanami has left in her wake.

“Now, what to do with you…” Aymeric goes back to face the basket of oranges once again, sighing as he realizes it has barely been five minutes since he left them here. He feels much too restless for someone supposed to be on break; his hands crave something to fiddle with, so he picks up one of the oranges, tossing it around in his hands.

And he still has the dilemma of Hanami’s gift and retrieving it before the gala; he can’t just very well get up and leave, either, with Hanami sleeping so peacefully here. Leaving her seems like a rather rude thing to do, so he’s left with what’s in the manor.

Not books; that is a cruel and unusual punishment, to gift someone Ishgardian print books when they can barely read the Ishgardian alphabet out loud. In fact, much of what he has would seem… odd. Hilda’s remarks at his odd shopping habits from yesterday come back to haunt him, except this time about his belongings; Why books that are old enough to be her grandparents? Really now, a pair of slippers? Have you truly lost it?

Perhaps Hilda was not so rude, but the mere thought is enough to give him a laugh as he scans over his baking books, crammed into a shelf on the corner of his kitchen.

Then Aymeric catches the remnants of his box of fritters from the other day, and he has an idea of what to do in the bells between Hanami’s eventual awakening and his abundance of energy. The crust would take a bit of work, and the toppings would have to be sweetened, in all honesty, but he has time. It is almost ten in the morning; the pie should be done by half past three if he starts now.

Aymeric finds himself going much faster than he had intended, and a good bit messier than he’d prefer; the oranges take a while to open, and his hands slip with the knife on the butter, but he gets through it. Certainly a challenge, though not in the way he’d imagined. For him to have more trouble keeping his nerve while making a treat for a dear one than in the middle of four different High Houses all trying to get him to approve of their idea; the lords would have made fun of him!

At some point that Aymeric doesn’t realize, Hanami wakes up and shuffles her sleepy self over to the chair set by the countertop. In his flitting about the kitchen in a rush to get the pie in the oven, he barely notices her, not even when he has to look for his whisk and she hands it right to him. A mumbled ‘thanks’ slips from his mouth, but otherwise he makes no other notice of her.

That is, until he finally gets the pie in the oven. The moment the oven starts to heat up and bake the sweet, Aymeric finds the eyes staring at him more noticeable than before.

“Forgive me, my sunrise.” Aymeric sighs out, brushing off some flour before leaning on the counter to look Hanami in the eyes. “I hardly noticed you there. Have you been watching for a long time now?”

“Not too long. Your work was much more entertaining than sleep was, though.” Hanami smiles sleepily as the smell of oranges starts to bake into the air. “Why the pie? Was there not enough sweets for the gala already?”

Aymeric stiffens a bit, despite the complaints of his already tired back. “That was… a gift.”

“Oh? A present?”

“Yes; my schedule was… packed this year, and I haven’t the time anymore to buy something, so a handmade gift will have to do.”

“Is it for Lucia? Oh, or perhaps for House Fortemps?”

Aymeric winces at the shortsightedness of his thoughts. He’d forgotten theirs, as well; a batch of cookies in the next few days ought to do it, though. They were not the cranky elders of the less-than-friendly houses, and he knew both parties personally; he can apologize without seeming rude.

“‘Tis a gift… for you, my sunrise.” Aymeric sheepishly admits, the orange smell wafting around as he speaks. “I had a lack of ideas, and when you’d come home early, I panicked quite a bit. The oranges were a saving grace, I must admit; perhaps I would have made more bread without them.”

Hanami laughs, not daring to leave him in awkward yet surprised silence. “You were stuck in your head, hm? Perhaps this will help you learn. The pie, knowing you, will be perfect. Thank you.”

“I suppose, yes. Happy Starlight, my sunrise.”

And when the pie finished baking, the smell of oranges and rolanberries was not sweeter than the moments shared waiting at the counter for the telltale ‘ding’ of the oven.

#ffxiv #hanami #aymeric de borel #sour pie for hanami! sour pie for hanami??? my baking expertise does not go as far as sour pies so i tried ;-;#im not quite sure how far her distaste for sweets expands so i tried one of the more sour things i'm interested in making #i could have titled this as 'aymeric and the great present panic'#but i was listening to christmas music for brainstorming so lyric title!#i read through quite literally all of cyan's ffxivwrite and other fic pieces and i gotta say ive been holding back on myself #all of it was amazing #and i wish i read it sooner? i just dont have time ;-;#surprisingly the screenshot i used is where the lore book says borel manor is since i forgot #i do hope you like this cyan!!!! aymeric is astoundingly difficult pbkqboieo #*shakes aymeric by his torso since im like 4'11"* stop being such a fool and decide #my writing #best of elie

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