#on the right. also pretend her thumb is facing the right way be nice to me be sooo very nice to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

butididntpourthewhiskeys · 1 year ago

Text

CITYBOUND III

TW: sexual references 🚨

With her face in the sun, Taylor closes her eyes, feels the warm sensation hit her skin. A siren goes off, only a few feet away. The usual car honking that always reminds her exactly where she lives, also doesn’t stop. But it won’t end this peaceful moment. The first rays of sunshine in New York City this year. The first time she’s on the rooftop this year. Eleanor’s little voice from afar, playing by herself. In her winter puff jacket and with her sunglasses on her nose, she opens her eyes again now, looking at the blonde toddler sitting on the wooden patio floor only a few feet away from her. She’s playing with her dolls on top of the stairs leading to the covered pool. She seems to be in her own world, doesn’t even notice Taylor sitting on the sofa next to her, with a wool blanket on top of her. The fact that she so desperately soaks in these first sunrays of the year makes it more than obvious that she and Eleanor need to escape to LA for a few days. She can’t take winter no more. Time for spring to come.

“Honey, remember, no playing by the pool top.” Taylor says, using her hand to shield her sunglasses, making sure she can see clearly what the toddler in her green puffer jacket is doing. Eleanor just nods, two big tails on the little curly head. She’s playing with the two mini dolls that her mother got her a few weeks ago and she still seems to be obsessed with these little princesses. Taylor smiles. She sinks her head, fixes the big blanket over her legs and checks her phone. Just as she was about to reply to the dozens of unanswered messages in her inbox, she can hear the door from the end of the rooftop open. Within two seconds, Taylor sees two huge feet tucked into these ugly big Nike slippers. In his sweatpants he closes the door slowly, smiling through the sun right at her. He’s done with work. She’s glad. Two hours were two hours too long. Too long of him working, and her pretending as if she’s glad to have some time by herself.

“Wow, this is nice.” he says as he slowly makes his way towards her. With an approving smile, Travis takes a look around the luxurious rooftop. Hard to believe that this peaceful outdoor space is right in the heart of Manhattan.

“Yeah.” she just says, her eyes still focused on the tall man, slowly making his way towards her. He lets himself fall down right next to her on the outdoor couch. She smiles at him through her sunglasses.

“How was it?”

“Good.” he smiles at her, his hand already on her thigh again, right above the blanket that’s been keeping her warm out here. “Jason says hi.”

She smiles, nods. She wonders what his brother thinks about all this. She knows that Travis is very independant from anyone’s opinions. It’s one of the things she admires about him. She knows he won’t get influenced by anyone else’s opinion about what they’re doing, who she is or whether this really is a good idea. But she still wonders what his family thinks. The fact that he’s just spending the week here, at her apartment. With her and her child. A weird thought that brings up some anxiety the more she thinks about it.

“Thanks.” she says, and he can feel that she’s insecure of how to react suddenly.

“I didn’t.. I didn’t tell him much. He knows I’ve been seeing you, but nothing more.” he says, has clearly just read her mind again. She nods. It’s okay. This answer is something she can live with.

“I know.” she says quietly, moves her cold hand on top of his. Her eyes looking for Eleanor once more. Travis just looks at the blonde woman next to him, smiles. He moves his thumb a little up and down, gently caressing her small and soft hand that’s on his.

“How are you feeling?” he asks then, and Taylor looks back at him. She sighs, leans back on the comfortable sofa that the two are sitting on, just facing the sun. He still can’t believe how nice and quiet it is here, in the middle of a rooftop in this big city jungle.

“Crappy, to be honest. But it’s okay. I’m used to it. Anytime she gets something, I get it two days later. Just… mom life.” she says, almost laughing at the end of her sentence. He nods. “I feel bad though because I told you a million times that you’re getting it next. And..”

“And I told you a million times that I don’t care.” he interrupts her gently, not raising his voice. Instead, his hand just keeps on caressing hers and it does something to her that she can’t quite explain. She feels safe. She feels seen.

“You’re stubborn, has anyone ever told you that before?”

He laughs at her statement, throwing his head back like a little kid for a second. She can’t help but smile at him, too. She loves it when he laughs like this. She loves how easy everything is with him. There’s no darkness when they’re together. The black dog that always follows her around just disappears. This familiar blue feeling of anxiety on her chest dissolves slowly. He’s pure sunshine, and she doesn’t know he is aware.

“Touché.” he just says. She smiles. She’s got no arguments left.

“Mommy, Travy. Look.”

The two are suddenly pulled out of their thoughts. With her little pink converse shoes, Eleanor comes running towards the two of them. Travis can’t help but laugh at her bouncy pigtails. With her finger up in the air she stops right in front of him, holding the little ladybug right into his face.

“Honey, don’t.. don’t push it in Travis’s eye, please. Careful.” Taylor tries to stop her toddler, but it only makes the man next to her laugh. With his big hands, he gently holds on to the little hand, looks at it in awe, just like Eleanor did before.

“Wow, where did you find this little beauty?” he asks Eleanor. Her eyes are lid up. Taylor loves it. She loves seeing the world through Eleanor’s eyes. She loves that for this little girl, life is still as magical as it can get.

“It.. it was just flying on my hand. Just like that.” she says, giggles in excitement that this little animal chose her for a visit on this sunny afternoon.

“Want me to show you a trick?” Travis asks, and Eleanor nods. Taylor watches the interaction and smiles. With his huge fingers, he shows the little girl how to get the ladybug to crawl from her one hand to the other. Eleanor giggles, and Travis smiles at her when she does it herself for the first time.

“Now, you have to make a wish. Close your eyes.”

With a smile on the little face, she closes her eyes. Her small hands still gently in Travis’s. Taylor’s heart feels like bursting for a second.

“You got one?”

“Mhmhm.”

“Now blow it away. One, two…”

Eleanor blows the ladybug away, jumps up and down for a minute out of excitement. Travis laughs at the little girl’s excitement, still holding both her hands in his.

“Great job, E. High five.”

Eleanor claps her small hand against Travis’s. The smile on the little face is so evident to Taylor. Eleanor feels the sunshine, too.

Not just the one coming from the New York skies today.

She runs away, back to playing with her dolls at the end of the patio. Travis still chuckles, looking after her. His hand wandering to hers again.

“She’s so adorable.” he laughs, then looks at Taylor. She smiles at him, and he knows exactly what her face is telling him right now.

“I know, she is. Thanks for.. for being so sweet with her.”

Travis doesn’t say anything for a moment. He appreciates her words. Truth is, he appreciates every moment of the past 48 hours. Being here, in her home, with Taylor and her daughter. Being able to just be together. Watching her take care of her child. Taking care of her. Lots of hugs to give and witness. Lots of kisses in this house. Lots of laughs. He hasn’t felt this happy and secure in a while and he hopes that this bubble won’t burst anytime soon. He knows it’s outrageous for him to have cancelled a majority of his off season plans for this week, just to spend time here. It’s unlike him to give up work (and play) commitments just to be with a woman. But this time, it’s different. It feels more like a deep need to be here with her now. Not like a choice. He knows, he needs to find the right words soon. But for now, it’s enough to turn off his mind for a bit. Enjoy a few more hours of heaven with Taylor.

“Thanks for introducing me to her.” he replies, his face moving closer to hers. He gently kisses her cheek, his beard scratching her slightly. She looks back at him, nods then. Her forehead leans gently against his chin, her small hand caresses his beard for a moment. He steals her forehead a tiny kiss.

“Means a lot, Tay.” he adds. She nods. He knows it still makes her feel incredibly vulnerable to have let him enter her and Eleanor’s life. And he can only fathom why. It must have been a tough fight for her to take back her own life after separating from Eleanor’s dad. And he knows she won’t let anyone hurt her daughter ever again. But he just wishes she’d know that he will never hurt either of the two.

She doesn’t reply to him, instead lets her head gently fall onto his shoulder. His arm wanders around her and he loves holding her like this. The sun facing them. It’s peaceful here. It’s peaceful between them. He loves to feel this shift since the other night. Since the night she opened up, and allowed him to get close.

Closer than ever before.

___

With the hood of his jacket pulled deep into his face, he enters her building. It’s gotten dark outside now, and the sunny afternoon has turned into an icy, freezing night. Brandon opens the big doors for him, then enters the code to operate the elevator for him, and a few seconds later he steps inside. The doors close, and he can finally pull down the hood covering him. He can breathe again. None of the paparazzi outside have noticed him.

“Quiet evening, man?” he asks the security guard, who politely smiles back.

“Yeah, all good. Did some shopping?”

Travis smiles and nods, the wine he got for himself and Taylor securely wrapped in a brown bag in his hands.

“Yup. Got her some snacks. Keeping both of’em happy.” he jokes.

Brandon smiles. The interaction ends once the elevator door opens again. Travis steps outside, uses the key she gave him to enter the penthouse. Brandon says his goodbye, wishing him a nice evening and Travis closes her door. In an instant, her smell creeps back into his nose, into his lungs, into his… heart. It’s the same smell as her hair, when he kisses her head gently. The same smell as all her clothes, and the bed he slept in for a few nights now. He feels this indescribable feeling of happiness again, just by smelling her. He knows he’s far beyond the stage of falling for her. Her home feels like home to him, and every day - it just keeps getting worse.

Travis takes off his jacket, gently throws it over the chair in the living room. He steps into the generous, open kitchen, and carefully places the bags of food and wine on the countertop. He knows Taylor struggled to get Eleanor to sleep tonight. So the last thing he wants to do is wake up the small girl. He takes the bottles of wine from the brown bag, finally finds free space in the wine cabinet on the other side of the kitchen.

“Hi.” he hears a familiar voice coming from the stairs then. He turns to her, closes the wine cabinet. She smiles, the same make up free face as earlier, before he left to go to the grocery store on Greenwich Street that she loves so much. She’s in her comfy clothes from before, her bangs a bit messed up from Eleanor’s pillow.

“Is she out?” he asks, and Taylor nods, makes her way up to him. He immediately opens his arms, pulls her in for a tight hug. Her face pressed into his shoulder, nothing but her bangs looking out. She breathes him in.

“Yeah finally.” she sighs, “Why do you smell so good.”

Travis chuckles, moving his head in her tight hug to kiss her soft cheek again.

“You smell so much better.”

She lets go of him, both her hands wandering to his face. She smiles, then comes closer to kiss him gently.

“I got you some snacks. And wine. And..”

“Thanks so much. I promise, I will make a batch of cookies later tonight. I haven’t forgotten it. And I really want you to try these. Because, quite frankly, it’s a crime to stay at my house for more than 24 hours without trying my chai..”

“Hey, I have a better idea.” he says then. She stops for a second, has already started reaching for flour, sugar and the chai tea in her cupboard right in front of her. She can feel his big hands wrap around her from behind, and it makes her smile.

“Yeah, and what is that?” she asks, his beard pressed into her neck, gently kissing her skin.

“Come here.” he mumbles. One second passes and she feels his strong arms on her hips, lifting her up and placing her on the countertop behind her. She can’t help giggle a bit, loves that she’s towering him now. Her hands securely on his shoulders. He’s so strong and it never leaves her unimpressed. His nose touches hers for a second, and the smile on his face warms her heart in an instant.

“Mister, if this is what I think it is, can I remind you…”

“It’s not.” he assures her, kisses her again, can’t help but let out a laugh. She closes her eyes, both her arms wrapped around his neck. She feels herself letting go, a low sigh escaping her mouth. He pulls back after a few seconds, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I wanna spoil you tonight.” he says then, and she smiles, biting her lower lip for a second. He’s so handsome in this moment, and his eyes could move a damn mountain. She can’t unsee these pictures of him as a little boy. He truly, still, is the goofy kid he told her he once was. And god, does she have love for this kid. Does she have love for this man in front of her, his huge hands being so gentle and kind.

“You spoil me every night.” she whispers against his lips, making him laugh a bit.

“I don’t mean that kind of spoiling you.” he says, and she stops for a second.

“Wait, you’re not talking about… sexy time?”

“Sexy time?” he asks her with a laugh, can’t believe this is the way she describes their mindblowing, life-changing sex.

“I mean.. yeah it can be. But, I want to give you a massage. A proper one.”

She can’t believe his words, almost feels insecure for a moment. It’s been a long time since someone she shared a bed with has made this kind of effort for her. She still remembers, early on with Joe, he would do small little things for her. But it was never like this. It was always accidental. Always unplanned, but sweet. But this, right here, with Travis, is different. She can’t believe he’s thought about this. Can’t believe he wants to spend the evening giving her a massage, has actively thought about what she would need right now. It’s a new level of attentiveness she’s foreign to when it comes to relationships.

“Would you.. would you like that?” he asks then, has noticed her getting lost in her own thoughts. Within a second, she’s pulled back to reality and nods. Her mouth forming a smile.

“I would love that. I would absolutely love that. Thanks so much.” she murmurs, comes closer to him again and kisses him gently. He can tell she’s touched by this gesture, but that’s exactly what he wanted to achieve tonight. He wants to make her feel appreciated, respected, loved. He knows that after the past years with her ex, it’s still hard for her to let herself fall, enjoy the moment, let someone else take full control. But she deserves to be spoiled. She deserves to be treated this way. Always.

“Want to eat first? Or..”

She shakes her head, and it makes him laugh. She just presses her face next to his, hugging him like a koala bear. He smiles, can feel her craving his proximity. Within a second, he has lifted her up from the countertop, slowly walking up the stairs with her hugging him this closely. He can hear her giggle into his sweater, carefully closes the door to her bedroom behind them.

“Shall I leave the door open in case the little one wakes up?” he asks, carefully lets her down. She looks up at him smiling, then shakes her head.

“No, all good. I still have the baby monitor app on my phone. If there’s movement in her room, my phone goes off.”

He nods, his hand already on her cheek, stealing her forehead a last kiss before letting go again. She quickly turns on the little light next to her bed, then dims the room by turning off the main light. The mood has shifted, and it’s this romantic, low light she loves so much whenever she gets to be alone with him. This is her safe space. Him in her bedroom. The door closed. The world just staying outside.

“I’ll quickly go pee, okay? Do you.. do you need anything?”

“Bodylotion and a towel.” he says, and she smiles, not moving for a second.

“What?”

Standing in the door to the bathroom, looking at him, she just starts giggling. Her hand in front of her mouth now, the way she always does, whenever she gets shy for a second.

“Nothing. I.. I just can’t believe you’re so serious about giving me a massage.”

“Of course I am.” he says, has already taken off his sweatshirt and throws it over the little chair at the end of her bedroom.

“Do you have a lighter?”

“Yeah, top drawer by my bedside.” she says, can’t believe he’s putting so much effort into this. She just watches him reach for the lighter, then begins putting on the big Loewe candle at the end of her room. She can’t believe he’s got this romantic side to him. A side of him she doesn’t really know that well yet. He suddenly looks at her, a bit confused, not sure what she’s waiting for.

“Go pee, now. Come on.”

“Okay, okay.” she mumbles, laughing to herself and closing the bathroom door gently. A few minutes later, the door opens again and she’s slowly stepping up to him. He has sat down on the side of her bed now, wearing nothing but his sweatpants and some socks. She stops right in front of him, looks around the room. She can’t believe he’s put on the candles.

“Bodylotion?”

“Oh, I forgot.” she mumbles, makes her way back into the bathroom again. When she comes back, she passes him her favorite shea body butter and a large white towel. A little out of place, she just stands there, watches him place the towel on top of her bedding.

“Shall I..”

“Come here, I’ll do that.” he smiles at her, and she trusts him. In her sweatpants and shirt, she crawls onto the bed, lands on her back and giggles as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it over her head. She’s not wearing a bra yet he won’t break eye contact to her. A few seconds pass, and her pants have gone, too. She lays there for a moment, in the dim light, feeling a bit more vulnerable than usually.

“You warm enough?” he asks her, notices immediately that she’s not a hundred percent comfortable. But she nods, just watches him closely. He puts a generous amount of body lotion into his hands, starts warming his hands together.

“Shall I.. shall I take these off?” she asks him with a smirk in her face, and it makes him laugh.

“Yes.”

“Oh, so it’s that kind of a massage?”

“Babe..”

“I’m teasing.” she giggles, gets rid of her thong and turns around. Laying flat on her stomach now, she feels his hands land on her back and it makes her shiver for a second. With her head turned to the side she closes her eyes, feels him fix her hair to the side, to ensure it’s out of the way.

“Do you have a spot that pains you sometimes?” he asks her, almost a whisper. This is their world. Nobody is here to listen in, and she feels herself let go. Feels herself open up.

“Yeah my.. my upper back and neck. I have horrible posture, so..”

Within a second, Travis starts massaging the spot that always hurts her, and she melts into the pillow. She feels goosebumps form all over her body, and she can’t believe he’s so good at doing this. For a moment, she can’t really speak, can’t really think anymore. His warm, soft hands kned over her skin and she feels a deep relaxation take over her.

“Oh my god..” she whispers then, and he smiles, giving his best to help her muscles relax properly.

“Is that okay?” he asks her quietly, his hands moving up and down her back, again and again.

“So good. This is.. so good.” he smiles, continues his work. He takes some more of the body lotion, moves with his hand movements down again to her lower back. He can feel her relax more and more underneath him. With her eyes closed, the talkative woman is suddenly dead quiet.

“Baby?”

He hears her whisper, almost feels like his entire body tingles for a second. She’s never called him that. She’s never called him anything other than the occasional ‘babe’ or ‘Trav’. For a second, he loosens his movements, looks up at her. She hasn’t moved, her eyes are still closed. He’s worried he might have hurt her. A hint of fear coming through.

“You okay?”

“I might fall asleep, is that.. are you mad, if I..”

He laughs gently, keeps on working on her back.

“You can fall asleep if you want to. This is for you to relax, stop worrying about falling asleep.” he says in the calmest way possible. Taylor doesn’t move. She feels herself drift off, can’t believe the amount of work and effort he puts into every single inch of her body. She can still feel him work on her lower back, now slightly moving to her hips. She can feel his talented hands move down every single muscle on her side. Not only are his movements the perfect amount of pressure and ease, but he also seems to have an extensive knowledge about the general muscle allocation. She’s never been massaged by someone she’s intimate with, didn’t know how good it can feel to let go off the tensions she carries in her upper thighs, and even her bottom. She doesn’t move, doesn’t know if she’s asleep yet or if she’s reached a new level of letting go. She can feel him work his way down her legs, massaging out all the tension from tour rehearsals in her calves. It’s the first time that his touch hurts a little, but it gets less and less with every round of kneading from his fingers. With every touch, the tension leaves her body. She lets out a soft sigh when he starts massaging her feet. She knew he’s good at foot massages, but she didn’t know his massaging skills extend to her other muscles, too.

“You still awake?”

“Mhmhm.” she mumbles.

“Can you turn around for me?”

She immediately moves in her bed, looks at the man smiling at her. He can’t help but laugh a little bit. She must have been so comfortable that she didn’t notice the pillow leaving a proper imprint on the right half of her face. She’s too cute. Before reaching for the body lotion again, he can’t help but get closer, steals her warm cheek a soft kiss.

“I’m shocked about how talented you are, mister.” she mumbles then, relaxation in her voice. He smiles, reaches for her left hand, massages her arms up and down. She’s laying fully exposed in front of him. No blanket covering her. And she’s never felt so safe. Never before.

“This is the best massage I’ve ever gotten.” she adds. Her eyes slowly closing. With his left hand he holds her arm upright, kneading all the tensions in her upper arm.

“I’m glad.” he says, fully focused on his work. “I’ve gotten so many massages before that I really picked up where some of the muscles are located, and what type of movements help release tensions.” he explains, slowly lets go off her arm, and Taylor opens her eyes again. She feels his hands full of lotion gently massage her tummy now. Suddenly, her hand reaches for his arm. He looks at her.

“Trav?”

“Mhm?”

“Kiss me.”

He smiles, comes closer to her and steals her lips a gentle kiss. He lets go after a few seconds, keeps on massaging her soft belly. She feels everything in her body tingling for a second, and she knows why. She knew this massage would eventually get to this point, but she didn’t think it would relax her this much. She then feels his hand move up her torso and within a second, her eyes are open. Wide open. He stops then, lowers his head and starts laughing. Within a second, the mood has changed. Drastically.

“I promise this.. this was not a boob grab, I just wanted to massage your cleavage. You do have muscles there. Believe me or not. And..”

She giggles, too, holding onto his strong arm, clearly messing with him.

“Please go ahead, I’m not stopping you.” she says with a giggle, her eyes not leaving his. With his soft hands he wanders up, starts massaging the muscles on the side of her neck. He’s so close to her face now, so close, and his hands keep on making the same moves. She looks deep into his eyes, feels him hit her deep muscle tissue then. She swallows. It hurts. It hurts to feel all the tension leave her body. She closes her eyes.

“You’re so tense here.” he whispers. She nods. He keeps massaging her. “Feels like.. feels like you carried a lot of weight on your chest.”

She has no idea why, but within a second, a tear streams down her face. Travis stops immediately, but her hand reaches for his.

“Please keep.. keep going.” she sniffles. She doesn’t know why she gets so emotional all of the sudden. But whatever he was doing with her body right here, works. She feels all these stuck feelings leaving her body. So many emotions come back up. She’s so tired suddenly. She feels this pain so clearly. But she needs him to keep going. She needs him to knead it out until the very end.

“Is it.. is it getting less?” he asks her, has noticed what she experienced just now. He’s learned from his physiotherapist that especially in the chest area, people tend to hold their tensions. Their grudges. Their undigested feelings. The last thing he wants to do is hurt the woman in front of him. But with every kneading movement of his fingers, he can feel her soften up. She has her eyes closed, nods. He won’t stop. After a few minutes, his movement gets slower. She opens her eyes again, looks into his. Within a second, her hands land in his neck and she pulls him down to her, kisses him gently. Her tears have dried up, and instead, she feels him be as gentle as she can be. And he loves tasting her. He loves how soft she is. Everything about her. A doze of dopamine hitting his system. She lets go off him then, her hands in his neck so that their noses still touch.

“Thank you.” she whispers against his lips. He nods. She doesn’t need to say anything else. Slowly, she reaches for his left hand, not letting her eyes leave his. Within a few seconds, he realizes where her hand has moved. With the most gentle motion, she has placed his hand on the most intimate part of her body. He understands immediately, lowers his face to kiss her neck gently. He’s trying so hard. He’s trying so hard not to let these three words just come bursting out of his mouth in this moment. Her skin is so soft under his lips, her little hands on his scalp, caressing him gently. He can feel her longing for him in between her legs. His fingers gently exploring her body, being as careful as they could be. Within a few seconds, he leaves her neck, looks back into her eyes again. Her lips are a bit swollen from their previous kisses, and there’s a kind of calmness in her eyes he hasn’t seen before.

“You sure?” he asks her again, and she appreciates it so much. Not a single time they’ve slept with each other without Travis asking for her consent beforehand. She appreciates this, appreciates just how much he respects her. She nods, adjusting her head on the pillow. She looks down, so that she can witness his fingers moving gently. She feels her chest rising, enjoys every single one of his hand movements so much. She swallows, her breath a bit shaky now. She can feel him kiss her cheek while his hand keeps up the steady movement. She feels so safe in this moment. She knows she can let go. She knows with him, she’s always safe to let go.

“Fuck..” she mumbles then, a little sigh escaping her mouth then, breaking the silence between them. She’s holding onto his neck with her hand, desperately looking at him.

“Can you..”

Travis immediately looks at her. She is fully focused on his hands, her left hand on his lower arm now, feeling his muscles move while he pleasures her. With the other hand, she’s holding onto the towel underneath her. She struggles to speak right now, but he patiently waits for her to finish her thought. He feels so close to her in this moment. They’ve just reached a new level of intimacy. He can feel it in his bones.

“What..”

“Can you go.. just a bit faster?”

He doesn’t reply to her, just does what she asked him. His circle motions are steady but at a higher speed than before. And she appreciates it. So much. She lets her head fall back into the pillow, the little frown appearing on her face that he knows so well. A frown he only knows when he’s in between her legs. And he loves it so much. With his free hand he begins to caress her naked stomach a bit, her hand reaching for his. She’s close. And he’s ready to be there for her, for every second of it. A last little moan escapes her mouth and it gives him goosebumps. Suddenly, her breathing gets faster and faster and he can hear her whisper his name a few times, with the same high pitched desperate moan that he knows and loves so much. He can feel her ride off her wave of pleasure, tightly holding into his arm, guiding him in his movements. He looks into her face as it happens, and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. For a few seconds, she breathes fast with her mouth open, her body just coming down from this mountain she climbed with him. He knows she’s sensitive now, and he’s as gentle with her as humanly possible. His hand still between her legs, he doesn’t move, gives her the time and space to come back down to planet earth. She opens her eyes again after a few seconds, her cheeks flushed. She just pulls him down to her, kissing him full of giggles and lust. He can feel her hand reach for his boxers. He laughs into the kiss. He knows what she wants, and he would be lying if he said he doesn’t want exactly the same.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” she mumbles in between the shower of kisses she gives him, her hand now fully landing on his naked butt. She smiles into their kiss. The stubble of his beard scratching her face in the best way.

“You’re so welcome.” he whispers back, smiling at her. She loves to feel his naked weight on top of her now. Two noses touching. He looks down for a second, gently guiding himself into her. He watches her face closely, trying to find any trace of discomfort. But there is none. She closes her eyes in pleasure again, and so does he. Paradise. He opens his eyes again, feeling her arms holding onto his. Her frown is back. Paradise. He can feel her move with him, her mouth opened, sweet moans escaping her again. He knows she’s holding back, not forgetting that they’re not alone in this house. But he’s still in paradise.

“Baby..” she cries out then, half a whisper, half a beg, half a moan. He looks at her, his big hand already cupping her face. He kisses her forehead right over her bangs. She’s warm. She’s slowly but surely starting to sweat a little, just like him.

“Can I.. I want to be on top, please. Please.” she mumbles. He immediately stops, lets himself fall next to her in bed. He feels her get up, position herself on top of him. She’s still flushed, yet her eyes barely leave his. He looks up at her, can’t help but feel like he’s dreaming. Her long hair over her naked shoulders. Her hands reaching for his chest to hold herself upright. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She begins her movements again, and he helps her. His hands on her hips, his eyes on her face. She’s so beautiful. He can’t help but look at her. Can’t help but stare at her letting go on top of him.

After a few minutes, he feels his vision get blurry. She lets out another moan, a little louder than before. He feels himself come undone, then loves to feel her collapse on his chest. She’s breathing heavy, both of his hands on her bare back, feeling her lungs do the most in this moment. She comes down only slowly. Her skin hot and soft. She doesn’t move, just relaxes slowly. And he loves every minute of it. He loves feeling her get heavier and heavier on him. His hands stroking her back up and down, making her feel just as loved as before they had sex. A few seconds later, she looks back up at him, a smile on her face. He smiles back at her, both his hands cupping her face now, kissing her gently. This time, there’s no lust in his kisses no more. There’s just love. A lot of love.

She quickly moves on his torso and lets herself fall next to him. She stares at the ceiling for a second, then turns her head back to him. He’s moved to his side, just so he can see her better. His hand on her stomach again. He loves being so close to her. There’s nothing better than being so close to her. His fingers drawing circles on her skin.

“That escalated quickly.” she mumbles. He laughs, stealing her temple a soft kiss.

“Thanks for your.. for your incredible massage. Also for.. the other part after.” she says, grinning at him as goofy as a teenager who just had sex for the first time. It makes him laugh.

“I don’t think my body has ever felt so relaxed, Trav.” she whispers. His lips still on her temple. He smiles, as she looks back at him. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, he hasn’t noticed before. It must be the afterglow that people always speak about.

“You’re very welcome. Glad you liked it.”

“I didn’t just like it. Trav, that was.. electric. Literally electric.”

He smiles at her using his own words. She lets their noses touch once, has now moved to the side to be face to face, and eye to eye with him.

“Thank you so much.” she says again. He doesn’t really react, just places his hand on her cheek. There’s so much love in his eyes in this moment. He doesn’t need to say anything. His eyes just say it all.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

He starts moving, for the first time since minutes and helps her crawl underneath the big blanket just under them. She adjusts a little, then cuddles herself fully under the covers. Her hands looking for him. She moves again, until she’s finally fully embraced in his arms. He kisses her head, makes sure she’s covered by the blanket. Silence takes over, and he allows himself to close his eyes for a minute.

“Trav?”

“Mhm?

“Can we try this?”

“Try what?”

“Us.”

For a second, he can’t dare believe his ears. His eyes open, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know if she just meant what she said, but she said it. Taylor moves again, turns around to be able to face him. She’s worried suddenly that she’s said too much. She’s worried that his silence is something other than utter surprise. He looks at her in shock. Within a second, she feels a tummy ache flaring up inside of her.

“Do you.. can you please say something?” she mumbles and he takes a breath, slowly sits up. She’s worried now. She’s never witnessed him this freaked out. She knew it was too soon. But she can take it back. Thank god she didn’t fully speak it out yet. She can fix this. She looks at him leaning against her bed rest. She carefully sits up as well, holding the blanket close to her naked body.

“I’m so sorry for.. just.. not finding the right words, Tay.” he says finally, and she nods “No worries, I mean I know I..”

“My answer is yes. But I need you to know what I’m in for.” he interrupts her and she’s shocked for a moment. She looks at him, feels her hands shaking suddenly. She doesn’t feel relaxed anymore, at all. What bomb did she just set off? She can feel him get nervous as well. It’s been a while since he was acting like this around her.

“I.. I don’t want us to just be another fling. I..” he stops, gathering his words, “I know this is not the most romantic way to do this, but if we try this, if we.. if we try being something serious. Like.. as serious as a relationship. Then.. then I want you to know that I’m in it for the long run.” he looks into her eyes, fully aware that this could scare her off for good. But he needs to honor himself. He needs to be straight with her, or else this won’t have a chance of working out.

“I’m not in this, if.. if you want a little distraction. Or a little fun. I want a partnership. I want to have a family eventually. And of course, we.. we have a long way to go. To see if we fit. To see if this can work. But I just want you to know that if we try this, then.. then this is my intention.”

Travis takes a deep breath after finishing his little speech. He can’t dare look at her again, but he’s proud of himself for having said it. Suddenly, he feels her hands reach for his. He looks back into her eyes, and she smiles. A little tear in her eyes. He can see that clearly.

“Okay.” she whispers. He swallows, not sure how to react. All he feels is her small hand caressing his.

“Okay?”

She nods, a smile on her lips.

“I want the same thing. With you. But.. I’m just.. I just hope you know what you are in for. With all this attention. I will be on tour soon, Trav. If you think this is bad, the security and the.. the staying hidden, then you have no idea what you’re in for in the next months. My life is crazy. My life is.. fully out of control. But it’s my life. And I have lost years of my life hiding for someone else who couldn’t handle the pressure. And.. and I can’t do that no more. I’m all in, but I just hope you know what that means for you.”

He looks at her, a big smile on his face. All the worries from before are gone. He nods.

“Tay?”

She looks at him, worry in her face. She knows his smile can’t really mean that he changed his mind after her little speech. But she is in fact worried that he will regret this. That he will ask her for more time to think about this. About what it means to be in a relationship with her.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?” she says, her hand still holding his. She looks at the man in her bed. His naked torso leaned against her bed rest, his smile all over his face as he looks at her. She feels calm just looking at him smile like this, but there’s still a part of her that is full of anxiety right now.

“I.. I think I’m really really really in love with you. Like… so much, it’s not even funny.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him for a moment.

“Is that okay? I feel like.. maybe this is a good time to tell you. I will let you know if I can’t handle your life, I promise. But I need you to know that I’m ridiculously in love with you. And.. and it would make me the happiest person on this planet to call you my girlfriend.”

Travis finishes his sentence. She doesn’t say anything, just sits up a bit, both of her hands touching his cheeks. She presses her forehead against his, then leans in and kisses him. It’s a different type of kiss. She’s emotional. His hands land on her bare back again.

“I love you, too.” she whispers then, closes her eyes and lets him kiss her bangs gently.

“So much.”

___

“You sure this is a good idea?”

He asks again, sitting on the bed and looking at her. He’s wearing a pair of his Nike sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He watches her finish her make up in the mirror by her bedroom. She looks incredible, just like every day. A pair of blue boyfriend jeans covering her small frame, a grey longsleeve shirt on top and her black adidas shoes covering her feet. He loves to watch her get ready in the morning. He doesn’t know why, but it’s just another way of spending time with her. Witnessing her every move, every mundane thing she does in the morning, getting to know her even better.

“Of course it is.” she says again, for the fifth time today, turning around to look at him with a smirk. He laughs too, now, knowing he acts absolutely ridiculous. After all, it’s her dad. She loves her dad. And he’s always been popular with his ex- girlfriend’s fathers. No need to act like a little boy now, Travis.

“Listen, my parents are.. very much open to the idea of me dating again. I know they want me to be happy. And.. trust me, it’ll be fine.”

He nods, watches her walk towards him. She stops standing right in front of him. He presses his face into her shirt, right above her stomach, giving her a few nervous kisses.

“Also, I can’t stand the thought of you flying out today. So we definitely need to have a nice lunch altogether before you leave.” she mumbles into his head, kissing his head once.

He looks back up at her and smiles. He can’t believe he’s flying out to Kansas City again. He can’t believe he’s spent five extra days in this city. Unplanned. The most incredible, beautiful, five days with this woman. Not a single chance, he could ever forget these days in his lifetime.

“I’ll miss you, sweetie.” he mumbles. She nods, and he can see in her face that it worries her. She doesn’t want to leave their bubble. And neither does he.

“I’ll miss you, too.” she says, “But it’s just one week.”

He nods. They can do one week. They’ll be fine.

“Travy, look. I did this for you!”

Taylor quickly lets go off Travis, hears her daughter run into her mother’s bedroom. A pencil and a piece of paper in her small hands. Taylor and Travis decided to let some time pass before explaining to Eleanor where they both stand, with each other, in their relationship. She won’t ever fully introduce someone into her life, unless it’s as serious as it could get. And they’ve got time. They’ve got all the time in the world for this big move.

“What? For me?” Travis looks at the little painting she made him. He’s in true disbelief. Eleanor smiles proudly at her mommy, gets all shy and nods then.

“This is Olivia and Benjamin and Chauncy and Rambo.”

Taylor can’t help but laugh a little, looks from Travis back to Eleanor. Her hands land on the little curlyhead. All it took was for Travis to show Eleanor a few pictures and videos of his dogs, and the little girl fell in love. Taylor knows how much she adores animals. Of course, she would fall in love with his doggs in a minute - even without having met them yet.

“Oh my goodness. Eleanor. This is.. this is beautiful.” he says, completely serious, looking into the little girl’s proud face.

“Wow, you’re so talented.” he says,pokes her tummy once and she giggles.

“Can I get a hug?” he asks, and Eleanor falls into the big man’s arms. For a moment, Taylor stands there and feels herself get emotional. She knows this little girl hasn’t had a steady male figure in her life, besides her grandfather and her uncle, for almost a year now. Ever since her separation from Joe, Eleanor has seen her father twice. Phone calls that were promised got less and less. And Taylor could feel Joe not just forget about her, but also his daughter. He’s left her. She can barely let these thoughts enter her mind, but sometimes, they just come creeping back up. She knows that Eleanor knows exactly that her father hasn’t called in months. And Taylor knows that maybe, just maybe, this is why she’s so crazy about Travis. And how can she not be? He’s tall, he’s funny, he makes her laugh and he’s so kind and gentle to her.

“Thanks so much, girly. I’m honored. This is beautiful. I will hang this one up in my house.” Travis says to Eleanor. Taylor notices Eleanor’s hand landing on Travis’s.

“And I promise you, soon you will meet Rambo and Chauncey. I promise. And I’ll send mommy some videos tonight.” he says, making Eleanor jump up and down a few times. Taylor loves seeing her so excited. She loves this relationship that’s slowly forming between Travis and her. But then again, the more she feels these two connecting, the more she feels herself growing anxious. A deep wave of anxiety, worry, almost panic arising in her chest.

If this won’t work out, then Travis will break two hearts.

Not just one.

___

“Grandpa!”

Travis hears Eleanor screaming while running towards the elevator door of the townhouse. He just stands there in the kitchen, taking a deep breath, which he hopes will remain unnoticed. Taylor already laughed at him taking off his earrings before. But he wants to be as presentable as possible for her dad. After all, he’s the man who entered his daughter’s and granddaughter’s life. He wants him to have a good first impression. Whatever that means. Travis slowly makes his way to the door, watches Eleanor jump onto Scott’s arm. The older man laughs a few times, already listening to Eleanor tell him all about her new school. Taylor just looks back to Travis, rolling her eyes at her daughter. He laughs. Eleanor is a very talkative little girl. He absolutely adores it about her.

“Hi, honey.” Scott says then, hugging his daughter. Travis immediately feels the man’s eyes on him. He smiles at him, not sure how to act. He takes a step closer to him, opening his arms. Immediately, he realizes that Scott gives him a hand shake instead. Slightly embarrassed, he shakes his hand, tries to hide the fact that he expected the welcome to be a bit warmer, instead.

“Hi, Mr. Swift. It’s so good to meet you. Taylor told me so much about you.”

Scott smiles, barely, and nods.

“Nice to meet you.”

Taylor watches the interaction, and gets a little confused. Her father is usually the warmest person she knows, has never not opened his arms for any of Taylor’s friends, or even her crappy ex-boyfriends. She’s not used to her dad being this cold, especially towards someone as open and as warm as Travis. Her parents have always taught her to keep warm people close. And Travis is one of these people.

Taylor doesn’t say anything, just places her arm on Travis’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture but he knows its her way of assuring him.

“So glad you get to meet Travis, dad.” she mumbles, but Scott doesn’t really react, is suddenly extremely busy hanging up his jacket next to the door.

“Alright, shall we have lunch?” she says then, hoping the mood in the room gets lighter soon. She feels incredibly insecure suddenly. But she hopes Travis won’t feel any of this. He doesn’t deserve to not feel welcomed. After all, he’s been the most incredible person in her life for these past months.

“Sounds good.” Scott says, placing his bag in the dining room.

“Grandpa, can we watch a movie together?” Eleanor asks her grandfather, already holding his hand again. Scott smiles at her, his hand protectively on her little head.

“Sweetheart, your mommy and I have a few work meetings after lunch. But tonight, we can watch a movie together. How about that?”

Eleanor nods, seems to not be very happy about his answer.

“Should I.. do you need any help in the kitchen?” Travis asks Taylor. She looks at him, and immediately feels his tension. She hates it.

“Actually, why don’t you and dad just sit down, and Eleanor and me we can get lunch ready huh?”

Her hand lands on Travis’s back. He gives her that one look that always makes her laugh. But she knows this is good. As soon as her dad and him talk for a bit, the tensions in this penthouse will disappear and her dad will absolutely love him. Just like everyone else in her life so far.

“So, Scott. I heard you were also big on football during high school?” Travis asks, sitting down right in front of him at the dining table. Scott looks at him, no smile in sight. He nods.

“Yup, I was a running back for five years.”

“Oh wow.” Travis laughs, obviously relieved that the two have found a topic to discuss. “That’s awesome. Did you ever think about doing it professionally?”

“I was a Finance major. So football was obviously just a hobby. Nothing more.”

“Yeah, I get it. For me, was quite the opposite. Sports was always the only thing I was good at, so..”

Scott doesn’t react. Silence. Travis looks up at him, has run out of things to say. Her dad clearly isn’t interested in a conversation with him. Instead, the seventy year-old man picks up Eleanor, helping her crawl onto the chair next to him. She shows him her little photo book that her mother has crafted with her, and filled with polaroids of herself and her three cats. Travis watches Scott smile at Eleanor. The shift in his mood couldn’t be more obvious. He’s completely in awe with his granddaughter, as he should be. And he couldn’t be less interested in getting to know him. Travis swallows, feels Taylor’s hand on his back. He can see in her face that she feels the same as him, pretends to put on a smile for him. But he can see right through her. There’s no denying that the mood is off.

“What do you guys want to drink? Water? Sparkling water? Soda?”

“I’ll just get a water. Thanks, honey.” Scott says.

“Coke for you, babe?” she asks Travis. Her hand gently caressing his cheek over his beard.

“I’ll just.. get a water. Thanks, babe.”

She doesn’t say anything, and Travis wasn’t the only one feeling her father’s eyes on him. Taylor walks back into the kitchen, feels herself slowly get angry. She doesn’t know what has gotten into her dad. But she really hopes he gets it together, soon.

“Do you usually just drink sodas for lunch, Travis?”

Taylor places the waterbottle on the countertop with a bang. She’s getting mad, now. One more word and she’s going to loose her patience. Travis has been nothing but kind and polite. Yet her father treats him like a criminal.

“Well, I train a lot. So I need to get my calories in somehow. I try to stick to diet drinks, but.. well sometimes an ice cold coke is just.. refreshing.” he laughs, a little insecure as he doesn’t get a nod back.

“Sodas are the number one reason for type one diabetes in our country. And that goes especially for children, Travis. I always tell Taylor it’s probably safer to have pesticides in the house than to give Eleanor any of these sugar drinks.”

Travis doesn’t say anything, just nods. He asks himself if he was irresponsible these past days. After all, he did drink coke in front of Eleanor and even let her try once when Taylor allowed him to. He gets quiet, understands that there’s no arguing with her dad in this. After all, he’s right.

“Too bad, because all this little girl drinks is coke and fanta and sprite. Oh, and sometimes before bed I add some sugar to her coke. Just makes her more sleepy, I find. The good old sugar crash just does the job.” Taylor says, a hint of anger in her voice. She places the food and water she just brought on top of the hardwood table. Scott just shakes his head, his hand still protectively on Eleanor’s little head.

“Not funny, Taylor.”

“Dad, come on. As if you never drink coke for lunch.”

“Well, I certainly don’t after having cancer.”

“Here goes the good vibes.” Taylor says, angry, looking at Travis. He doesn’t say anything, and she feels horrible for him. Under the table, she reaches for his hand, squeezes it a few times.

“Eat up, guys.” she says then, encouraging the two men to start eating. Eleanor reaches for her glass of water, and starts chugging it down. It gets quiet. Horribly quiet. Travis doesn’t speak, and neither does Scott.

“Grandpa.” Eleanor says, and Taylor has to smirk. Of course her bubbly five-year old would kill these weird vibes today.

“Yes, honey.” Scott says.

“Look at my bracelets.” she says, proudly, showing her grandfather her arm full of friendship bracelets.

“Oh, beauiful. Did you make that all by yourself?”

“Yes, with my friend Emily.”

“That’s awesome.”

“And this one I made with Travy yesterday.” she says proudly, smiling at Travis. He smiles back at her, his head tilting slightly to the side. He always does that whenever Eleanor looks at him with her little eyes. Taylor witnesses the interaction with a smile.

“Travy?”

“Yeah, she… well, my nieces always call me Travy so I told Eleanor she can call me..”

“Taylor. Can I speak with you outside for a second.”

Taylor swallows. For a moment, the entire demeanor around this table has shifted, once again. Travis knows exactly what this is about. He feels guilty all of the sudden. Guilty for having entered Taylor’s life. Guilty for getting closer to Eleanor. He can feel Taylor get more tense. The two adults get up, leave the room to take the stairs up to the rooftop patio. He swallows. He’s definitely lost his appetite now. He just sits there, leans back. A door is closing. Loudly. And then all he hears is yelling. Scott yelling, then Taylor. Then Scott. Then Taylor interrupting him yelling some more. He’s so glad he can’t hear just every word he says. But he knows what this is about. And hearing Taylor yell like this is not something he’s ever witnessed before.

“Travy..” Eleanor mumbles then, looks at Travis confused.

“Is mommy fighting with grandpa?” she asks him, has also put down her fork. He can see in her little blue eyes that she’s worried. And Travis feels even worse. He swallows, takes a deep breath, then sighs.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Eleanor nods.

“I don’t like it when mommy is mad. Because.. because sometimes, she gets sad, too.”

“Yeah, I also hated when my mommy was sad.”

Eleanor nods.

“Maybe grandpa didn’t like my bracelets.” she says then. Travis can’t help but smile suddenly. He can’t believe this beautiful little girl thinks anything she ever did is the reason her mom and grandpa are fighting.

“Hey, give me your hand, girly.” he says then, gently. Eleanor looks at him, and Travis reaches for her small hand on top of the table.

“Listen to me.” he mumbles, “your grandpa absolutely loves your bracelets. Trust me.”

Eleanor nods slowly. He caresses her tiny hand for a second, so long, until Eleanor seems to be lighting up again.

“Travy.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise to send mommy the video of Chauncey and Rambo, okay?”

He smiles gently, then nods.

“I promise.”

#taylor swift #taylor swift fanfiction #travis kelce #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fanfic #smut #fluffy #fanfic #fanfiction #citybound #lovebound

172 notes · View notes

venomwrites · 1 month ago

Text

Warnings for violence, character death, sadness. Also on Ao3

It takes weeks for their first resupply.

The airship is well stocked. Too well stocked, if Vi thinks about it. It’s a week before she realizes this was someone’s escape. She spends the next days torturing herself with who they could have been, what their faces could have looked like when they realized their ticket out had been punched. Did they see them flying away? Were they able to get out? But then Jinx mumbles that she’s hungry and the torturous thoughts shift back to the reason she’s here. She promised Jinx that they could go. Jinx didn’t want to help but she was willing to shuffle out of the bunker with her. All of the guards had been shifted to the gates. But their luck seemed to hold all the way to the Airship docks. It held as they got onto the ship. It was already started, already humming like it was waiting for them. It wasn’t, it was waiting for someone else but Jinx shuffled forward and so Vi took it. She’d been pick pocketing for weeks before Jinx got her, but this is a huge job. Her hands shook as she cast off the rope and her side ached as she scrambled onto the ship. But Jinx pointed to a button and she thumbed it and the job was done. Full gas, full supplies, the beds were maid with fresh linens. She and Jinx curled up in the smallest one, limbs locking together like they were kids again.

For weeks they just drift where the wind takes them.

Half the time they don’t even put the engines on. Their destination is ‘away’. So they drift and conserve fuel. Jinx just stares away mostly, barely even having the energy to speak. Shifting back into taking care of her is like breathing. Vi combs and braids her hair. She boils the fresh food into stews and forces it through strainers turning it into something finer. Some she stores away. Some she guides through her sister’s lips on the days when Jinx can’t bring herself to eat. She remembers how to make brine and pickle vegetables. Soon one of the pantries is full of jars that will last them long after the fresh food is supposed to rot. She sorts through the contents of the ship and creates piles of things they can sell. During that process she finds a box that is so stuffed with credits she claps it shut and looks for witnesses. There are none. It’s just her and Jinx on this airship and Jinx is in the wheelhouse with the windows slitted open. Vi doesn’t let her on the deck unsupervised right now. Jinx doesn’t fight her.

Eventually though they do need gas.

By that time Jinx is a bit more alive, but not by much. So Vi coils her hair under a cap and puts her in some of the clothing left for the servants. She pulls on some of the clothing left for the family. She knows they might be looking for her so she chooses a dress instead of pants and finds the cosmetics laid out for the woman. She pains her face and puts on a hat with a little veil that helps hide her scars. When she tests the undergarments they fit oddly well and she thanks whoever is listening their luck is holding. She pulls on the dress and stockings and fawn colored cape. When she comes out Jinx looks at her quietly for a moment and Vi rolls her eyes to let her know she’s aware of how foolish she looks.

“Next time you can be the lady if you’re up for it,” she says.

Jinx doesn’t reply.

Vi gets the airship parked following Jinx’s quiet points. She ties it off and goes to speak to the man in charge of the dock. He’s a stout, old man who straightens up when he mistakes her for a lady. Her heart aches at how much he reminds her of Benzo. She hopes he made a good welcome for Dad. The idea of them together in the afterlife always felt nice. Now she knows it’s a reality. Finally. She swallows down the lump the thought brings and focuses on the man.

“We need gas,” she says, “water,” she pretends to consider, “somewhere to restock our food,” the man is still staring at her and Vi wonders if they’re going to have to run. They have enough to get somewhere new, but it’ll be close, “sir?”

“Apologies, ma’m,” he says, blinking back to life, “forgive my rudeness, we just didn’t think anyone made it out.”

The adrenaline doesn’t dissipate now that she know she hasn’t been caught. If anything it gets worse. The man softens and comes around the counter. He hesitates a moment before he embraces her tightly.

“There’s still hope then.”

“Did you have family there?” She tries and he shakes his head.

“No, thank the Gods. But friends do.”

“We left before it happened,” she says, “we ran.”

The word comes out unexpectedly choked.

“None of that,” he says, handing her a handkerchief, “if you’d have stayed you’d be like the rest of them. That’s not a fate I’d wish on my worst enemy,” his eyes move to Jinx and his face softens. He scribbles something on a pad and hands the paper to her, “take this to Marcello’s shop. He’ll have supplies for you. I’ll get you refueled. Will your servant stay?”

“No, she’ll come with me,” Vi says, “she’s recovering.”

The man nods.

“I’ll see to it personally,” he says. Vi nods and moves towards the door. The man hesitates and then calls after her, “you’ve got a good heart, ma’m,” he says, “thanks to the Gods it still beats.”

Vi blinks away the sting in her eye and steers Jinx into town. The man calls ahead because when they get there a cart is waiting with boxes of food. It’s more food than Vi has seen in one place in a long time. It looks like their own personal market. It makes her think of the Kiramman pantry. But she shoves the memory away. She needs the tears but they have to be fake. Jinx picks up the handle of the cart as she pays for their supplies. They undercharge her criminally for them and wish her well. The boxes are loaded onto the ship and their gauges all read full before Vi finally can swallow the question back no longer.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me any rumors about Zaun?” She asks, “for my servant?”

The man’s face falls but he nods and pulls her to the side. Vi positions herself so she can keep an eye on Jinx, but she’s picking through the fruit.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news,” he says, “the last party said Zaun fell to it right after,” he twists his hands together, “the straight’s fallen. Bilgewater’s gone, Ixal will be next.”

Vi wants to demand answers but knows she can’t without compromising her cover. His voice turns urgent.

“I’d keep floating,” he says, “high as you can. They’re not in the sky yet. If you see them, turn everything off. They don’t want your stuff, they just want your mind.”

“We left before we could see them, do you know what they look like?”

“White and gold,” he says, “lock your servant up if you see them. They aren’t who they used to be.”

Vi thinks she might be sick.

“They belong to the Herald now.”

Those two sentences haunt her as she puts them back in the sky. Jinx is tearing into the flesh of some pulpy fruit. Seeds of another are collected in a little bowl. It’s a good thing she’s eating, but all Vi can do is twist the words in her head. They aren’t who they used to be, they belong to the Herald now. She pulls out one of the maps and lays it on the table. She takes one of the seeds out and puts them near the outpost they just re-supplied at. They’re moving away towards the sea. She picks up a pencil and circles the straight between Piltover, Zaun and Bilgewater. Her plan was for them to drift more, but now there’s places they cannot go. They’ll need to use more gas which means more resupplies. If this is spreading across the continents, then they need to start making their way somewhere else. It could buy them some time.

“Will this thing make it to Ionia?” She asks Jinx. The fruit has helped her perk up a bit. She glances around and shrugs, “best guess.”

“Probably,” Jinx says, “if the weather holds,” she leans forward over the map. A drop of juice lands on Piltover but Vi doesn’t even think to scold her. Piltover’s gone, “we might need to supply here.”

“He said that’s gone,” Vi says.

“So no guards.”

Vi smiles but she hopes they don’t have to resupply there.

She hopes the weather holds.

That night she dreams of Caitlyn again. She’s wide-eyed and terrified, yelling Vi’s name over and over. She hovers over her like she had for months before. Though this time Vi knows she’s there. Her fingers are painful on Vi’s wound as she shoves the lacy cravat against it to try and staunch the bleeding. All Vi can do is try to make eye contact as the world pulls away. Regret churns in her gut for how she shoved Caitlyn to the side to stagger after Jinx. How Caitlyn shouted at her not to but Vi pushed forward anyway. Jinx is the most important thing. She always has been. All Vi can do is hear Vander’s plea even as he roars and flings lava everywhere. She thought his first death was horrible but she’d give anything for him to be laying on the ground twisting with Shimmer. She left Powder then, she’s not making the same mistake.

She’d rather die.

She nearly does.

It’s worth it. But her under arm feels painfully cold with Caitlyn’s absence and her hands sting from pushing her away.

In the dream Caitlyn’s scream turns distorted. Her face freezes and cracks and turns white. White and gold, like he said. Behind her she sees a figure whose unnaturally long hand is buried in Caitlyn’s scalp. Her inky hair turns into a web of gold that makes Vi think of her stupid beret. The grip she has on Vi’s wound turns agonizing as her fingers push through Vi’s flesh. She opens her mouth to yell but only blood comes out as Caitlyn’s fingers part her flesh and bump against her spine. Caitlyn’s features are lost to the white that takes over her skin, but a tear still falls from where her eyes used to be and trails to join the blood Vi coughs onto her face. It all drips back onto Vi’s cheek as the white thing that was Caitlyn leans closer in a mockery of their first kiss.

Vi wakes with a yell.

She looks over but the bed is empty. The ship lurches horribly. One glance tells her they are caught in a storm. Vi scrambles to her feet and grabs the handholds in the wall. The ship is full of clever details like that. There’s another tilt and she holds on tighter, digging in her heel. The thick carpet in the hall strains and shifts before it gives way. Vi looks down to see glue on the edge. More glue is revealed as more of the carpet pulls back. Vi glares at the loss of her foothold and the cheapness of the job. She’s shocked it’s held up for months and infuriated it chose now to give up. The ship thankfully rocks back to center. Vi scrambles forward past the bunched carpet. She nearly falls on the most bunched part and yells in frustration, ripping it the rest of the way off and rolling it towards the other wall. If they need to run down the hallway she doesn’t want either of them wiping out on it.

“Fucking Pilties,” she mutters when she realizes there’s another carpet underneath.

She rips the top one off from the other side and shoves it into one of the other rooms. It’s minutes she wishes she didn’t have to waste but she knows it’s time well spent. She runs up to the wheelhouse to see Jinx gripping the steering wheel. Her face is serious and her fingers are dexterous. Vi realizes she’s taken them down and is finding a place for them to land. She opens her mouth to protest but Jinx shakes her head and flicks a few switches. The ship drops like an elevator. Gears and mechanism whir as they drop through the sky and then gently lower onto a wide stone balcony. They nestle close to the doors so if anything hits like lightening, it’ll hit the giant house first.

“Where are we?”

“Dunno,” Jinx says, “I hit the emergency landing and the ship went on autopilot horizontally. I was just controlling the vertical.”

“Weird,” Vi says, “you think anyone’s home?”

Jinx looks and shakes her head. For the first time Vi sees something like worry on her face. Immediately she puts her hand on her shoulder.

“You wanna be the lady this time in case we have to explain?”

Jinx shakes her head.

They change back into their disguises quickly, but no-one comes. Something feels wrong in a new way. Her fingers itch for her Gauntlets. But the pistol will have to suffice. Vi makes her way back to their room. Past the wheelhouse, back down the stupid hallway with it’s double carpet. She just hopes whoever’s lawn they’ve landed on doesn’t come before she gets the weapon. She keeps it hidden from Jinx but if push comes to shove, she’ll have to ask her to get it. But no-one comes as she gets to the steps leading down the hallway. She has to take them slower when her feet are in the stupid stockings but it’s better than running in the blocky shoes. That slowness means for the first time the second carpet registers.

For the second time the handholds are the only thing keeping her upright.

The keys are crossed and stamped at neat intervals along the dark blue fabric. Not the new ones with the Noxus gem, these are the old ones that were littered around the Kiramman house. As her eyes take them in, it feels like someone has put a key into her brain. She can feel every pin shifting into place. The lack of guards, the abundance of supplies, the pile of money. She looks down at the garments she’s wearing. The clothes fit her. Pistol forgotten, Vi races back along the route to the fancy bedroom. The one where all the lady’s stuff is. She’s been sewing her entire life. She turns one of the blouses inside out and sees the hastily shifted seam. Another coat has an extra button still tacked onto the corner. Dread pounds through Vi as throws the new clothing aside and flings back the cover of the bed.

She would know those sheets anywhere.

Her knees smack the ground as she stares at them. The thoughts of the family this ship was meant for vanish. Instead she sees Caitlyn signing documents while she’s unconscious in the background. She sees her pushing money into a box she knows Vi will find and handing Vi’s measurements to someone to get clothes that will fit. Three days. She had three days and she did all of this knowing Ambessa was coming for her. And what had VI done? Yelled at her. Even when Caitlyn told her Jinx surrendered, that she kept her safe. Even when she looked at her with that anguish on her face. None of it had registered. Caitlyn hadn’t just put Jinx in the bunker in her own house, she had cleared the way for them. She gave them everything they needed to get away. Vi lurches to her feet again and runs to the other wardrobe. The clothes in there are cut slimmer. There’s a brush and hair ties. For a moment Vi feels hope but then she sees how short the pants are. How they are faintly patterned.

Caitlyn never planned on coming with them.

The realization crashes into Vi as the fabric falls from her hands. Caitlyn set this up, she put her own sheets on the bed and arranged for all of this so Vi and Jinx could get away. Caitlyn who threw away all of her plans for the slim chance Vi could get more time with her father. Who put Vi in her bed, the only place Vi can remember feeling truly safe. She did all of that and Vi yelled at her. Vi left her. She wanted Vi to leave her. Vi feels an itch in her mind. Caitlyn wanted her gone, but that makes no sense. The battle was weeks out. Vi could have been healed and ready to fight in that time. Vi would have fought, especially with Jinx in the bunker. But even if she hadn’t been, Vi would have fought. It was what she did best. There has to be a reason for this. Something she’s missing. There wouldn’t just be nothing. She grabs the small pull on the first drawer of the nightstand and starts to look for a note.

She doesn’t find one.

She finds so much though. Papers with her and Jinx’s pictures but different names. There’s a case with orange tinted glasses that will hide Jinx’s eyes. A box full of thick cotton wraps for her hands. Her red jacket is in one of the closets. She finds her old necklace nestled among a truly nauseating amount of sapphires and diamonds. She finds her old Enforcer badge, back in it’s case. But nothing with Caitlyn’s handwriting. Nothing that tells her why she did this. She scrubs her face and thumbs through the books again to see if something’s hidden there. Nothing. There’s nothing. The only scrap of Caitlyn’s handwriting are the forged signatures on the documents and that’s not what she wants. That’s not Caitlyn. That’s Caitlyn pretending to be her.

“Vi?” Jinx’s voice is tentative at the door.

“Did she say anything to you?” Vi asks and the desperation in her voice makes both of them jump. Jinx shifts back and looks heartbreakingly like Powder for a moment, “sorry,” Vi says quickly, “when I was out did she say anything to you?”

“Who?” Jinx asks quietly.

Anger floods through Vi at the question before she remembers Jinx has no way of knowing what she knows. She doesn’t know Caitlyn did all of this for them. It takes everything to pull back on the rush of anger and look at her sister.

“Caitlyn,” she says, “did Caitlyn say anything?”

“No she just talked to you,” Jinx says, “until the bunker.” Vi’s heart jumps, “she brought me food. She said there wouldn’t be a trial,” Jinx continues, “when you came and you looked so happy, I didn’t want you to watch me be executed. Even though I deserve it. I knew it’d hurt you and I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

The air goes out of Vi’s lungs.

“You knew it’d hurt me?” Vi asks weakly.

“You hate seeing people hurt,” Jinx says, coming closer.

The words hang between them as the horrible truth settles into Vi’s marrow. Caitlyn protected her. Even if the battle meant they would both die, Caitlyn made sure Vi wouldn’t watch people die. She made sure Vi wouldn’t suffer. Even after the things Vi yelled at her. A low sound pulls from her chest at the realization. Any doubt Vi had that the Caitlyn she fell for was in there somewhere vanishes. It’s too smart a trap. Not the brutal ones Caitlyn laid in their search for Jinx. This is a clever one. Unbearably clever. And Vi fell for it. It should feel like a snare but as she looks at the trap, even she cannot find any cruelty in it. It should feel like a snare but instead it feels like an embrace. Like Caitlyn pressing her tears into her neck on the bridge. Like the way her arms wound around her when their lips finally met. She had begged her not to change. She felt betrayed when she did. Now she sees there’s a part of Caitlyn that didn’t. But she was too blind to see it. Caitlyn was there and she just left.

“Where are we?” Vi demands.

“Huh?”

“Where are we?” She hurries up to the wheelhouse, “how close are we to Piltover?” Her mind shifts. Caitlyn’s brilliant, of course that guy was wrong. She’s found a way to survive, “we have to get there.”

“Vi we can’t,” Jinx says.

“We have to!” Vi argues, “Caitlyn’s there—she’s probably in the Bunker waiting for us,” she tries to think. The ship was well stocked, the bunker must be too, “they’re probably running low on supplies so we gotta hurry—“

“Vi!” Jinx finally says her name in a way that registers. She looks at the anguish on her face and forces herself to stop for a moment. Even though everything in her screams to start running through the storm, “she’s not.”

“Jinx—“ Vi shakes her head, “I know I’m asking a lot but this is an emergency. She’s waiting, we can get her and figure this all out. I made her think I didn’t care, I gotta fix that—“

“No, Vi,” Jinx makes a miserable sound, “she talked to me in the bunker. She said she was exhausted and tired of hating me,” she chews her lip, “she said she hated herself.”

“What did you say?” Vi questions.

“I told her I didn’t know her mom was up there,” she says.

“What else?”

Jinx shakes her head.

“She left right after.”

Vi looks back at the map and forces her anger down. It’s not just at Jinx, it’s at herself. She yelled at Caitlyn and Jinx told her that her mother’s death was little more than an afterthought. Caitlyn hated herself. Vi abandoned her to a woman she betrayed. A monster she betrayed. She hadn’t truly been loyal, if she had she would have done things differently. All those months and how Caitlyn must have felt make her head spin. All of that she weathered alone. Vi had made a few attempts to get in contact but they were all quickly rebuffed. She thought it was because of how much she fucked up, but the world has shifted. Was Caitlyn protecting her even then? She misses the chair and sits down hard on the floor. Jinx comes over and sits in front of her. There’s life in her eyes, but it feels like it’s coming out of Vi.

“We’ll go as soon as the weather clears,” Jinx says.

Vi nods but her gaze keeps dragging towards the stone columns.

And the crossed keys stamped into them.

She waits for Jinx to fall asleep before she slips away. She’s been doing it for years. Slipping out of bed without waking her. She knows enough after months of flying this thing to program the autopilot on a delay. She does everything she can think of to slow Jinx down and she leaves a note. She promises she’ll be back as soon as she can, but if something happens Jinx needs to go. Needs to live for as long as she can. Live for all of them. She says she’s proud of her and would do it all a thousand times over to call her sister. She signs it ‘Always’. Then she gathers what she needs, puts on her red jacket and slips out of the ship.

She makes it to Piltover a few hours later.

The storm has shifted into just a downpour, no wind. Vi wishes there was as she looks at the bridge. This one is narrower. It’s a private bridge, one people aren’t allowed on unless you’re a founding family. The double keys were a dead give away. The ship going to that house makes a lot more sense now that she knows it’s a Kiramman ship. Of course it went to a Kiramman house. Now she’s on a Kiramman road. She waivers as she looks at the bridge. The autopilot is set for day. Jinx is still asleep probably. She could turn back. She should turn back. The chances of Caitlyn being alive are so impossibly slim. She and Jinx could have months more floating in the sky. This plague could stop. She could go off with the new life that’s been given to her so selflessly.

But Caitlyn will be here.

Her parents will be here.

Vander and Benzo and Mylo and Claggor—

And Caitlyn.

Vi steps onto the bridge.

The rain obscures her vision enough that it’s a surprise when she realizes there’s something ahead. She’s never seen the things before. Only heard the whispered rumors of how you can’t let them touch you. Maybe the rain is giving her some cover because this one hasn’t moved. It stands perfectly still. It’s faceless and white, etched through with gold. All she can think of is how the elongated, elegant limbs remind her of Viktor. She steps forward and the doll shifts just slightly. Just enough for Vi to know she’s been made. The option of going back closes behind her. She waits for the feeling of horror, but all she feels is relief. Peace settles over her as she looks at the face. You’re not supposed to try and guess who they were. But if she’s going to die, she figures why not? There’s a lot of gold on this one, it’s actually more gold than white. Including a dip where a lip should be.

“Vi,” the robotic says her name but it speaks with Viktor’s voice. Another pin slides into place, “this is a surprise.”

“Is it?” She asks.

“No, this is inevitable” the doll says, “but I thought it would be a few months before we met again. Where is your sister?”

“Long gone,” she says, “months, right?” The doll inclines its head, “so what does it matter?”

“You still sacrifice yourself so easily.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m here,” she says.

The doll moves and it’s suddenly in front of her. It’s fucking fast. Her dream echoes back to her of the hand pushing through her body. There’s nothing to stop this doll from doing the same. It doesn’t though. It tilts its head considering her.

“Emotion clouds us,” Viktor says, “humanity’s greatest flaw,” his voice shifts and a female one Vi has heard a few times joins it, “she was so relieved you didn’t see.”

Vi’s hand grabs the first piece of metal she can. The thing reverses the grip, knocks her hands aside and picks her up by the jacket.

“How confident are you?” Vi challenges. The doll shifts it’s head, “you said you corrected emotions. But Caitlyn thought of me—“ she’s thinking on her feet, “take me to her and find out.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” the doll says, drawing her closer.

“You’re the scientist,” Vi says.

The doll considers her for a moment more and then she’s flying through the air. It’s hard to even get a breath in, let alone get her bearings. The doll takes her through the deserted city, past groups of the same dolls. Vi forces herself not to look at how fucking small some of them are. Kids. He did this to kids. He’ll do it to every kid in the world. The dolls occasionally glance over. Vi wonders if it’s Viktor looking or if some part of them remains who they were. The doll shoots across the Bridge of Progress and skids to a stop so she’s facing Zaun. The hand behind her neck tightens as the doll goes silent. Like someone has flicked a switch and turned it off. Something like hope churns in Vi’s gut. Maybe Viktor will be here to witness this experiment. Doubt flicks in the back of her mind but Vi shoves it away. Caitlyn did all of this for her. She’s not listening to any doubts. There’s a glow behind her and the doll rotates her so she watches Viktor descend. Any hope vanishes at the sight of him. He’s more machine than man, no sign of the person Vi thought would save her dad. When he floats over to her, there’s no heat on him.

“We have evolved past feelings,” he intones and the sound comes from him and the doll, “but sometimes we are drawn to the familiar. A weakness eased by time,” he says, “as are all things.”

“Where is she?” Vi questions, straining to hear any sound of Caitlyn.

“As I said, the familiar draws us. Even past feelings,” the doll turns her and deposits her on the ground.

Right by the pillar that was the memorial to her fucking parents.

You aren’t supposed to let them touch you. Now Vi sees why. That hand on the back of her neck has been in her head. She’s going to die right where her mom died. Funny because she always thought she’d die at home. But the bridge is as good as anywhere if she’s going to fucking die. Vi straightens her jacket and looks at Viktor, but his head is turned. The claw on his back tightens into a point and a flash of light emits, illuminating the dolls they zipped past. They stand on the bridge and VI can pick out the bronze on them. They’re much less gold than the doll that carried her here. Some of them are splattered with red. It takes a moment for her to realize these were all Enforcers. Or dressed like them anyway. Her stomach tightens as she sees one has his hand across his stomach, like he could be holding a shield. She forces herself not to think about whether or not that’s Loris. It probably is. They are all standing at the ready facing a doll whose back is towards them. Like it’s stopping the Enforcers from coming any closer.

Like it’s protecting her.

She can’t breathe as the truth hits her. Even before it registers this doll is taller than most. It rotates and Vi is gutted at the smoothness of it’s features. She thinks for a moment maybe she was wrong. But her eyes pick out the bulkiness of the doll’s right shoulder where Caitlyn always wore the most armor. Worse is the red on the hollow of her throat. It mirrors the red at the back of her neck. Caitlyn wasn’t just dying, Caitlyn was drowning in her own blood. And all she felt was relief Vi wasn’t there to see it. The doll behind her steps back and Vi realizes she’s about to watch Viktor speak through Caitlyn.

“Hang on don’t you want this to be authentic?” She says. Viktor looks at her, “see what she does without you.”

“We are one,” Viktor says.

“You sound pretty solo to me,” Vi challenges. Viktor’s head cocks to the side and Caitlyn follows, “let her do whatever you’re doing.”

“It won’t work,” Viktor replies.

“So what’s the harm?” Vi asks, “you said it yourself, the world has months. When are you going to get the chance to do this again?” Her heart thuds when Viktor doesn’t just shoot the idea down, “She did all of this for me,” she says, “how many times are you going to find an emotion like that?”

Viktor gives something that might be a shrug and settles himself against the side of the bridge. He looks almost relaxed. Only the fact that he can fly tells Vi pushing him off the bridge won’t fix this. She turns back to the Caitlyn doll. It’s still and frozen, head still cocked to the side. Like an off switch has been flicked. She looks at Viktor who regards her.

“Perhaps you were wrong,” he says.

“No I just need to get closer,” Vi retorts.

The doll helps her out with that.

It’s so much worse up close. How the fuck is this thing Caitlyn. But it is. Vi knows it is. She tilts her head to try and mimic how the doll is standing. She tries to think about the Caitlyn who lingers in the back of her head. The one who looked at her softly and didn’t bother to tell Vi she was an actual princess until there was no other choice. Who pleaded for her to stay and forgave Vi for leaving the first time. She clings to that image as she looks at the doll’s smooth face.

“Hey, Cupcake,” she says, “thanks for lending me your ship. Took me months to figure it out but you know,” she taps her head, “Loris said the doc’s told you I had a thick skull. Probably wouldn’t have figured it out for a few more months if it hadn’t happened.”

The twitch is so faint Vi thinks she might have imagined it.

“But once it did I figured it out,” she says, “the note was really sweet.”

Another twitch, this one unmistakable even before the doll’s head rotates forward and then up.

“Not me,” the doll wheezes.

Vi’s eyes flood with tears. Caitlyn can hide her feelings better than anyone she knows. She plays things close to the chest until she can’t anymore. Until they bubble over. In a kinder world, it would be love or something that made her do it. But it’s not. Anger gets her there. Anger makes Caitlyn speak even though some part of her thinks she’s still got destroyed vocal cords. But she speaks because Vi’s managed to annoy her. To put a dent in her brilliant but stupid plan. Vi tries to blink the tears away but a few break free. Caitlyn is closer, peering at her with those missing features.

“There was no note,” Caitlyn clarifies and her voice comes out stronger.

“So how’d I know it was you then?” Vi challenges, “or are you going to pretend it wasn’t?”

Caitlyn considers her quietly.

“How?”

“Come on Cupcake, take a guess.”

Caitlyn twitches.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, “it’s too late.”

“Nah it’s never too late,” Vi says, “come on, you know you want to know.”

Dread creeps though her as Caitlyn twitches again. Vi wants to see her face but there’s nothing there. She’s so used to seeing the way Caitlyn’s face shifts to let her know if something is getting through or not. Does Caitlyn even know she’s a doll? That Vi can’t see.

“Okay fine it was the carpets,” she says.

“I was thinking!” Caitlyn argues and then stops, “what?”

“They used the wrong glue in the hallway,” she says, “I found your Kiramman ones underneath.”

Caitlyn goes still. Panic hits Vi like a ton of bricks. Not seeing her expression is hard. She sees one of the other dolls twitch and moves before she can think. She grabs Caitlyn’s hand and touches it to her side. The doll jerks back.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Caitlyn says, “I didn’t want you here.”

“You got what you wanted,” Vi says, “now it’s my turn. Or is this just about you?” The doll is quiet, “come on Cupcake did you think about me at all?”

“Y-Y—“ the doll stutters and goes quiet. Then straightens and says in that overlapping voice, “Yes but it doesn’t matter."

Vi grabs the hand again and flattens Caitlyn’s palm over her side. The doll jerks like it’s fighting something. Vi puts her other hand there, holding it against her skin. The place where Caitlyn saved her. Features or not, she knows that means something. Viktor moves out of the corner of her eye and she feels the dolls fingers meld together. They flatten into something pointed and the path forward becomes horribly clear. The Caitlyn doll twitches, goes still and straightens, pulling it’s hand back.

“Your hypothesis was not proven,” Viktor and Caitlyn’s voices overlap, “we have evolved—“

The metal goes through her flesh as easily as it did in her dream.

It hurts way worse.

Vi sucks in a breath and looks down at the metal embedded in her gut. Her blood drips down the white cone as it goes deeper. Towards her heart. The cone twitches and shifts back into a hand. It wrestles a noise from her lips as her mouth fills with blood. Unlike her dream she spits it to the side this time. She’s not getting out of this. The doll looks down at her wound and curves it’s hand inside her body. Vi feels it in her ribs as it pulls her closer.

“You would strain the system,” Viktor says.

“I never wanted to be one of your stupid dolls,” Vi says. Fingers twitch again, “I just wanted to die at home,” she says, putting her hands on Caitlyn’s shoulders, “with someone who loves me.”

Viktor screams and Caitlyn’s voice takes over.

Vi watches Viktor stagger back, clutching at his head. All of the dolls collapse but Caitlyn cradles her so tightly Vi barely feels it. Or maybe that’s just the blood loss. Either way it barely seems to matter as she looks up. Caitlyn is gasping loudly, looking around like she isn’t certain where she is. Vi grips her arm and her head turns frantically towards her. A horrified sound escapes her lips. Vi smiles and tries not to think of how bloody her lips must be.

“Oh God, Vi,” she chokes out her name.

“S’okay,” Vi breathes, “I meant it,” she says, “I wanted to see you.”

“No, no—“ Caitlyn turns her head frantically.

“He said you went somewhere familiar,” Vi gasps, “I’d come here too. Where I came back,” she looks at Caitlyn, “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Vi, no, Jinx needs you,” Caitlyn pleads, her thumb stroking her cheek, “you could have months.”

“No,” Vi says as their airship appears. Dozens of blue stones clustered on it. Gods she hopes this works. Viktor is still clutching at his head, “just want you.”

“Why?!” Caitlyn cries and Vi smiles as the world takes on a fuzzy edge. She brushes her thumb across where Caitlyn’s lips should be. The doll can’t make tears but Caitlyn sobs all the same, “I thought I was protecting you.”

“You did,” Vi says, “but I want to be with you more.”

The flash is blinding but all Vi can see is the doll’s face. It doesn’t have lips but she pulls it closer as Caitlyn leans down. Deep in her chest Vi feels Caitlyn’s fingers find her heart. All Vi can think is they’re the lucky ones. Caitlyn's fingers close over her heart and Vi pulls her closer as the heat and light hit them both and take them.

****

Ekko waits hours before emerging after the blast.

He’s lived his life in four second increments for months. Lifetimes, if he’s being honest. With all the times he’s had to jerk back time. All the near misses, the almost deaths. The actual deaths. But he’s kept his people alive. That’s the only thing that fucking matters. It’s weird to even feel the breeze as he walks to the bridge. All of the dolls lay dead. Their strings cut. It’s hard to wrap his head around when he looks at them. They were people once. When he shifts one, nothing happens. They really are gone.

He makes his way towards the Bridge, where he thinks the blast may have come from. It’s confirmed when he looks at the gaping hole ripped through it. The blast is devastating and right though the center of the bridge. The Herald is nowhere to be seen, but Ekko thinks he might be at the bottom of the water. Or maybe he doesn’t exist anymore. They’ll have to figure that out. The dolls would come for him if he was still there. Ekko looks around for some kind of confirmation, but he doesn’t have to look long.

One of the dolls is cradling a person.

They’re well preserved considering the magnitude of the blast, thanks only to the doll that cradles them. The doll is collapsed over them, hiding their face. Ekko can see the doll’s hand buried in their side. Either they wanted to cause pain or to prevent it. But the way they are cradling the person makes him think it was the latter. He’s never seen a doll express anything like kindness, no matter who they used to be. It would be strange anywhere but he can’t help the feeling that it has something to do with the explosion.

“Is it over?” Scar asks him quietly.

“Yeah,” Ekko says, “I think we’re safe."

#caitvi #piltover's finest #caitlyn kiramman #vi #arcane #this one is v sad but was a fun challenge to figure out while also being very sad

24 notes · View notes

guksvault · 3 months ago

Text

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

08- XO/THE HOST

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. there, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew

w/c: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of alcohol & drugs, another HOB party, smut, fingering (f.), reader rides jks fingers oops, jk touches himself, praise if u squint, cops are back, readers parents are!! unhappy!! reader drug mule pt 2, joons bottle garden mention!

!minorsdni!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, landing squarely on Jungkook’s face and forcing his eyes open. He groaned, dragging a hand across his face before squinting at the phone still clutched in his hand. The screen lit up, and his stomach sank. Six hours.

He didn’t really remember what he’d said. His memory was patchy, a mix of loud music, too many shots, and your voice cutting through it all. He’d probably rambled, maybe said too much, but you stayed on the line anyway. That was the thing about you. You always stayed longer than you should.

His thumb immediately presses the call button, and he throws his phone to the side with a groan. Slowly, he rolls out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and forcing his feet to move toward the stairs. The smell of coffee hits him—he needs pain relief for his thumping head.

“You look like pure shit,” Joon muses from the kitchen, pushing a cup of coffee toward Jungkook.

“Fuckin’ feel like it, too.” Jungkook takes the cup, offering Joon a quiet thank you as he leans against the counter.

Yoongi enters the kitchen just as Joon leaves, muttering something about repotting one of his bottles that someone (definitely not Jungkook) knocked over last night.

“Fuck, you look like ass.” Yoongi laughs, ruffling Jungkook’s hair before pouring his own coffee.

Yoongi had developed quite the soft spot for Jungkook over the years. If you asked him, he’d probably tell you that Jeon Jungkook was larger than life, that the people he chose to surround himself with were lucky, and that, despite being an asshole most of the time, Jungkook was one of the most important people he’d ever meet.

Yoongi saw Jungkook for who he really was—underneath all the bullshit, the walls, the rules he built to protect his heart. At the end of it all, he was just a kid—a kid who needed love more than anything.

But Yoongi also knew the mask Jungkook wore: cold, heartless, unlovable. He knew it was all a defense—a way for Jungkook to shield himself from the world. And Yoongi knew that, because he’d seen the cracks in that facade: he’d heard Jungkook crying, soft and raw, on the anniversary of his mother’s death, or when he’d gotten too drunk and spilled his fears into the night, to the moon.

“How’s Bee? She comin’ tonight?” Yoongi mused from the other side of the kitchen, all a little too nonchalantly.

Jungkook froze for a second, caught off guard, “Huh?”

“Bee? Is she coming tonight?”

“Why would I fuckin’ know?” Jungkook’s eyes avoided Yoongi’s, felt a little nervous. Thinks maybe Yoongi doesn’t approve of Jungkook sleeping with his best friend.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Jungkook stands there awkwardly, glancing back at Yoongi like he’s grown three heads. “I mean—Huh?”

Yoongi shrugs, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Kook, chill. Unfortunately for me, your bedroom’s next to mine.” He pretends to shiver, making a dramatic gagging noise. “Don’t have to sneak her in and out, man.”

Yoongi taps Jungkook’s shoulder, offering him a brief smile as he turns to leave the kitchen. No words needed—his actions say it all. The pat, the smile, the quiet understanding. Be smart. Play nice. Have fun. I love you both.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It feels like an eternity until Jungkook finally spots you later that night at the House of Balloons.

You’re wearing a black mini dress that hugs your body just right, a leather jacket tossed over your arm, and platform boots with stockings—ones Jungkook has already decided he’ll be ripping off later.

You’re standing with Valerie, both of you throwing back shots and catching up. Valerie’s talking about her latest boytoy, while you fill her in on everything… except Jungkook.

There’s no real defense for not telling Valerie about Jungkook, but somehow, he’s become a subject that’s treaded lightly between the two of you. Every time you bring him up, Valerie changes the topic or seizes the chance to mock him, calling him a himbo or dickfaced twat.

Your eyes meet his across the room. He’s lounging in his usual spot, legs spread, hair falling messily over his face, and when his gaze locks with yours, you see him absentmindedly toy with his lip ring. He cocks his head toward the stairs, a silent invitation.

You glance at Valerie, her tongue tangled with some stranger’s, giving you an easy out. You slam the rest of your drink back, then make your way upstairs, into the familiar walls of Jungkook’s bedroom.

He follows behind, locking the door and immediately turning his focus on you. Sat so prettily on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with the rubix cube you had snaked off his desk.

He steps closer, standing right in front of you. “Hey, D.D.”

You glance up, watching him stand between your legs, his fingers brushing through the ends of your freshly chopped hair. “New look, huh?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, your fingers running through your hair. “I was drunk. And it’s practically therapy—crisis? Destroy your hair.”

Jungkook’s fingers pause, a slight frown crossing his face. “Crisis?” He squats down between your legs, his hands landing on your waist. “Husband didn’t do anything to you, right?”

You let out a small laugh, your hands brushing over his wrists, gently pushing them toward your thighs. “No. And stop calling him that.” You raise an eyebrow, your tone shifting slightly. “Not important. Just hair. Is that what you got me in here for, or?”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to your hands as you guide his between your thighs, his fingertips grazing just under the hem of your dress. They dig softly into your skin, and he opens his mouth to speak—but the words die on his tongue the moment he notices your legs inching apart.

When it hits him that underwear had been decided to be forgotten tonight, he curses under his breath, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to hold in the groan that wants to escape his throat.

“What the fuck, D.D.,” he mutters, his voice rough, hands sliding to push your thighs further apart. “You’re fuckin’ asking for trouble.”

His fingers hook around the hem of your dress, inching it higher over your hips, his breath catching as he takes in the sight of you.

He’s still kneeling between your legs, tongue wetting his lower lip again, breaths growing heavier as he stares at your cunt like he’s a kid in a candy store. Thinks he’s going insane, thinks you’re insane.

Your breaths fall into rhythm with his, and he hasn’t even touched you yet, but you’re already unravelling. The way he’s looking at you—eyes half-lidded, plump lips glossy from his tongue that keeps darting out to wet his lower lip, that half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—he looks at you with hunger, with pure desperation.

You press your palms into the mattress behind you, leaning back slightly as your hips roll forward, silently begging for any kind of friction. “Touch me?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, a soft, hushed curse escaping his lips before he drags his gaze back down to your core. He inches closer, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you watch him trail kisses down the soft skin of your thigh, inching closer to your centre. He pauses, pulling his head back just enough to let two fingers run slowly down your folds. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” he murmurs.

The tips of his two fingers tease at your entrance, gliding up and down softly as he coats them in your slick. “Fuck—Kook, please?” you whimper, the ache in your core almost unbearable. You need him to push his fingers in, to work them just the way you like.

Your hips grind upwards, pleading. “So desperate, D.D.,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. Then his fingers sink into you, all the way to the knuckle, without hesitation. You ask, you receive. Who is he to deny when you ask so nicely?

Your head falls back, and the string of curses and moans spilling from your lips is quickly becoming Jungkook’s favourite song. He should record it—maybe get Hoseok or Yoongi to sample it for one of their mixes. They’d be signed in no time, he’s sure of it.

Your hips roll against Jungkook’s fingers, desperate and needy, and it has him nearly drooling, watching you work yourself over his hand.

“Yeah, fuck yourself,” he mutters, eyes locking with yours. He gives you a small nod, “Can you do that for me, D.D?”

For a moment, your hips falter, a hint of shyness creeping in. But when Jungkook looks at you like that, like he always does, it’s impossible to resist. Slowly, your hips begin to roll again.

He watches as your hips grind against his fingers, eyes locked on his, lips parted with soft breaths leaving your mouth each time you sink down.

“So good, look at you. Doing so well.” His thumb presses against your clit, making it roll each time your hips grind down on his fingers.

Jungkook’s free hand has been pressing against his hardened cock ever since he saw your lack of underwear, and watching you fuck yourself on his fingers only has him dipping his hand into his pants to touch himself.

His hand pumps his cock, his own groans blending with yours. He watches your hips quicken as his fingers curl, pressing deeper into that sweet spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer, the way your walls tighten around him—he sees the furrow in your brows and hears the desperate whines of his name spilling from your lips.

“Ah–I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Your hips move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

“That’s it, D.D.” Jungkook’s voice is strained, his hand pumping faster around his cock, the sound of his breaths mixed with yours. “You’re doing so well, so pretty, baby.”

The words slip out before he can stop them, and for a moment, his chest tightens. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that. The frustration is instant, the thought of how stupid it sounds flickering in his mind. But there’s no time to dwell. You’re moving against his fingers, hips grinding down, and the heat between you both is undeniable.

He shifts, his thumb pressing firmer against your clit, feeling the way your body reacts, the way your walls tighten around his fingers. He can’t stop, doesn’t want to stop. The slip-up is there, hanging in the air, but he forces himself to focus on the feeling—on the way your breath catches, on the way you beg for more with your body.

His frustration turns inward, and with a sharp exhale, he focuses on pushing you closer to the edge. He wants to lose himself in the rhythm, in the way you’re coming apart on his fingers, and make himself forget the stupid words that fell out of his mouth.

Your eyes are locked on his, and he can see that you’re not mentioning it. You’ve noticed, but you’re not calling him out. Instead, you keep moving, letting the heat between you build.

It’s just one mistake. He won’t let it stop this. He won’t let it stop you.

“There, fuck—right there, Kook.” Your voice is breathless, your hips stuttering as you grind down on his fingers, desperate for more.

He’s lost in you again, will always be lost in you when you say his name like that. Like it’s a lifeline. His hand starts to pump his cock again, wanting to come undone with you.

But just as you both start to push against the edge, there’s a sudden, loud knock against Jungkook’s door. Neither of you acknowledge it at first, but when you hear Joon’s voice ring from the other side, you’re both frozen.

“Cops, man. Their fuckin’ back!”

Fuck.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s, and he’s already looking at you. His fingers are still stuffed inside you, hand still wrapped around his cock.

“Be down in a sec, gotta hide the fuckin’ bag,” Jungkook calls out, eyes locked on yours. He’s half tempted to say fuck it, let the cops knock his door down and see exactly how he’s got you right now.

Your hand comes to Jungkook’s wrist, regretfully pushing it from you and letting his fingers slide out. A whine from your lips, a groan from Jungkook’s.

You’re both on your feet now—you’re fixing your dress while he’s rummaging through his closet.

“The fuck are they doing here again?” you ask, the tension still thick in the air.

Jungkook shrugs, his voice low, “Had dramas with the street rager boys last week. They know if they snitch about drugs or some shit, they’ll be here in no time.” His grumble grows as his hands wrap around the backpack.

“I can take it again,” you offer, nodding at the bag.

Jungkook looks up at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “Are you sure?”

You nod firmly, reaching out to take the bag from his hands. He offers you a small, almost grateful smile, whispering a soft “thank you.”

“Go. I’ll let you know when you can bring it back.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next three days after sneaking out of the House of Balloons with Jungkook’s bag had passed in a blur. You’d thrown yourself into visiting your fellow socialite friends in Seoul, immersing yourself in their familiar world of idle luxury. Whether it was because you missed them or because you couldn’t bear the weight of your parents’ watchful presence, you didn’t care to figure out.

This morning was no different. Tuesday brunch, macarons arranged like jewels on silver trays, delicate cups of tea, and endless gossip. It almost felt as if nothing had changed at all—except for you.

The version of you they knew would have been at the centre of the chatter, laughing, throwing in sly comments, and keeping secrets. Now, you found yourself quiet.

Your parents had informed you before you left that dinner was set with the Kims and that no excuses would be tolerated. Fucking fantastic.

The click of your heels against the marble tiles echoed through the penthouse, breaking the heavy silence with every step.

“Is anyone home?” you asked, tossing a grape into your mouth as you slid onto one of the stools behind the kitchen island.

The housekeeper glanced at you briefly, pressing her lips into a thin line before gesturing towards the stairs, slightly hesitant.

Your eyes snap to your bedroom door at the top of the stairs, half ajar. “Fuck.” You nearly launch yourself off the stool and race up the steps.

Hands flat against the door, you push it open, breath hitching as the scene unfolds before you.

The closet doors are wide open, the black backpack you’d shoved to the back—hidden behind a row of designer bags—now emptied onto the floor. Pills, packets of coke, miniature bottles of alcohol.

And your mother.

She’s kneeling on the carpet, mascara smudged around her red-rimmed eyes, tears staining her cheeks. Her delicate fingers clutch a Ziploc bag of white powder, trembling as she turns to face you.

“Are you fucking serious?” Her voice cracks as she rises to her feet, hurling the bag at you. “This is why you’ve been so difficult? Because you’re a junkie?”

The bag hits your chest and drops to the floor, but you barely notice. Your eyes are wide, your words stumbling over each other. “Mum, stop! It’s not even fucking mine!”

She lets out a harsh, humorless laugh, the sound like a slap. “Not yours?” Her voice rises, shaking with fury and pain. “Your hair, the way you’ve been acting, your attitude—it all makes fucking sense!”

Her cold hands grip your shoulders, shaking you hard enough to make you stumble. Tears streak her face, her sobs uncontrolled. “Rehab. You’re going to rehab. Let’s see how long you last there!”

“Rehab?” You twist in her grip, panic flaring as your hands fly to her wrists. “Are you joking? They aren’t fucking mine!”

Your father steps into the room, his hand coming to rest on your mother’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest as she sobs uncontrollably. “You’re embarrassing us,” he mutters to you, voice low but sharp. His eyes meet yours, filled with ice. “Your mother is right. Perhaps treatment would benefit you.”

You laugh—a sharp, bitter sound that feels like it slices through the room. You shove past them, dropping to your knees as you begin cramming the spilled contents of the bag back inside, each motion rough and deliberate.

“Rehab?” you spit, shoving a plastic bag of pills into the backpack. “You think drugs are the reason I’m barely fucking here?” You stand, chest heaving, tears streaming down your face to match your mother’s. “Try living with two narcissists who want to marry me off for their own fucking benefit.”

“Enough,” your father snaps, his voice cold and final, as if that single word could stop the hurricane inside you.

“No, you want to talk about enough?” Your voice cracks. “You think that shit is normal? You think I’m the problem here? You guys have lost the fucking plot.” You hoist the bag higher onto your shoulder. “The drugs aren’t mine, but honestly? Could you blame me if they were?”

Your mother’s sobs grow louder, muffled against your father’s chest, and his face darkens with barely-contained rage.

“Out,” he says quietly, venom dripping from his voice. “Rehab, or get the fuck out of my house.”

For a moment, the room is silent except for your mother’s gasping cries. Your gaze locks on your father’s, and all you see is disapproval and disgust—the same look he’s always given you, only now a little more cruel.

“Perfect,” you mutter under your breath, your voice void of anything but exhaustion and anger. You swing the bag over your shoulder, stepping toward the door without so much as a backward glance.

As you grip the doorknob, his voice cuts through the air one last time.

“Don’t come back until you’re ready to help your family.”

You pause for a second, the weight of his words hanging in the air, but you don’t respond. You open the door, step outside, and slam it shut behind you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s not really a surprise to anyone that you’ve ended up squatting on the bricks that hold Joon’s bottle garden, a cigarette burning low between your fingers.

“Fuckin’ hell, Bee,” Yoongi mutters, exhaling his own plume of smoke into the cool night air. His eyes flick toward you, sharp but not unkind. “You know you can stay here, yeah? No questions asked.”

You manage a small smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe for a few days,” you mumble, taking another drag from your cigarette. “They haven’t cut me off yet, so I’ll figure something out. Get a place or something.”

Jungkook is standing at the sliding door, dressed in his work uniform, completely oblivious to the shitshow that is your life. He leans against the frame, knocking his head to the side—a silent invite to join him upstairs.

You stamp the cigarette out, blowing out one last drag. “Be back in a sec.” Standing, you tap Yoongi’s knee as you pass, earning a small nod from him.

The steps up to Jungkook’s room feel strangely familiar despite the chaos in your chest. When you push the door open, he’s already seated at the edge of his bed, shirt discarded, his eyes waiting for you.

“Didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” he says casually, though the tilt of his head suggests he’s been thinking about you all day.

“Me either.” You manage a small smile, sitting beside him before flopping onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, mirroring your position, though he props himself up on one elbow. His pinky brushes against your lip, gently moving the stray hairs caught in your gloss. “Miss me?”

You swat his hand away, scoffing playfully. “Yeah, missed you sooo much that I let my parents find your stash and kick me out.”

Jungkook freezes, his fingers hovering midair before falling back to his side. “Wait, what?”

You hum in response, your eyes are on the ceiling but you can see Jungkook’s expression drop, “D.D, fuck? I’m sor—“

“Don’t be.” You cut him off, he isn’t at fault. ““It’s not your fault. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out, and—well—here it is.”

Maybe there was a reason you hadn’t hidden the bag as deep in the back of your closet as you had before. Why you hadn’t bothered to fully cover it or lock your bedroom door this time. Like some part of you wanted the fallout to happen. Wanted to force yourself out of a life you’d been clinging to out of obligation.

You glance at Jungkook briefly, catching the guilt lingering in his features. “It’s my fuckin’ stash though, D.D.”

You sit up, turning to face him fully, frustration bubbling in your chest. “And? I took the bag. You didn’t force me to. I offered.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair, the weight of the past few hours hitting you all over again. “Okay?”

“Still, D.D, I shouldn’t have let you take it.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his guilt, and you can’t take it anymore. His voice—always so soothing, always so soft—feels like a chain around your chest, tightening with each apology. You don’t need his remorse. You don’t need his pity. You’re not some delicate thing that needs to be handled carefully. You’re tired of being treated like a mess that needs fixing.

Before you can even stop yourself, your hand is on the back of his neck, pulling his face toward yours. His eyes widen in surprise, but there’s no time for him to say anything. You crash your lips against his, not gently, but with a force that takes him by surprise.

He freezes for a moment, but then his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens. It’s messy and urgent, your frustration pouring out in the way your mouths move against each other. There’s no apology in this kiss—just raw need, the way your bodies crave each other without the need for words.

“Don’t need your pity. Just fuck me.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fic #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts

51 notes · View notes

lovelynim · 1 year ago

Text

That Time of The Year

Genshin Impact - Cyno x Tighnari (N$FW)

Also on AO3!

A/N: This ended up being different from what I first planned, but I still the final result. This all started with silly (but not so innocent) conversation between friends so... yeah.

Also, shoutout to Mia (@/ticklygiggles) for listening to my rant about these two and encouraging this fic. It's her fault, btw.

Summary: It's January, that time of the year... do you know what it means? ~

Word count: 4283 words

Warnings: This is a N$FW fic, with clear depictions of nudity and sex. Minors DNI!!!

Tighnari’s curled his tail around his leg, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tried to focus on something else. Anything else.

“Nari, are you s-”

“Y-yes- ahem, yes, I’m fine.” Tighnari repeated himself for the tenth time that night. He pressed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath as he tried to stop himself from having any weird ideas over Cyno’s… voice. Tighnari looked down to the pot in front of him, trying to distract himself by watching the water boil.

…

What a miserable state, he thought. He could hear Cyno sighing with concern and his fingers tapping on the table. His fingers?

Now that he thought about it, it reminded him of Cyno’s hands and how they were always gentle and- No! Tighnari shook his head, taking one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Letting Cyno in was a terrible idea, Tighnari told himself inside his mind, biting his thumb in a fruitless attempt to ease the “stress”. No, no, no… it’s fine, yes, totally. He just needed to drink some tea and get some sleep. Yes. just a nice and warm cup of Cyno and- Agh, no!

“Tighnari!”

The fennec opened his eyes wide and perked up his ears as Cyno’s voice finally reached him. Tighnari wasn’t sure for how long he had been daydreaming, but it should’ve been a while based on how troubled Cyno looked. “Sorry, I… ahm, dozed off for a second. You were saying?”

“The… pot, Nari. I think it’s-”

“Oh, right. Ahah…” Tighnari chuckled nervously, picking up the pot and pouring the water to finally brew his so-needed tea. As soon as the boiling water bathed the leaves, Tighnari took a deep breath, inhaling all the sweet scent. Yes, this was definitely going to help him. “If I knew you were coming over, I’d have prepared something else,” Tighnari said, back to his regular tone as he served Cyno a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

“You know there is no need,” the general replied to him, gently taking the cup in his hands before blowing some air to cool it off. “I just decided to check up on you because… you know, we are in that time of the year and you could…”

What was he saying, Tighnari asked himself, unable to keep paying attention to any other word. All he could focus on was how soft Cyno’s lips looked at that moment and how much he wanted to kiss him. With the steaming cup resting in front of him, Tighnari rested his head on his hand with a lost gaze on his eyes. Cyno’s voice was so distant that he could barely hear it, much less make some meaning out of whatever he was saying.

“You are doing it again,” Cyno muttered coldly, shaking his head in disapproval as he sipped from the cup.

When the scolding reached him, Tighnari nearly jumped out of his seat. “W-what? Doing what again? I’m not doing anything!” He protested, sounding as offended as possible.

Cyno blinked a few times with a puzzled look on his face. Tighnari sank his teeth into his lips, he knew he messed up his act this time.

“You’re… staring at me. A way more than a normal amount, if I may add.”

“So? Can’t I look at my partner?” Tighnari hissed, feeling the heat spreading across his face - which he tried to hide behind the cup as he pretended to drink the tea. Cyno chuckled and, archons, how Tighnari liked the sound of that. He could feel a shiver running up his spine, bad enough to make him flinch.

Tighnari watched with great care as Cyno placed his cup down and leaned forward, gazing back at him with half closed eyes. “Nari, you don’t have to… go through it alone. I can help you,” Cyno mumbled softly, reaching for Tighnari’s hands and holding them into his own.

Ugh… this was going to be a lot harder than he first expected it to be. “You don’t need to talk about it as if it is something important.” Tighnari looked down, embarrassed by the way Cyno addressed the matter.

During the beginning of the year, more specifically throughout January and February, the fennec foxes had their mating season: a time to find their partner, have kits and start a family. In Tighnari’s case, as he wasn’t an actual fennec fox, this time of the year just made him more… desperate.

He didn’t remember having trouble dealing with previous mating seasons, it was always something simple and that Tighnari could take care of by himself. But ever since Cyno came into his life, it became harder and harder to get rid of that needy feeling - nothing seemed to be… enough.

“It’s you I’m talking about and you are definitely important to me,” Cyno said, tightening the grip around Tighnari’s hands. Cyno knew very well what he was suggesting, all the pros and cons (was there any?) of his offer.

Tighnari averted his gaze, feeling the back of his throat going dry. To accept that was to admit that he was no better than a wild animal, that he couldn’t even fight some raw desires. He was better than that - he had taken care of it before and he knew he could do it again. He just… needed to find something else - of course, other than Cyno - to get himself going.

“I…” Tighnari started, wanting to play it cool and deny Cyno’s offer, but a part of him desperately wanted - craved - that offer. Tighnari could feel his tail wagging slightly at the idea of having sex with Cyno and he hated it.

He hated it because they already had sex before. Normal sex, sex that people that are not in heat have with their partners. Normal, regular sex and surely not what Tighnari’s body was craving right now.

To think about it, when was the last time they had it? There should be no harm in getting laid right now. Collei wasn’t home, Cyno seemed to be in the mood and-

Tighnari, no!

The forest guardian pulled his hands away from Cyno’s, covering his eyes and shaking his head. What kind of thoughts were those? That wasn’t like him at all! “S-sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cyno.”

Tighnari hurriedly picked up the cups - not even worrying to check if Cyno finished his tea or not - and took the sink with the rest of the dishes. If he had an act going on, it was surely a goner now.

“I-it’s different, Cyno, I will-”

“What will you do, my desert flower?” Cyno whispered, gently pressing his lips on the back of Tighnari’s ear as he hugged the forest watcher from behind. The sound that left Tighnari’s mouth could only be described as a shriek - a really loud one. Tighnari was so absorbed into his horny ideas that he didn’t notice when Cyno got so close to him. Tighnari pressed his fingers into the furniture in front of him, hard enough that would make those wooden pieces scream in pain if they could talk.

“I expected you to know me better,” Cyno continued, making Tighnari bit his inner lip as he tried to hold himself back from letting out any other embarrassing noise. One of Cyno’s hands traveled up to Tighnari’s chest, while the other gently rubbed circles of his stomach. “If I’m troubling you… just say the word and I will be miles away. Do you want me to go away, Nari?”

“N-no, I… I don’t…” Tighnari’s breath hitched, his hands trembling and butterflies swirling inside his stomach. His tail shyly wrapped itself around Cyno’s leg - almost as if to ask him to not go away. “But it’s different, Cyno. I would just use and-”

“Pfft…”

Tighnari stopped at the sound of Cyno’s chuckles - those low, composed and deep noises that made a shiver run up his spine. Tighnari gritted his teeth, slightly lowering his head in embarrassment as he felt himself getting hard at that sound. “D-don’t laugh, you don’t know how hard it is!”

“My desert flower, if you wanted to scare me…” Cyno mused, reaching for Tighnari’s waist before turning him around to, finally, be able to look him in the eyes. “You shouldn’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You- ugh…” Tighnari scrunched up his shoulders, placing both his hands at Cyno’s chest, ready to push the general away, to shove him out of his way.

But he didn’t.

His body refused to do so.

“Let me aid you, Nari. Please,” Cyno said, holding one of Tighnari’s wrists and lifting his hand high enough for him to be able to plant a kiss against Tighnari’s palm, “just this once, use me.”

“Use me.” Those words made Tighnari’s heart beat as fast as if it was about to explode out of his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words wouldn’t come out. It was like his mind went blank, completely wiped of any coherent thought.

“I will take as a yes, Nari,” Cyno grinned against the skin of Tighnari’s palm, pulling out his tongue to lick it from the middle to the spot between Tighnari’s middle and ring finger - a feeling that made Tighnari’s dick throb inside his pants, not to mention the lewd sight and the double meaning behind the act.

Tighnari leaned back slightly against the counter behind him, allowing Cyno to shorten the already small distance between their bodies. The forest watcher sighed - pleased, really pleased - when he felt Cyno’s lips against his neck. The fur of his tail stood on its ends as chills ran down straight to his loins, even making his knees shake slightly.

“C-Cyno, that- hmph… t-that tickles…” Tighnari pressed his eyes shut, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. Despite his protests, Cyno continued to play and tease Tighnari, taking small portions of that sensitive skin between his lips and marking it with his teeth or just sucking it to leave hiccups that had a deep, dark shade of red. “A-ah!”

“You dislike it when it tickles, Nari?” Cyno grinned, wrapping one arm around TIghnari’s back and making him press his body against his. His other hand, in the meanwhile, continued to travel down, meeting the base of Tighnari’s tail. “Should I stop?”

“Agh-ah… no, d-don’t stop it…”

“Even if it tickles?” Cyno smiled sweetly, using his fingers to gently massage that sweet spot, rubbing circles over the base of TIghnari’s spine, just above his tail.

“Eheven if… if it t-tickles,” Tighnari stuttered over his own words, a mess of moans, giggles and sighs coming out of his mouth. He dropped his head back while his arms rested around Cyno’s shoulders. Archons, that felt good.

Tighnari didn’t know what he should focus on: the kissing on his neck, the arm wrapped around his back or the fingers fiddling with his tail. Cyno definitely knew what he was doing and all Tighnari was able to do was to open his mouth and moan.

“You’re so pretty, Nari,” Cyno said, caressing Tighnari’s tail one last time before moving his hand down, sneaking it inside the back of Tighnari’s pants and firmly gripping his ass. “Let’s go to the room and- hmph! Hnngh…”

Before Cyno could finish, Tighnari grabbed him by the little clothing he had on top of his chest and pulled him closer, pressing one kiss after the other. Tighnari’s tongue invaded Cyno’s mouth, almost as if to forbid him from moving his head away. His mind was in a haze, the only thing occupying the room that once belonged to his thoughts was Cyno. His voice, his taste, his scent, his body, his everything.

After seconds that felt like eternity, Cyno managed to break their kiss. A strand of saliva still connected their mouths as both men wheezed, gasping for air. Cyno felt like he would’ve passed out from the lack of oxygen if that kissing any longer, but the hunger in Tighnari’s eyes showed him that just those seconds weren’t enough for him.

“No…” Tighnari gasped, still clinging onto Cyno’s clothes, “I want it now… let’s do it here.” He looked up, studying Cyno’s reactions to his commands and was pleasantly surprised when the man in front of him smiled, simply nodding to his request.

“Whatever you say, Nari,” Cyno continued to use one hand to keep fondling Tighnari's asscheek, squeezing it and even teasing the rim of his asshole by caressing it with two of his fingers. His other hand - with a bit of Tighnari’s help - worked to strip the forest watcher, railing up Tighnari’s shirt all the way up to his neck, from where the fennec fox himself pulled it out and tossed it aside.

Tighnari’s skin was smooth - even more than usual. His whole body felt like it was on fire and a beautiful faint shade of pink adorned his skin. Cyno couldn’t help but to notice that Tighnari’s smell was also a little sweeter - were all those effects of the mating season?

“W-what are you waiting for?” Tighnari’s desperate, needy voice broke into Cyno’s things. By the way he huffed, Cyno could tell he was growing impatient. How cute.

“Apologies, my desert flower, I just took a moment to admire how mesmerizing you are tonight…” Cyno mumbled softly, slowly pushing two fingers inside Tighnari’s ass, making his partner moan sweetly as he gently rubbed the fleshy walls that promptly squeezed his fingers.

Tighnari tightened the grip on Cyno’s clothes, his nails nearly piercing the cloth as pleasure started to run across his body. Cyno moved his hands, pulling his fingers a couple of inches back before pushing them inside again, going all the way until he could press and stimulate Tighnari’s prostate in a way that made him sob in pleasure. “A-ahh, more… C-Cyno, t-that’s not enough…”

“I know, Nari, but I’ll hurt you if we go too fast… Try to relax…” Cyno instructed, whispering those words straight into Tighnari’s ear, his lips gently blowing the air against the sensitive skin. However, despite his partner’s worries, all Tighnari could feel was the burning sensation on his lower body, desperately craving for more. “I told you, use me, Nari.”

Cyno chuckled sweetly as he placed his leg between Tighnari’s, pressing his thigh against his partner’s crotch and making a sharp gasp escape his lips. Tighnari promptly moved his hips, grinding against Cyno’s leg. That, combined with the fingers pressing on his behind, made Tighnari’s dick leak even more. He would hump his hips forward to get more of that sweet friction and on the moment he moved them back, Cyno would press his fingers inside TIghnari’s ass, stimulating the forest watcher from all sides.

“H-hng… but I-I want you…” Tighnari cried, feeling drool sliding from the corner of his lips as he savored that raw pleasure. Still, it was not enough. Even if it drew him closer to an orgasm, he knew it wouldn’t do the work to ease his needs.

“Of course, of course…” Cyno hummed, pulling his fingers out and reaching for the waistband of Tighnari’s pants, lowering them along with his underwear. “Then allow me, Nari…”

“Just… h-hurry, you big lummox…” Tighnari hissed, using all the last bits of self-control left in his body to stop moving, allowing Cyno to remove the rest of his clothes.

Taking a step back, the general Mahamatra dared to ‘waste’ a few seconds admiring this side of his partner he didn’t have the chance to meet before. Tighnari was a mess, but a hot one. Disheveled hair, skin covered in a beautiful shade of pink and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat and precum dripping for the tip of length. Archons, what a man, Cyno thought.

“I’m the luckiest man in Teyvat, my desert flower,” Cyno teased, starting to strip himself as well, making sure to put up a show to his partner. Tighnari, already too horny to just stand idly and wait, reached for his own cock, slowly stroking himself as he watched Cyno’s clothes come out one by one, using his palm to caress his tip and spread the drops of his seed over the rest of his dick, making it easier for him to stroke faster. “Am I really being this slow… or are you just really impatient?” Cyno grinned, holding Tighnari’s waist with both his hands as he approached his partner again.

“C-come do it yourself and find out, general,” Tighnari mumbled, his voice already a little hoarse.

“Was that a request or one of your smart answers, my desert flower?”

Tighnari sighed, lifting his right leg and wrapping it against Cyno’s now bare waist. The forest watcher placed his palms on the pecks of Cyno’s chest and rubbed his gently, moving his hands up to his shoulders and then intertwining his fingers behind Cyno’s neck. “I don’t know… maybe both.”

For a couple of seconds, silence engulfed them both. Cyno and Tighnari stared each other into their eyes, knowing very well they didn’t need words to understand each other at that moment.

With his hard cock already resting between Tighnari’s asscheeks, Cyno leaned forward and kissed the other man. The wet, sloppy sounds of the lips beginning to fill the room that was once quiet.

They kissed again, again and again, both men gasping deeply for air in the short moments of break, trying to not let their lungs run out of air. Tighnari wasn’t sure if it was the levels of oxygen on his brain going low or if it was another one of those stupid mating season’s effects, but the forest watcher found himself caught in a daze.

Tighnari’s dick continued to leak, his seed dirting Cyno’s body as they continued to make out. And, at last, Cyno skifully moved his hips, finally thrusting his dick inside Tighnari’s ass, making both men moan loudly into their kiss. Cyno pressed his eyes shut, not able to hold himself in place anymore and lowered his head, hurriedly trying to fill his lungs with air. Tighnari’s insides squeezed his length like they never did, catching the general by surprise.

“A-agh, N-Nari..! R-relax a bit… I can’t move l-like this…” Cyno whimpered, burying his face in the crook of Tighnari’s neck, licking over his collarbone before pressing his teeth into the soft, smooth skin.

But as Tighnari didn’t get the stimulation he so desperately craved for in the following seconds - which Cyno tried to use to grow accustomed - the forest watcher decided to take the matter into his own hands. Using his leg around Cyno’s waist to keep the general close to him, Tighnari began to swing his hips, pulling his body slightly up before letting it go down, allowing Cyno to push his hard dick all the way inside.

Finally, after days of daydreaming, Tighnari felt Cyno’s dick thrusting his ass, pressing his prostate as it moved in and out of his eyes. And, for the first time, Tighnari didn’t dislike being in heat: having give in to his raw desires made sex few better than it ever did. “A-ahh! Cyno, h-harder, hnngh!” TIghnari moaned, moving one of his hands to hug Cyno’s hang, pressing it against his neck while the other held on Cyno’s shoulder for Tighnari’s dear life.

Despite being a hot, moaning mess himself, Cyno still smiled. After covering Tighnari’s collarbone with hickeys, Cyno kissed his lover’s jaw. “Keep… calling my name, it’s so hot when you moan it like that, Nari…”

Cyno let go of TIghnari’s waist to move one of his hands before the leg wrapped around his body, hooking Tighnari’s leg to make it easier to fuck his ass. His other hand, in the meanwhile, continued to rest over Tighnari’s hips, helping the forest watcher to move and teasing him with squeezes and pinches that send a delicious ticklish feeling to Tighnari’s brain.

Tighnari threw his head to the side, feeling small droplets of water clinging to the corner of his eyes. Just like he was instructed, Tighnari moaned Cyno’s name one too many times. The combined feeling of lips pressing and playing with neck, fingers tickling and digging into his waist and a dick pounding into his ass was, indeed, an effective method to fight the mating season’s effects.

“A-Archons, ahhh!! ~ I-I’ll kill you if you st- ahn!!” Tighnari choked on his own sounds, unable to finish his words as Cyno seemed determined to actually fuck him senseless.

Yet, knowing Tighnari like no other did, Cyno knew very well what Tighnari was trying to say. The general smiled, kissing the other men’s lips. “You get even hotter when you threaten me, my desert flower.” Letting go off Tighnari’s hip, Cyno used his free hand and tightly wrapped his fingers around Tighnari’s dick, starting to stroke it in sync with his own thrusts.

Using Tighnari’s seed as some sort of lube, Cyno began to move his hand faster and faster, going all the way from the base to tip. As the pumping went on, Tighnari felt his leg going weak, his knee threatening to give in while a burning sensation swirled inside his loins and he knew he was getting close.

“Are you liking it, Nari?” Cyno gasped, his face barely inches away from Tighnari’s. Cyno moved his hand up a bit, giving the tip of Tighnari’s dick a special attention as he rubbed it with his palm, making the forest watcher let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Cyno chuckled, again. “I’ll take it as a yes.”

“H-hnng- just d-don’t- ahh! D-don’t stop!”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Cyno would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this needier and hornier side of Tighnari. He would also be lying if he said he wasn’t getting close himself, after all, Tighnari hadn’t stopped moving his hips for a single moment ever since Cyno first thrusted his dick inside his ass.

With thrust after thrust, Cyno continued to work for both men’s orgasm, with his partner clearly being the one that craved it the most. Exchanging looks for merely a couple of seconds - and with it being enough for them to understand each other - Tighnari leaned his head in, pressing his lips against Cyno’s and using both arms to support his body, wrapping them around his partner’s shoulders.

With Tighnari’s body weighing on him, Cyno pressed the forest watcher against the counter and pulled Tighnari’s other leg up from the ground. Groping at Tighnari’s thighs, Cyno now could handle his body as much as he wanted, pounding harder and thrusting deeper into Tighnari’s ass.

“T-this- angh!! C-Cyno!” Tighnari managed to utter in a short moment between his moans, feeling like his body was going to melt into a puddle at any given moment. Archons, he was so, so close! “H-hmph..! M-more, plehease!”

If the general was able to say something, he would be sure to whisper something sweet like ‘as you wish, Nari’ or ‘I’ll give you as much as you want, my desert flower,” but Cyno was too busy groaning and grunting, digging his fingers into Tighnari’s legs and pushing his length all the way inside him.

The oh-so-desired climax was right next to them, they just needed a tiny little push to reach it. Tighnari gritted his teeth, trying his best to not make the claw marks that he left at Cyno’s shoulders any worse.

And, finally, with a loud cry, it happened.

Tighnari tightened his legs around Cyno’s waist, pressing his ass against his partner’s lap as hard as he could as if to make that moment of bliss last as long as possible. A white, creamy and hot stream of seed shot up from his still-hard length, his cum splattering his and Cyno’s midriff while his eyes rolled back. Tighnari felt his whole body tensing, from the tip of his ears all the way down to his curled toes. Cyno had to dedicate some extra strength to hold the fennec in place, unable to help but to notice how the air barely made its way through Tighnari’s throat - a sight that rubbed his ego just right, almost as if patting him in the shoulder and saying ‘good job, Cyno, you did it’.

A strangled moan managed to break through Tighnari’s lips as the forest watcher came down from his high, wrapping his hands around Cyno’s neck as he tried to pull his upper body up. “S-sorry, hngh… I-I couldn’t hold it…” Tighnari whined softly in his embarrassment, feeling the ‘emptiness’ on his insides and quickly figuring out the meaning behind it.

“Hey,” Cyno smiled, resting his forehead against Tighnari’s once the man looked up to him, “I told you I was going to help you, so don’t feel bad for anything, Nari,” he muttered sweetly, gently kissing the tip of Tighnari’s nose.

“But do we… have to stop now?” Tighnari muttered, using the tip of his fingers to draw shapes on Cyno’s nape while his tail wagged mischievously behind his back. “I still…” Tighnari started, holding his lips next to Cyno’s ear as he whispered something.

Cyno gulped, a faint heat spreading across his face while his eyes widened. “Uh… s-sure, I- ahm, I can do that for you, Nari.”

The fennec grinned, slightly bearing his teeth as he tilted his head. “I can’t tell if you are scared or excited, general,” Tighnari teased, leaning in for a kiss.

“A mix of both, my desert flower,” Cyno whispered back with a nervous chuckle and followed the lead, pressing another deep kiss into those lips he loved and cherished with his whole heart.

There was still a long way until the end of February, after all.

#genshin impact #cyno #tighnari #cyno x tighnari #cynonari #spicy #n$fw #fanfic #i dont know what else should i add here lol #it feels so empty without the usual stuff #anyway #hope you enjoyed

126 notes · View notes

bks-writing-adventures · 8 months ago

Text

The Fish (Aemond Targaryen X OC, Sapphires and Carnelian Part Two.)

Read part one here!

https://www.tumblr.com/bks-writing-adventures/754389761267056640/sapphires-and-carneliansource=share

I also have this on Wattpad where I update almost every day, and you can find edits of the story on my tiktok: bk.calliope.

As the raven left with the letter, he found himself watching it until it was merely a black dot in the sky. He cursed beneath his breath. Could the raven not fly faster? It was like the creature didn’t even want to deliver the letter. As the bird dissolved into the clouds, his focus went back to the miniature in his hand. The more he looked at it, the more he could see beauty in her face. She did not have the sharp, neat look of ladies at the court, but something more charming, a bit more wild. And different was nice. He was different, so it would only make sense that his future wife be so, too.

Unless, of course, he was too late and the girl was already married. It had been several years afterall. And she was only five and ten in this photo, awkward with the touches of puberty and the expectations of society. He took a deep breath, and eventually, placed the picture down on his bedside table, scolding himself as he saw the marks his touch had left. The corners were crinkled from the weight of his sweating thumbs, and his cheeks got rosy as he blew on the parchment in hopes of evening it out. He couldn’t believe his own behavior, it was humiliating.

He knew it would probably be days before they received any letter, if they received one at all, and so he found himself going to the training yard. He looked over all the options for swords, and every single one of them seemed dull. The sun was doing the aged metal no favors, and they were far from luxurious. Where had royalty gone wrong? He had seen depictions of old gowns and garments, ones that were divine and godly. Sleeves used to puff, and head pieces were worn like treasure. It was like they were moving backwards. All of that wealth going to the garbage. When he got a wife, and surely he would, she would never look plain. He would cover her in the best of gowns, have her hair braided with flowers and gems. She would be a true Princess.

“My Prince, looking for a challenge, are you?” Ser Criston chuckled. Aemond looked back at him, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“If I was looking for a challenge, I would not be looking for you.” He responds. He had beaten Ser Criston time and time again, and sometimes he wondered what life would be if they were not just practicing. Perhaps, if he could, he would take Criston’s head clean off. He didn’t care much for the man, no matter how much he pretended. He was a man with no honor. One with loyalty to no one. He was no great knight, and he did not deserve his title, nor his cloak. He had broken his oaths time and time again, and it would not be long before someone suffered from his negligence. Constantly leaving his post to sleep with the Queen in the midst of the knight, rinsing his mouth of the taste of women. On his knees in the Sept, as though that washed away the lasting effects of his actions. That man could crush the whole realm to pieces, the way he crushed women like sand beneath his feet.

“Oh, is that so?” Ser Criston smiled, grabbing a sword. “Then we should ensure that you do not get rusty, like all those cocky knights before you,” He spoke, and the two men took their positions. “I am not like the men who came before me,” and for better or worse, the words were true. At least he was exactly who he claimed to be. He was not a bastard, and he was no hypocrite. And he would never be like his father, who married a child. And he would not be like his uncle, who whined and cried and created drama left and right. He would not be like his brother, who made every person miserable every time he opened his mouth.

He was not sure who he would be, only that he would not be them. Perhaps he could be a good husband, a good father. And he could pray to the gods to make him King. If only Aegon was not alive. He fought harder against Criston’s weapons as the thoughts swam around his brain. How easy it would be to find Aegon in his delusions, wrapped in women at the brothel. It would not be so difficult to slip milk of poppy into his wine. Just enough so that he would not wake up. How easy life could be, then.

But then of course, there was Rhaenyra, who his father loved more than anyone. But even that love was not pure. There was something dark inside his words. Something ingenuine, because the only thing a King can ever love, of course, was his crown. The thing must be cursed, for every time it touched the head of man, he became insufferable. Sitting on the iron throne filled the blood with ignorance. Maybe that is why the realm was spinning further and further into poverty and misery. With a final blow to Criston’s sword, the metal split in two, and the Knight smiled. “With those skills, you should be ready for a Tourney.” He said proudly, and Aemond tried to ignore how much it touched his heart. Hearing someone be proud of him, it was the finest luxury he had ever known. That validation that made his soul come alive.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” He said, taking a deep breath as he went to return his sword to the barrel. His wrist ached ever so slightly, and boredly, he cracked his knuckles.

“Perhaps you should. That is the easiest way for a fine man to catch the attentions of a fair lady,” Criston responded as he slid his sword back to his holder. With a smirk, Aemond looked back at him.

“Is that what happened to you?” He asked, making the knight go quiet.

“I am only saying that it is worth a try. If you wait any longer to marry, you were no longer be in your prime.” As if he knew anything about marriage. Aemond rolled his eyes, shaking his head with an empty laugh as he approached the gardens.

“If this is my prime, it will be a miserable life to live. I am not even twenty.” He responded. And besides, it was not like a mans seed could ever die. “And besides, I am already taking steps, for your information. And perhaps it would do you best to care about your own relationships. I am sure my mother would appreciate it.” He spoke, walking alone to the gardens. His book rested heavy in his cloak, and he walked until he found his favorite tree, a large willow older than himself. A robins nest sat in the depths of the branches, and as he sat to read, a ladybug ran across his book. His instinct was to smack it away from the parchment, but he held his breath. Helaena was always going on and on about the value of life, in things big and small. And guilt ate away at his belly, until he eventually took the bug on his fingertip and gave it a gentle blow of his breath, sending the small insect flying calmly to another tree. His head leaned against the bark as he propped himself up, his book in his lap. A History of Dragons. He had read it twice before, but what was the harm in reading it again? Besides, it was good to keep his knowledge fresh. And it was not as though a new book was going to come any time soon.

That was his only problem with the library. It was all too limited. The histories of Westeros, the Science of Dragons, the Philosophy of The Seven. All fine literature, but all old. All things said before, time and time again for centuries on end. The newest book was still thirty years old, at least, and there was not a single novel about romance or magic. No fiction, no escaping the present. It was exhausting. And so, he decided, that tonight would be the perfect time to take himself to the city, to the small bookstores and presses until he found something that would interest him. The evening meal was nothing special. Rosemary potatoes and pulled pork. It was good, but it was all the same as any other day. “Did you embroider a lot today, Helaena?” His mother asked, but her daughter was far more fascinated with the grooves in the table, looking at them over and over.

“I am excited,” She said quietly, and Alicent’s brows raised. That was a rare thing for Helaena, any form of happiness.

“You are? What for?” She asked quietly, and Aemond looked at her, too.

“For the fish.” She said quietly, a smile forming on her face. Alicent blinked, brows furrowed. As she was about to speak, Aegon opened his mouth.

“This isn’t fish, it’s pork. It’s pig,” He said, laughing as he shook his head and filled his mouth with wine. It was a miracle that his lips weren’t permanently stained with purple. Helaena hummed, her eyes wandering quietly. Alicent shifted uncomfortably in her chair, looking at all of her children with her big brown eyes.

“The weather was nice today. Did you get out to the gardens, Aemond?” She asked, and he nodded silently. Trying to create conversation at the table was like trying to turn water into wine.

“Yes. I read a great deal of pages.” He mumbles. Silence again. The sound of forks against plates echoed off the walls, and Aemond was itching to leave. It was a miracle when the dinner hour was finally done, and he went to his chambers in a hurried manner. Looking under his bed, he carefully picked out his sack of coins, looking at them under the light. Books were a luxury, especially amongst the common folk. But he was good at bargaining. It was quite the thrill. Taking two coppers and a single golden dragon, he grabbed his cloak and went to his washroom, making sure to pin all of his hair away from his face.

If the merchants caught glimpse of the silver wisps, he would be overcharged, he was sure. He was silent as he moved through the streets, his cloak pinned to the very top of his head. So long as he stayed away from the Streets of Silk, he was as good as invisible. The book stores were nothing fancy, a simple hole in the wall with an oil-filled lantern to keep it from getting too dark, bugs buzzing on the walls as he looked over the titles. He could not find a single shop that only sold books, for all of them sold a plethora of things. But this one, Books and Beads, was quickly becoming his favorite.

It had its own charms, figuratively and literally. Orange peels burned constantly with cinnamon, making the whole room smell like autumn, and his eye squinted as he traced over title over title. They were all things he had never heard of, unique with crooked cut parchment, and some still smelling of ink. Fresh copies. He flicked through the first few pages of a fairytale: A breakfast in the woods. It seemed fairly demonic in nature, going into the ideas of old fairytales and the old gods, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

Written with illustrations and brief poems, it didn’t make sense in the slightest. But it would give him something to do. He could fill a whole notebook with quotes, and perhaps he could add it some lines of his own. He would do that often, which is why he cut off his personal library to everyone else. They didn't need to know what he wrote in the margins. It was like therapy. Except, not as good, and it didn’t solve much. His eye continued to wander until he came across the most curious thing.

The Big Book of Sea and Sand. It was the only copy, and it looked as though it had been beaten with a hammer. It was full of drawings and diagrams of sea creatures that he couldn’t even be bothered to pronounce, and passages full of words he didn’t know existed. After a moment of pondering, he went to the counter, where an old woman resided. Her hair was gray and thin, and her head was covered with a crown of shells and wood. It was messy, and ugly, but pretty in a way that was both endearing and off putting. “Just these, please,” He said, holding up both of the books.

“Three silvers,” She said, her fingers trailing over the titles as she wrapped the hard covers in gritty paper. He scoffed, shaking his head and placing his hand down.

“They are not worth that much and you know it. That book looks as though it has been stomped on by a herd of filthy sheep,” He said, eye narrowed. He knew he could afford it, but there was a thrill in the bargain. And besides, if he walked out with a good deal, he would be able to buy more books with the same pocket. The woman raised her brows, her forehead wrinkling like the face of an old dog.

“But the knowledge is still worth three silvers. The covers may be ugly, but the value does not change,” She said, wrapping the stack in twine. He sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked down.

“Two books do not cost three silvers,” He mumbled.

“How about this. Two books, and one fine quill.” She spoke, holding up what seemed to be a peacock feather. It was large and extravagant, the fibers of the feathers shining with the colors of the deep sea, swirls of green and rich violet. “You have a deal,” He said, popping the three silver coins on the counter and pushing his package into the pocket of his cloak. As he moved for the exit, he walked past a bin as large as a wagon, full of glass beads. Some were humongous, while others were the size of a pin head. Small burlap sacks were placed next to the box, along with a sign.

A bag of beads for a copper. What was anyone to do with so many of them? Make bracelets for a whole kingdom? He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he left the shop, before an idea tickled his brain. What did women love more than money and flattery? Gifts. And what was better than a gift? Something handmade, with love. Slowly, he walked backwards until his feet were back on the wooden floor, and he didn’t bother looking as he filled up a burlap sack with two scoops of beads, glass and nut and wood.

“This, too.” He said, putting the copper down before the woman could respond. The night was growing old, and he did not care to be out when storms were brewing and sex was in the air. He groaned as he moved through the forest, the cold air lapping at his warm skin and nipping at his exposed ears. He could see the glow of candles gleaming in the windows of the maids quarters, and the silhouette of Helaena doing her nightly pacing. Perhaps she would like a bracelet, too. And he was very aware of how many beads he had purchased. Maybe one for his mother, as well.

Even though he knew that she would not wear it. His hands twitched as he dragged himself to his chambers. Whoever built the Keep had to be smoking something stronger than the Gods if they thought this place would be walkable. It took him half an hour to navigate in the darkness, until he finally collided with his bed, slapping his purchases down on his bedside table as exhaustion climbed up his spine. But he could not sleep just yet.

He would have to bathe, to wash the scent of the city off his skin. There was a constant smell of smoke and sweat in the air, and his shoes would need a wash too. He had no idea what he had stepped in that smelled so vile, and he wasn’t certain that he wanted to know what was in the mystery substance. He poured himself a cup of wine, running his bath until his mirror was coated with steam. His heart thumped as he stared at his reflection. He hardly ever had his mirrors uncovered, he often forgot what he looked like. It was easier this way. His eyes wandered down to his chest, covered in small bruises of love bites and knicks and scratches from training.

His hands were calloused from holding swords and reigns. He’d let himself be hardened like a diamond in the earth. With a sigh, he slowly sat in his bath, wincing from the heat as his skin flashed bright red like a boiling crab. He pulled the pins from his hair, letting it get covered in water, the artificially straight strands scrunching into their natural curls. How he hated it. It was too Hightower. It took away from his regal appearance, in his opinion, at least.

He only bathed every few days, and he knew the morning would be spent in his chair, hours of having a hot comb scraped across his scalp and ends. It would only last three days before his hair would get too heavy with grease and need another wash. His ankles rested on the edge of the tub, and he drank his wine until a splash spilled into the water, twirling like blood. He groaned, downing the rest of the cup before he finally washed himself, scratching his scalp with his nails as a mountain of shampoo grew on his skin.

The sun would be up soon, and just as the first touches of sun spread across the sky, his cheek hit his pillow. He knew it was close to noon when he heard the loud screeches of the birds and the maesters, and he groaned as he lifted his blankets over his head, burying his face in the plush. His hair was a mess of frizz all around him, like an unkept mane of a lion. A knock hit against his door, echoing off his wall. With a huff, he slowly sat up, pawing around for his eyepatch that had gone flying off in his slumber. It was upside down and hardly secured to his head when he called out, clearing his throat.

“Yes?” He calls out, waiting for a response. After two seconds, he rolled his eye, standing up and throwing on his long, heavy robe, swinging the door open, finding his knight. “Yes?” He repeated tiredly.

“Your mother requests your presence in her solar,” The guard responded. He didn’t understand why his mother could never come to his chambers to speak to him. It made him feel a certain way, one that he didn’t really understand. She frequently visited Helaena, and yet.. He was not worth the effort. He nodded quietly, thanking the knight before he rang his bell, summoning his maids. There were maids that were meant to help him dress, but he didn’t care much for people touching him, or seeing his bare body. Especially people that he would have to see around his home. It was an odd concept. And he liked the one that did his hair. She was quiet, and she didn’t expect anything. She would simply light a candle and heat the metal comb, wiping it on wet fabric until it sizzled.

“You could do well with a thinning.” She said. He didn’t respond, sitting still and biting down on his lip as the teeth of the comb bumped his skin. It took nearly an hour for all of his hair to be hot and straight, and the maid helped him to get the leather bands in, keeping it out of his face. “It is supposed to rain today. Do not go outside, or all of this will be in vain,” She spoke, and he nodded as she wrapped her supplies back up, slipping out the door. He dressed in his day clothes, which were not so different from the ones he wore to bed. A white undershirt that was hidden by the darkness of his doublet, a golden buckled belt resting on his hips.

Giving himself a glance in the mirror, he quickly corrected his eyepatch before heading out his door, heading to his mothers solar. She had learned very quickly that when she wanted to speak with him, it was best to send for him an hour earlier than she actually expected. He took longer than most princesses to prepare for his day, knocking on the door. When his mother opened the door, she looked bright and excited, like a puppy. His brows raised. He was not used to seeing his mother so enthusiastic, so unmasked. He smiled back, slowly, though he wasn’t sure why they were smiling. “We have a response,” She says, quickly going to her desk and holding up a letter. It didn’t look to be very long, and he carefully grabbed it in his hands.

Your Grace,

We are delighted that you have chosen to reach out to us. Luckily, Emberwyn still remains unwed and is almost a woman grown. While she is not overly fond of the idea of marriage, she would be willing to meet with your youngest son, Aemond. We would like to invite you and your son to our home on the 20th day of the Moon. We will provide a dinner of fish, clams, and crabs, and would love to have you stay as guests for the night. Our guest chambers have just been redone and are in great need of a break-in.

Lord Tully.

Aemond read the letter a few times over, just in case he misread anything. “The 20th day? Isn’t that in only four days?” He asks, brows scrunched. It would be a long journey by carriage, unless, of course, he went on dragonback. Which could go brilliantly, or lead to him horrifying the woman he hoped to court. “It is. It would do us well to start packing. And do your best not to say anything unsavory,” She spoke, waving to some maids, having them get her trunks. “Unsavory?” He repeats, staring down at her. It was hard for him to believe that he had been shorter than her, once. When he was 14, he had the biggest of growth spurts. For four moons straight, all he did was eat and sleep, and suddenly he was 6 feet and built like the statues in the Sept.

“It would not be proper to speak of the histories and philosophies. While I know you enjoy such topics, it is not appropriate to discuss at a lunch with a lady. Be sure to stick to simple topics that could not lead to arguing. The weather, the meal, her gown, your journey. And try your best not to speak of your swords,” She spoke, and as much as he would love to argue, he bit his tongue and nodded. He didn’t understand the rules of courting. What was the point of speaking on the passing of the clouds and the burning of the sun? It would tell nothing of his character, nor Emberwyn’s. And he did not want to marry a simpleton. She would have to have at least some interest in his hobbies, as he would in hers. If she had many hobbies. And he hoped that she did. A pit grew in his stomach as he watched the maids pack up his things. It was becoming too real.

The excitement of the letter was greater than this feeling. Of not knowing what would happen. But now that he knew he would actually be meeting her, face to face, he twisted in discomfort. He frowned as the maids packed his ugliest clothes. The coats that he hoped he would never have to wear in the public. He always found his formal clothes to be hideous. The high colors, the bright red, the gems. He only sighed to himself as he took his books and his bag of beads to the library, burying himself at a table between the shelves. They were like a protective wall around him. As he untied the twine that kept the packaging paper together, he was careful not to cut it or wrinkle it too much, stretching it out. It was as big as his wingspan, and he tried to get an idea of how short it would be.

As he cut it with his knife, he silently ridiculed himself. Why would a noble lady want a beaded mess crafted by his hands? He only got more agitated as he tried to get the tiny beads onto the material, his eye squinting. The end didn’t want to get into the hole. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath as he sucked the end of the twine, trying to get the end to be more narrow, trying to shove it through the hole once more. It took him perhaps an hour to get ten beads on teh twine, and he stared tiredly at it, setting it down. “Maeya,” He spoke, calling over one of the maids as the sweeped the library floor. She was quiet and chubby, a bit younger and shorter than him.

“Yes, my Prince?” She asked. She looked anxious, as if he were about to fire her on spot, despite the fact that he didn’t hold that authority. He always felt guilt in his belly whenever the maids reacted to him in such a way, perhaps afraid that he would treat them the same way that his brother did.

“Come here, please. Let me see your wrist,” He spoke, waving her over. After a moment of hesitance, she lifted the sleeves of her dirty gown. Her fingers were squishy and stumpy, and her skin held no jewlery. Based on what he was picturing in his mind, her and Emberwyn were probably the same size. “You are a woman. Or a girl. You are something.” He said awkwardly as he wrapped the twine around her wrist, pinching the material where the twine would wrap comfortably on her skin.

“...Thank you?” She mumbled, brows scurnched. She couldn’t tell where he was going with this, and her cheeks were getting a little pink. “You’re welcome.” He said, taking the twine back. “So- what do you know about women? Do you think a woman some years older than you would like something such as this?” He asked, holding up what he had so far. He was trying to copy a pattern from a book of traditional beading, but it was much too advanced for him to follow correctly. He was certain he had repeated the same step a few times.

“...I think a woman would,” She responded honestly. “It is not my taste. But it is the thought that counts.” She spoke. He nodded, fiddling with the jewlery in his hand. “I think these beads are prettier,” She says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a few shell beads. Some were clay, but she seemed to stay away from the glass ones.

“You like them more than the glass?” He asked, watching her nod. She slowly sat down, combing through the small spheres.

“I think that you should use a shell as the center piece. Who is this for?” She asked, taking the twine into her own hands. “A lady. A fine lady of Riverrun.” he said, a hint of pride in his tone. She hummed, turning the project in her hands a few times. “Well. For a lady of riverrun, perhaps she would like something with a natural look. Use the wood and the shells, and try to follow a zigzag knot for the closure,” She suggested, and he nodded as though he understood.

“A zigzag knot, of course,” he mumbles, sighing as she walked away. When he finally finished crafting the bracelet, it was time for his afternoon meal of a meat pie and eggs, and he ate as he leaned over one of his books.

“Posture,” Alicent reminded him softly, making him sigh as he straightened up. She was one of the only people that ever saw him act like a child. Hunched over, picking at his food, mumbling under his breath. And yet, he could never see the same from her. She had played her role so hard that she forgot her own little quirks. He just hoped that he would never live that way.

“Are you anxious?” She asked quietly, and he nodded as he set his book down.

“I am, of course. I do not like being away from home. And I do not like travelling by carriage,” He reminded her. The last time he had done so was before he lost his eye. Since then, he was not keen on travel. He preferred to stay home as much as he could.

“I know that. But this is only the first meeting. And once you both agree to a proper courtship, things will progress. Perhaps she could come here, or maybe she will even be interested in meeting Vhagar, but I cannot make any promises,” She responded, and he nodded as his eye wandered.

“Eat your food before it gets cold,” She spoke, and he chewed quietly. “Enjoy it while you can. In Riverrun, all they ever eat is fish. Disgusting.” She mumbled, sipping her tea. He fought the urge to scoff, leaning back in his seat.

“I hope you do not say that while we are in their home,” He said, and she laughed quietly against her cup.

“Of course not. I know better. Now, we have to leave in a day, so make sure that you have everything you wish to bring,” She said as she dug into her small bowl of fruit.

“In a day? I thought they were not expecting us for a few more nights?” He asked, to which she nodded.

“It is a long journey. It is best to leave early than arrive late.” She spoke, and that night, he slept in his bed as a single man for what he hoped to be the last time. For the next afternoon, he would be on his way to Riverrun.

Thank you to everyone who reads!!!

-BK ♡

#aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the draong #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #team black #team green #hotd aemond #emberwyn tully #aemond x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood

32 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 2 years ago

Text

history repeats itself ~ gwilym lee

word count: 2836

request?: yes!

“hey, i saw you wrote for Ben Hardy so I was wondering if you would write for Gwilym Lee? If not ignore this lol. I was thinking something like he meets the reader on set and they immediately hit it off, and the resemblance of her to Brian May’s wife is uncanny (let’s pretend he’s had just the one) and it’s kinda like a history repeats itself thing? idk if that made since. maybe Brian and Roger noticing and just being so amazed seeing that happening in front of them? thank you, and obviously since i have no explanation skills take complete control!”

description: when she gets cast to play the wife of a rock legend, everyone realizes how similar she and her on screen husband look to the originals

pairing: gwilym lee x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was such a small role, one that didn’t even have any lines. But to me, it was huge. It was a small role in a massive blockbuster movie: the Freddie Mercury biopic. It would be the biggest job of my career. Up until that point, I had only been an extra in a few sitcoms. Having a small, silent role as Brian May’s wife in a Freddie Mercury biopic may seem like a small step up from what I’m used to, but the scale of the movie made it a massive deal for me.

I wasn’t sure if I’d get the role. There were hundreds of other actresses just like me - desperate for even the smallest roles in such a big film - were lined up to meet the director and casting director. It was such a small chance of getting it I thought. Until I walked into the room and both of their eyes widened when they landed on me.

“Holy shit,” the casting director breathed. “She looks just like her.”

I was cast on the spot. I nearly sobbed in happiness. I managed to keep the tears in until I got to my car and could call my parents to give them the news.

A few months later, I was preparing for my day on set. It was a party scene that was taking place at Freddie’s mansion at the height of their career. The other band members - Brian, Roger, and John - were there with their wives/girlfriends. The scene mostly required us to sit by our assigned on-screen husbands while they conversed. It was an easy day, and it was only going to take one day of filming, but I was still nervous. I had already met up with the director and some of the cast involved in the scene, but today I was going to be meeting the main four actors and two members of Queen.

I was just finished with wardrobe and was on my way to hair and makeup when I came across one of the main actors, Gwilym. I had been told about him after being cast, since he was the one playing Brian May, but I hadn’t met him yet. I suddenly felt nervous as I approached the hair and makeup trailer, where Gwilym was stood outside the door also waiting. He looked up as he heard me approach and smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Gwilym. Nice to meet you.” He reached out and shook my hand. I hoped he couldn’t feel how my hands were shaking. “You’re playing Brian’s wife, right? Well, my wife I guess.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m getting all dolled up for my one day on set to film my one, dialogue-less scene.”

“Hey, there’s no such thing as small parts remember.”

I made a face at him. “You sound like my old theater teachers.”

Gwilym cringed. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want.”

I laughed. The door to the hair and makeup trailer opened and two other extras came out. The stylist greeted us and told us to come in. I sat in one chair while Gwilym sat in the one next to me. I watched the stylist grab a long, brunette wig and place it next to Gwilym.

“I’m gonna have to do Gwilym’s wig firs since that’ll take the longest,” she told me. “So, sit tight, and try not to mess up your wardrobe too much.”

I nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

I watched the process of applying Gwilym’s wig. It really did take a long time. First, a bald cap had to be applied to Gwilym’s head. Then, the wig was placed on his head in a few different ways to figure out the best placement. Once that was figured out, the wig had to be pinned down in a way that made it look natural on his head, and not like a wig.

“So,” Gwilym said, trying his best not to move his head. “Since we’re going to be here a while, and since we’re playing a married couple, I suppose we should get to know one another.”

“Sure,” I said with a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“Is this your first movie?”

“It is. Until now I was just an extra in a few sitcoms. I had one line once, that’s the extent of my career.”

“Well, extras are important. Without them, a scene would look so stupid if it was just the main characters.”

I shrugged. “I know that, and I know every actor has to start somewhere, but I’ve been doing this for roughly five years. Performing Arts schools are expensive and I sometimes worry I made a mistake persuing acting.”

I saw Gwilym’s eyes quickly look over at me before looking back at the mirror in front of him. “It’s never a mistake to chase your dreams. It just takes time. You have to play the small parts in order to get experience for the big ones.”

“You’re right. It’s just taking so long. But I’m here now, so that’s a step up.” I shook my head. “Anyways, away from my career insecurities. Tell me a bit about you.”

We talked throughout his wig applying process. We exchanged embarrassing childhood stories, talked about how we got into acting, general details about one another. I had forgotten about the fact that I was waiting to have my own hair and makeup done by the time Gwilym stood from his chair.

He looked at himself in the mirror before turning to me. “How do I look?”

I tilted my head as I looked up at him. “Scarily like Brian May.”

He chuckled. “That’s good, then. They won’t fire me anytime soon. I’ll see you on set?”

I nodded and watched him go. I felt a little disappointed by the fact that he was leaving. I had really enjoyed talking to him. The next time I’d see him would be on set for the scene, where we wouldn’t be able to talk, and then once that ended I’d never see him again.

The stylist started going my hair and makeup. She showed me a picture of Brian and his wife in the early 80s, which was when the scene was set, as the inspiration for my look in the scene. It was subtle, but it was clearly 80s. It didn’t take as long as Gwilym’s had, and soon enough, I was on my way again.

I stepped out of the trailer just as Gwilym was walking up again. He was now in his costume, looking so much like a young Brian May that it was scary.

“Right on time,” he said. “I was coming back to walk you to set.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said, but I was touched by the offer.

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, so I am.” He offered an arm to me, like a gentleman. I took it and we started walking to set. “Besides, it’s a big scene with a lot of people. It might be nerve wracking to walk on set by yourself with all those people.”

“It is. Especially with meeting the rest of the main cast at the same time.”

“Oh, they’re all a bunch of wankers, you don’t have to worry about meeting them.”

I giggled. “You can’t say that about Brian May and Roger Taylor, though. And they’re going to be on set, too.”

“No, you’re right. But they are very kind. You don’t have to worry about meeting them. I’m sure everyone will like you. Even if they didn’t, who cares? You won’t have to see them again after today.”

He had a point, but it was still sad to hear out loud. I had been preparing for this day for so long, excited for my first big project. And now, within a matter of hours, it would all be over. I’d be sent back home, waiting for the next role to come up, hoping that maybe this movie could help with that role being a bigger one than just an extra. Back to my normal, boring life.

Saying goodbye to Gwilym.

I had managed to shock myself with that thought. I had only known Gwilym for maybe an hour and a half, but the thought of only having this day with him brought on a bit of sadness. He was so kind, and he seemed so genuine. I had never been on a set where the main actors even acknowledged that the extras existed, let alone be nice enough to walk one to set after talking to her for some time.

Not to mention he was extremely handsome. Especially when he smiled, like he was smiling at me now.

God, don’t develop a crush on the guy you’ll never see again after today.

My heart rate jumped the second we walked on to set. Gwilym wasn’t lying when he said there was going to be a lot of people in the scene. The mansion set was packed with people, so full that there was just barely enough room to move around. I was hoping this was the only amount of extras that were set to be in the scene, or else I think my nerves would go into over drive.

The director spotted Gwilym and I almost immediately and led us over to where we were set to be for the scene. Rami, Joseph, and Ben were already sat around having a laugh as we walked up. They happily greeted Gwilym, and he then introduced me to the lot of them. They were very nice and welcomed me in almost immediately, but it was still pretty surreal to be there with them. Especially Joseph, who I had seen in Jurassic Park when I was just a kid. I almost felt out of place there, but I could tell I wasn’t alone. I introduced myself to the other girls who were playing Ben and Joseph’s on screen love interests, who also looked just as out of place as I felt.

We were all sat around together when the buzz in the room suddenly turned into a hush. It wasn’t hard to know what had just happened: they had arrived.

Brian May and Roger Taylor themselves.

Rock and roll royalty.

I looked over and my heart leapt into my throat at the sight of them. It was hard to believe that they were actually real. I had been listening to Queen’s music all my life, but it wasn’t until this moment that I truly realized that these legends were actual real people.

Actual real people who were walking towards us.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my arm. I looked over to see that it was Gwilym’s hand. When I looked at him, he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back, the nervousness in my stomach being replaced with butterflies. His hand moved down my arm and squeezed my own. I squeezed his hand back.

“My God.”

I looked up to see Brian and Roger stood over us. I tried to put on my best smile, hoping it wasn’t as obvious as I felt it was that I was shaking. Brian was looking between Gwilym and I, a look in his eye that I couldn’t quite place. Reminiscent, maybe?

“They did a spot on job casting for this movie,” Brian commented. “It feels like I’m looking into a mirror with you two.”

“If there mirror were about 50 years younger,” Roger teased.

“You speak from experience, don’t you old man?” Brian retorted. I couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter. Years of friendship and knowing one another, and they were still cracking jokes and poking fun. I hoped to be like them with my friends when I got older. “What’s your name, love?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. In fact, there was nothing going on in my head at all. It was like I had completely forgotten every little thing I had ever learned in my life. How does one continue to function after Brian May calls them “love”?

“This is (Y/N),” Gwilym said, saving me from my colossal choke.

“Yes,” I finally managed. “Sorry, my name is (Y/N). I’m a little nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, darling,” Brian said. “You already have the look of my wife down. And it seems you and young Gwilym here have already gotten quite acquainted.”

I didn’t realize that Gwilym and I were still holding hands. I expected him to let go at that moment, as if he were just realizing as well, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept hold of my hand, giving it another reassuring squeeze. I wondered if the blush on my face was noticeable under the makeup.

The director called for places, so Brian and Roger took their places off set. I let out a sigh of relief after they were gone and moved into place with Gwilym.

“See?” he whispered to me as we were passed glasses of fake champagne. “They’re not that bad.”

“Their presence alone is a little terrifying,” I whispered back.

“But you got through it. Seems Brian’s taken a liking to you. Although, that’s not surprisingly considering how lovely you are.”

I was convinced this was all some sort of very long, very detailed dream. I was going to wake up at any given moment.

The scene went by very smoothly. It wasn’t hard to just look between the boys as they spoke, smiling when I was supposed to smile, offering a sour look when Rami arrived, acting as a rather rude Freddie. It felt like Gwilym was moving closer to me with each take that we did. First we started off sitting in separate chairs, until the director asked if we would switch and sit in the couch that Joseph and his lady friend had been sat in. Gwilym had moved towards me at the start of that take, and by the final take of the day our bodies were touching and his arm was around me. I was glad I didn’t have any lines, or else I would’ve likely forgotten every single one of them.

When the director called cut and said it was a wrap on the scene, I tried not to let my sadness show. The extras started to file out of the room, going to get read for a different scene that they were filling for. Not me, though. I was going to wardrobe to get my outfit taken back, and then I was going home. If I was lucky, I would be invited to the premiere, otherwise I would never see any of these people again.

I wouldn’t see Gwilym again.

Ben, Joseph, and Rami were kind enough to give me a hug and tell me they were happy to have met me. I told them likewise and started my way back to the wardrobe trailer.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

I turned to see Gwilym rushing up towards me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your next scene?” I asked him.

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you before you left,” he said. “Look, I know this is a bit presumptive to ask because we only really spoke to one another for that time in hair and makeup, and I have no idea if you’re even single so maybe I’m about to make an ass out of myself, but I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out this evening once I’ve finished on set.”

Everything in my brain? Gone.

Every last bit of it.

Gone.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. It had to be a dream, right? There was no way it was real. I would’ve pinched myself if it wouldn’t have made me look like a total idiot in front of Gwilym.

“Yes,” I said. “ I mean, yeah, sure, I - I would love that.”

His face lit up. “Yeah? Okay. Here, let me give you my number.”

We both realized we didn’t have our phones, so we had to do it the old fashioned way - Gwilym found a pen and paper, and wrote down his number for me. I took the paper and shoved it into my pocket.

“I’ll text you once I’m no longer part of the 80s,” I said, gesturing towards my outfit.

He chuckled. “And I’ll do the same.”

We both stood, just looking at each other for a moment. It wasn’t until Gwilym was called back to set that we finally, reluctantly, broke away to go out separate ways. I put my hand in my pocket and closed it around the piece of paper containing Gwilym’s number. I smiled to myself, having to restrain myself from skipping happily towards wardrobe.

I guess history really does repeat itself, I thought with a laugh.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x reader #imagine #one shot #request #bohemian rhapsody #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

137 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Text

June - Part Seven

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst, but also a whole lot of love to be had

.............................................

All houses dream in blueprints

Our house dreams so hard

Outside you can see my shoeprints

I've been dreaming in your yard

"Pretty Eyes" by Silver Jews

............................................

Strange. Something from the past that shouldn’t fit into the present. Holidays, what use does this world have for holidays? But Tommy asked and Maria insisted and Ellie agreed and June did too. So he’s here in his brother’s house and she’s tucked under his arm and everyone’s playing pretend for the night.

His mind swirls with it. What could have been in some other fold of time. A house with a yard and a swingset and maybe a dog. A house with a minivan parked out front and a family inside. And hers is there and his is there too. And theirs, there’s theirs. Tiny palms pressed to pants legs and eyes that are hers and ears that are his. Theirs, theirs, theirs. Pearls around her neck and a tie around his and hands clasped around a table. And it’s such a sweet, stupid vision he has to blink it away before it starts to smart.

Pie. It’s the end of the world and there’s pie. And timid conversation. Everyone being careful of her, for her, even though she’s bright, polite, taking all of it in stride.

It’s only been a–

Since she–

But she’s doing so–

And she’s here, with him. In a dark green dress that she traded for. He’s never seen her in a dress before.

“Thank you for inviting me.” She nods to Tommy and Maria both. They smile.

“Of course, June. We wanted everyone here for Thanksgiving.” Kind and warm, Tommy ever the diplomat. To be wrapped into whatever everyone means seems to startle her, a tight squeeze to his hand under the table. She hasn’t touched her perfect piece of pie. He hasn’t touched his either.

It’s hard to look away. That clear amalgamation of Tommy and Maria, gummy smiles and contented babbling. Tiny, tiny, tiny. It makes his chest ache. And judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances, something similar is settling in her as well.

…

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good.”

“I heard what happened.”

“Don’t.”

“It ain’t right, Joel.”

“Don’t, Tommy.”

“I wasn’t going to. I’m just saying.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You look good together. Well.” He doesn’t get a chance to ask him what that means because the front door is opening and everyone else is spilling out onto the porch to say goodnight, quick cordial thank yous and goodbyes.

…

“This is weird.”

“Hmm.” Tupperware. Where the hell did they get tupperware from? It sits on the kitchen counter between them. Two perfect pieces of pie in plastic. Dark, dark, dark outside. Close and quiet. She wordlessly pulls a fork out of a drawer, offers it to him, the first bite. He holds the container between them, leaning against the counter, curled over two perfect pieces of pie in plastic. Back and forth, back and forth, mottled silver passed between their hands. Sharing sweetness they didn’t want to show to anyone else.

It’s good. Of course it’s good. Butter and flour and sweet, sweet, sweet. A low hum in both their throats as they finish off two perfect pieces of pie in plastic, hunched over each other in the hazy light of the kitchen.

“Good?”

“Hmm.”

“You looked nice tonight.” Thumb and forefinger slipped along the sleeve of her dress.

“Thank you.” Palm smoothing under the collar of his shirt.

“Tired?” Her eyes drop, an answer in itself.

“Their boy is so small.”

“He is.”

“Sweet.”

“Let’s go to bed, June.”

He whispers it into her hair, her face burrowed into the warmth of his neck, hands tucked up under his shirt. A name he refuses to say to most. A name that stings. And she does the same, neck arching to put her mouth to his good ear. Two names that they tuck away, hold onto for each other.

…

“Well?”

“Clean bill.” Relief unfurls in his chest. He tucks her into it, wants her to feel it too. Quick, before stepping out of the clinic.

They’ve been making sure that her heart doesn’t–

“There’s a hole in your jacket.”

“What?” Her fingers wriggle against his side, the split seam.

“I can fix it for you.”

She’s good with her hands. Deft, meticulous, in all sorts of ways. He likes to watch her work. Peeling his jacket from him the instant they get home. So, so focused with a slip of thread and a needle. Knees brushing, turned toward each other on the couch. There’s a caution to the way they’re moving around each other. Careful, quiet, not wanting to harm or hurry. Not wanting to spook, not after–

“How are you?” Hands stutter stop, though her eyes stay stilled on the task. Stupid question, stupid, stupid, stupid.

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Well how should I be?” Blink and miss it, the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Relief to get her like this. Just kidding like this.

“Fine is good.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” Split, stretch, bright, bright, bright. A smile that crinkles up and up, warmth crackling in his chest.

“How’s that look?” A clean stitch, lines of thread tight and neat along the seam.

“Perfect, June. Thank you for fixing it.”

“Of course, Joel.”

…

Silvery, just like his. Puckered and arced, just like his. How much time has changed it. How he’s seen all of it.

“Does yours hurt from the cold?”

“Yeah, does yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Thumbs held steady over each other’s. Soft sweeps along temples. This thing that joins them, shared and separate at the same time.

“Can I ask you something?” “Of course, June.”

“What did you think that night? When you saw me.”

“I’m not sure I was thinking anything.”

“I was so angry at you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

It’s snowing, the soft shadows of it falling over the bed, her face. He wakes up most mornings soaked in sweat from all the blankets she sleeps with now that winter is snapping at fall’s heels. He doesn’t really mind.

…

For once, she’s home before he is. In the kitchen, moving light.

“What’s this?”

“I wanted to.” Fingers flickering fast and free, ribboning peels that wink red on the counter. She works easy, certain, the push and pull of her knuckles in dough. Buttery strips of it braided over the top, painfully purposeless, pretty. Proof, though what she’s proving he isn’t sure. And the whole kitchen washes away in the warmth of it, bubbling up golden and brown.

“For tonight. When Ellie and Dina come.” “Okay.”

“What do you think?”

“It looks good, June. You didn’t have to.”

“I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“I just wanted to make something.” Her palm hiding her mouth, a murmured afterthought.

“Something good.”

A bit stiff when they all sit down for dinner. Ellie with hers on one side and Joel with his on the other. But she surprises him with smooth, steadying conversation. He knows she and Ellie have been on patrol together a handful of times, and their comfort with each other is clear. The night relaxes around them. His arm slung easy over the back of her chair, something big and bright settling in his chest watching Dina watching Ellie. She’s okay. This is good, good, good.

“Holy fuck this is good.” “Ellie.”

“Sorry, it is.” He has to hide his smile, because in the corner of his eye he can see her beaming next to him at the kid’s words. Perfect pieces on plates. Soft smiles around syrupy sweetness. She thumbs away a shard of crust from his lip, so easy in how she reaches for him. And it is good, better, he thinks.

They send them out into the night, a tupperware of leftovers between them. He goes dizzy with how normal it all feels. Hip to hip in the kitchen, she washes, he dries. Another life, another world. This all the time.

“Dina seems nice.”

“She does.”

“Are you happy for Ellie?” “I think so.”

“Hmm.” That little sound of hers makes him smile with how familiar it’s become. But then his eyes catch on her forearm, bare beneath the rucked-up sleeve of her sweater. That jagged line of flesh. Whatever normal is, they will never touch it. He knows that. He must. His want for her is enough for him to swallow this truth, only a little bitter surrounded by all this sweetness.

“Good day?” A better question than how are you, he’s learned. The curve of her smile caught quick in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Yeah, it was. You?”

“Really good.” Her eyebrow crooks, a hooked turn toward him.

“What made it really good?”

“This. You.” They’re both not very good at it. He feels like a fool offering it and she shies away from receiving it. A slow thaw for each of them. But he keeps trying, and so does she.

“I like hearing that.”

“It’s true.” A smile, a shake of her head. But no recoil, her hip still snug against his as they finish the dishes. He’ll take it. All of it.

In another world, another life, her hands are soft and smooth and she wears blue nail polish because it’s her favorite color. And her painted fingernails work the knot of his tie out, quiet smiles because everyone else is sleeping. And he unclasps the pearls from around her neck, lays them on their nightstand next to a pamphlet about summer camp because theirs are old enough to go this year. And he lays her out on their bed with hands that have never touched blood that didn’t come from a scraped knee. And it’s simple, so, so simple. Fingers tangled, the light glint of their rings.

In this world, her hands are as worn and calloused as his, the rough drag making him shiver. No rings. And there is no tie, only the buttons of his flannel that she restitched last week to keep them from falling off. And there are no pearls, only the high neck of her sweater that he noses down to press his mouth to the hollow of her throat. And these are bodies that have known violence, and they move like it, always careful, always questioning, always stifling back snarls. And there is no one else. Only them. So they do not have to be quiet and they do not have to close doors and he can coax her up onto the counter and drop to his knees right there in the kitchen.

“Joel.” But that would be the same. The sound of his name breaking in her chest. The taste of her. The splay of his palms over the jumping muscles of her thighs. The pull of her hand in his hair, that plea to come closer when it all turns too much. The stutter of his heart when his hips press against hers. That warmth, her warmth, her breath against his mouth. Everything, everything, everything.

“June.” And that would be the same too. The sound of her name thrumming up his throat. A plea, a prayer, that perfect piece of his unraveling. She would be his undoing in any world and he knows it.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Breathless, on a laugh. Her words thrumming where his forehead is pressed to her chest. Shrapnel around them, dishes shattered on the ground. Her sweater hanging off the curve of the sink. The mess they made, proof perfect.

He’d like to say something sweet, or clever even. But looking at her, the bright of her grin matching his, all he can do is laugh a little harder as she shakes her head at him.

They leave the mess. They’ll get it in the morning. Right now, it’s snowing outside, close and still. And they seek each other out in the quiet. He’s used to it by now. The slip of socked feet against his ankles, her silent search for warmth. Something he can give her, easy, simple, without question.

“June?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m glad that I was out there that night.” A long sigh, the fall of her ribs under his palm.

“I am too.”

........................

taglist: @thetriumphantpanda @suzmagine @casa-boiardi @hollywoodcaligirl @kelp-dreaming @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @tieronecrush @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @darkroastjoel @sarahhxx03 @ambassadortotrilliusprime @northernbluess

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #june

114 notes · View notes

abigailmoment · 1 year ago

Text

Astarion frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mn." Tav shook her head and the expression smoothed away as she looked up at him. "The wine may be off."

"No. It's trash, but it's fine," he told her. "Why are you upset?"

She paused in that way she sometimes did in conversations--like she was deliberating between options and deciding which one would best suit her goals. It was often the precursor for amusement when she did it to other people, but it was irritating when she did it with him.

"It's feelings," she said, as if she were warning him.

Astarion shrugged. "So? You only talk about feelings with druids? Pretend I'm Halsin. I could stand on top of a chair if it would help."

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

"Naive am I?" Tav asked, her eyebrows raised so high up that they were in danger of crowding her horn-stubs.

"It's just that you have a...big heart," Astarion said tactfully. "You like doing what's right."

Which was just a different way of saying naive. The woman was physically incapable of walking past a sob story without interfering with it in some way. It was the most absurd way to live life. She'd be intolerable if all her other energies weren't devoted to the far more admirable dual purposes of making money and having fun.

Case in point, they'd just finished ransacking the Last Light Inn for every bottle of wine the imp-children weren't supervising. Now they were on the second floor, sitting at one of the less-cobwebbed tables. They were sharing a bottle of Plum Fizz, which was utter garbage. They'd chosen that one because the others were nice years that might be sold well, and also Tav hadn't believed him about what utter garbage the stuff was.

Astarion had stirred his latest donation into his cup, and it made the vintage borderline palatable. Though privately he thought Wyll would pair much more nicely with elderberry wine.

"So I was thinking," he continued. "What would be the right thing to do when we get to Moonrise towers? When we come face to face with whoever's controlling the parasites?"

"I'm guessing you have an opinion," Tav observed, leaning back in her chair.

"Well think about it," he prompted. "How many people have the mind flayers infected? Hundreds? Thousands?"

"Probably hundreds," Tav guessed. "It's an involved process."

"Hundreds then." Astarion conceded a little of his daydream to reality, but only a little. "And they're not just goblin trash. There are powerful people in the worm's thrall."

"Sure," said Tav.

"Whoever's waiting for us at Moonrise Towers controls it all. But what if we can take that control from them?"

"Mm," said Tav.

"I'm just saying," he pressed. "There's an opportunity here. Imagine the entire cult under our thumb. If we can control the tadpoles we can keep ourselves safe, liberate the world from this evil, and enjoy a little world domination on the side."

He laughed a bit at the idea. It was so delightful he couldn't help himself. "You can't tell me that doesn't sound fun?"

He looked at her for confirmation. She'd gone quiet. She sometimes did that when he talked up the tadpoles. He presumed that was the kind of reticence that came paired with morals, and that it might be worn down by time and temptation.

She was staring down into her cup of wine with a tight expression. Brows drawn, mouth turned down into almost a grimace. She looked ill.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mn." She shook her head and the expression smoothed away as she looked up at him. "The wine may be off."

"No. It's trash, but it's fine," he told her. "Why are you upset?"

"It's feelings," she said, as if she were warning him.

Astarion shrugged. "So? You only talk about feelings with druids? Pretend I'm Halsin. I could stand on top of a chair if it would help."

He lost her to sniggering for a moment. When she'd finished laughing at his objectively hilarious joke, she spent another moment considering responses. Then she gave him a 'you asked' look and started talking.

"When I was in my early twenties I learned Charm Person." She was tracing the rim of her cup around and around with her fingertip. "And it was the only spell I cast for like, six months. It was like playing an easier version of life. It made everything manageable. Everyone tractable."

"There were a lot of long term consequences to that. The worst was I permanently fucked up my relationship with my sister." Tav tilted her cup almost to spilling. "She was a year younger than me and in her making bad decisions phase. And I could just stop her. Every time she wanted to do some idiot, dangerous thing."

"But.” Tav enunciated the conjunction so that it popped. “Enchantments that make false emotions can atrophy real emotions. By the time I figured out what I was doing it was too late. She didn't feel anything about me anymore, when she wasn't charmed."

Tav tipped her cup back upright. It looked a little like she'd wanted to let it spill. Probably to match her narrative or some dramatic thing like that. But that impulse had died under her need not to waste food.

"So I don't touch control spells." She continued. "No charms. No compulsions."

She hadn't looked at Astarion for the entire story. An attitude of shame, even though her voice was mild and steady.

"And then the mindflayer thing happened." She made vague gestures towards Astarion's head and then hers. "And now...I feel like a teetotaler with a bottle of wine hanging in front of me all the time."

She took another drink from her cup.

"Authority," she said in a tone that managed to be mocking and maudlin all at once.

She seemed to be finished. All right. He had listened. That was done. Now Astarion cast about in his mind for what you were supposed to do when someone told you a sad story and you cared about it.

...

It was depressing how shit he was at this.

She didn't seem to mind the long silence. She was staring into her cup again, swirling the cheap wine about, expression pensive and glum.

Astarion minded the long silence though. He finally landed on something to say that vaguely fit the shape of the conversation.

"Fine. Very well then, " he began. "Out of the kindness of my heart, to spare you this pain, I will be the one to take control of the Absolute cult."

She didn't spit up her drink, but that was only because it hadn't quite made it to her lips before she started laughing.

"Oh my Gods," she said breathlessly, a minute later. "No, you racist, squirrel kicking, sociopath. You'd better be actually joking because no one is letting you do that. I am in fucking love with you and I would never let you do that."

Astarion was gearing up to get catty, perhaps even angry, about the first part of that statement. Then the last sentence happened and it was like being struck by a very soft bolt of lightning. It jangled something in his head, and left him feeling numb and strange and a little warm.

That was wrong. That wasn't how things worked. Feelings weren't supposed to be warm like that. He wasn't a thing that produced warmth. What was this?

Tav was distracted, squinting at the bottle of plum fizz to gauge how much was left. Which was good because Astarion had even less of an idea than usual what his face looked like right now.

As he watched her, Tav smiled in that particular way that he was beginning to recognize as an expression that happened right before she said something intended to goad him.

Then she said: "We can put Wyll in charge."

"Absolutely not," said Astarion, snapping out of his confusing reverie by the need to object to that unconscionable idea.

"Ha!" said Tav, finally looking up at him. "Absolute-ly not."

"Don't start," Astarion said warningly. She could become absolutel--completely insufferable with puns if it wasn't cut off quickly. This wanted a distraction. He considered which of their companions he'd like best as an all-powerful cult leader if it couldn't be him or Tav.

"Lae'zel," he said. He was aware it wasn't the right choice, but it was the one he liked.

Tav snorted. "Sure. Never much liked Faerun being intact and at peace. Why not?"

"Gale," she suggested then, because apparently this was another game now. "He'll compel all of us to sit down and listen to him explain the distinction between radiance damage and fire damage."

"I distinctly prefer Lae'zel," Asterion said. Then inspiration struck. "No. Wait. We're both wrong. Karlach."

"Shit. You're right," Tav said immediately. "Karlach for cult leader. World domination. World dominatrix."

"She does look good in leather," Astarion admitted.

"Truth," said Tav. "Great. I'm glad we resolved that."

Astarion swirled the dregs of his spiked-wine about in his cup. He was putting off finishing it because that would be the last of his blood for the day.

"I am serious about the power," he told her. "It's not often the universe hands you something like this. I don't want us wasting it."

"We won't," Tav promised. "We're going to take them for all we safely can. And we're going to make a lot of powerful allies on the way. And if we do find the macguffin that lets us take control of the cult, I'm seriously now considering the pros and cons of Karlach being the one to use it. That might be the plum fizz doing the thinking, but I am currently letting it."

"Macguffin is a theater thing?" Astarion clarified dryly. Tav's incomprehensible nonsense words were usually theater things.

"Yes," she confirmed. "A magic object in a story that lets you do exactly the thing you want to do. They don't usually exist in the real world so don't hold your breath."

He gave her a significant look. She laughed.

"Or hold your breath if you want to, I guess, vampire privilege. You won't. Because it would also involve refraining from talking."

He tossed his head disdainfully and distinctly didn't respond. She laughed again.

The conversation hadn't gone precisely as he wanted, but he was fairly content with the results. Tav's assistance was, as always, intractably ethical and therefore conditional. But it still gave him better odds for getting something like what he wanted than just showing up and causing chaos.

It was rather nice having a friend who was a details person.

****

This is part of an ongoing story. It begins here.

Here's a list of other stories like this.

****

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #conversations you have at midnight #while drunk on plum fizz

30 notes · View notes

gaym0m · 2 years ago

Text

I promised fluff so here we go,

This is, Ellie and Beth taking care of their s/o (you) when sick.

Ellie

Ellie was always been a mother figure.

First to Beth

Then to herself in a way

Followed by her own kids

When her husband left, she felt herself about to crumble

She could play mom, she could play the responsible game

But she had no idea if she could make it playing mom and dad

Thankfully, you’re her neighbor.

And you’re. . . Well actually really nice.

The night Jay left (fuck him. How you fumble a bag that FUCKEN badly?? I could never) Ellie felt as though she was going to crumble right outside the door of her apartment

Blue eyes stared angrily (sadly) at Jay’s form as he walked away towards the open elevator.

she hadn’t planned on knocking on your door

Well technically she didn’t, she just leaned next to it, head falling back and her arms falling to her side

She didn’t have the strength to stop her arms from accidentally smacking the door a couple times on your door

While you were getting ready for bed, the knock called your attention quickly

Just as quick as the knock felt, you moved towards the door and cracked it open with a curious look

“Uh— you okay?”

Awkward college student is awkward (as a college student, just pretend you are too)

“Shit! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Brows furrowed, you opened the door slightly more and lightly tilted your head

“Hey. . . Uh why you crying?”

Awkward college student is staying awkward

Thankfully Ellie found your awkwardness slightly funny and slightly adorable

While she didn’t say anything, she also didn’t storm away from you so you took that as a win

“Do you. . . Do you wanna come in?”

Normally Ellie wouldn’t take an opportunity like that, always being the strongest and always trying to be their for others

But her kids were sleeping

Her sister wasn’t answering the phone

And her husband just left her

She was crumbling at an alarming rate and she didn’t want to wake her kids

After she agreed you lead her inside, sitting her and yourself on the couch with two beer (or whatever drink you want) bottles

Before long, Ellie was telling you everything

And you listened carefully

At one point, your hand leaned out and took hers

Your thumb gently rubbing her knuckles as she choked up on her words

Sooner than later she crumbled completely

Two drinks forgotten as you pulled her into a comforting hug

You could feel her tears wetting your shirt

Not like that mattered to you

Your enter focus being on comforting her

Eventually she calmed down and you both said a quick goodbye

After that she reached out more often

From bring you food to asking you babysit for her while she worked

Of course you happily watched the kids for her, Danny being the oldest usually complained at first

But he quickly warmed up to you when you let him play his remixes while you helped cleaned

Bridget constantly poked at your brain about how different college is from high school and your major

Meanwhile Kassie just loved how playful you were

And maybe how you would always sneak her a candy or two when you visited/babysat

At some point Ellie and the kids started inviting you to dinner instead of just bringing you a plate.

Well. . . Until one day where you randomly turned them down.

To say dread build up in all of them would be an understatement

At first they tried to comfort themselves thinking you were going out

But they could hear your tv playing

Eventually it became to much for them all

The fear of losing you like their father made the kids snap and run to your door

Of course Ellie followed shortly behind

Almost frantically, They knocked on your door until it slightly cracked open

Instant relief flooded their system until they noticed your bright red nose, flushed and tired looking face and messy hair

Then it all clicked in their mind

You were sick

Not avoiding them, not tired of them, definitely not abandoning them

Just sick— really sick by the way you looked

“hey guys, go back inside and warm up some of the soup. I’ll take care of them.”

Ellie instructed her kids who all nodded and ran to their apartment

Danny took over soup re warming duties, Bridgette took over raiding the medical cabinet for anything that might help, while Kassie grabbed as many of her favorite things (plushies) to comfort you with

Meanwhile, Ellie made her way into your apartment

She played deaf to your argument of not wanting to get her sick as she pushed you back into bed.

Quickly she pressed her forehead to yours (had you not been so sick you probably would have started blushing and losing your mind with how close she was)

Her eyes widen when she felt just how warm you felt, then softened quickly as she took your hand

“Oh sweetheart. . . Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Her sweet motherly tone made your stomach burst into butterflies

“I. . . Didn’t want to bother. . . And I didn’t feel this bad till about an hour ago.”

“Babe, you’re never a bother but okay. I’m assuming you haven’t eaten?”

Quietly you nodded, throat too sore to continue speaking

With a quick “I’ll be right back.” Ellie ran to your kitchen grabbing a rag and a bowl with cold water and some ice

Just as quickly she returned, laying the towel on your head

The kids returned within five minutes of Ellie watching you with worried eyes

Kassie was quick to crawl into your bed, pushing her plushies against your side

Bridgette meanwhile handed Ellie the medication, giving her a look of ‘i kinda grabbed what sounded helpful’

While Ellie looked through the bag, Danny set a bowl of soup on your bedside table. Also setting down some water, crackers and other light (snack like) foods near by

Watching them all scramble to take care of you brought tears to your eyes, but the panic set in quick

“Wait. . . Y-you’ll all get sick if you’re—“

Your rough protest was cut off by a sudden coughing fit.

Whatever you had was doing a number in your system

As soon as your coughing fit was over, all four of the Bixler’s placed a hand on you, Ellie rubbing your back, kassie and Bridgette claimed one had each, while Danny placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Worry less about us and more about your health.”

Not accepting any argument form your end, Ellie reached for the soup slowly feeding you just enough for her to be sure your stomach wouldn’t suffer from the medication

Once you had food, water and medication in your system, the kids said their goodbyes and headed home

(Kassie definitely fell asleep on you and Danny had to carry her home)

But Ellie stayed by your side until you fell asleep

When you woke up, you felt better (still sick but better) and a sweet note on your side from Ellie.

Beth

Being part of the band/crew meant you two were all over the world constantly

As a actual band member with vip meeting fans all around the world meant you were close to strangers every other night

So you were bound to catch something eventually

Even if it’s a fever or the flu

You can’t play that nights concert

Thankfully you had someone to cover

But with how sick you really were

You kinda forgot to tell Beth

And to say she was mad

Well

Haha

Yeah

That would be

The understatement

Of the fucken

Century

Unfortunately she still had a job to do

So you did have to wait

But every second that passed Beth grew more and more annoyed

Because how dare you

Not tell HER

HER

Geez if she wasn’t exhausted herself she would have killed you

By the time the show ended

The entire crew and band could tell she was on her last nerve

And even though she was like one of the few girls in the crew

She was still 5’8 (yes Lilly is also tall and it’s hot for my 5’3 ass.)

And she could punch better than most of them

And they knew better than to piss her off

So quickly the crew manager dismissed her

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when she was already out of the auditorium and half way to the tour bus your sick body rested in

The loud slam of the door opening and closing definitely stirred you a bit

But the medicine in your system kept you half asleep and loopy

“How come you didn’t tell me?!”

The voice sounded weird to your ears and the face of the person speaking (yelling) at you was blurred

At best

Though it didn’t take to long for your eyes to focus on her

Beth looked pissed

But in your loopy state, she looks beautiful

And that filter between your brain and mouth was gone

So you said that

“Why are you so pretty?”

Your speech was slurred and the small giggle that followed DIDNT help your case

Thankfully, Beth found it adorable

Even though she was mad

Instead of trying to scold you further, she leaned foward

Her soft lips landing on the crown of your head

“Go back to sleep dummy.”

She mumbled, pushing you back down into your bed and covering you for the night

As much as you wanted to protest, the medication still had you in a sleepy state

So it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep

Meanwhile Beth took the bunk next to yours, forcing one of the band members to take the couch out front.

Rip his back but Beth had to keep watch over you

And yeah that helped a lot.

Emotionally at least

Hope y’all liked 🥰

#ellie evil dead rise #beth evil dead rise #beth bixler #beth evil dead rise x reader #ellie evil dead rise x reader #beth evil dead #Beth Bixler x reader #ellie bixler #Ellie bixler x reader

110 notes · View notes

fixfoxnox · 2 years ago

Note

Congrats on finishing SitO! It’s genuinely one of the best written pieces of fan fiction I’ve ever come across and definitely that best I’ve read within this fandom! Thanks for all the effort you put into it, anyone reading this story can tell just how much you loved telling it.

Also, from your AU list, I’m SUPER excited to see more from your Alerudy Cartel AU! I have no idea what it is (the drama?? The deception?? Secretly badass Rudy??) but something about the idea is just scratching my brain right, do you have any head canons / details you want to share about it?

I literally love this AU with a passion, I'm sorry but its so fucking good like its time that we let Rudy be kinda evil and badass guys

Here are some thoughts/established things I have here:

Rudy plays the part of the innocent little house husband for his act, which includes letting his fake husband order him around when they are in public

Because of this Rudy had to choose someone he actually liked to be his fake husband

So his fake husband is actually his second in command. A man he knows is loyal and he knew would be willing to go with the idea because he's lowkey in love with Rudy

They are actually married, just not together. They have all the paperwork filed and everything, that way if something happened or someone accused them of having a fake marriage they could prove it

Rudy's second in command/fake husband fucking hates Alejandro

He knows that Alejandro and Rudy are sleeping together but has to pretend to not know/play nice

Y'all know Sin Nombre's mansion in the game? Thats actually Rudy's house in this AU. He uses it as his actual home and base of operations

Rudy is like a very big like community helper type of cartel leader (think like Mafia's/mobs who do a lot of community service/help people out so that people will turn a blind eye to their crimes)

His cartel is less in the open than Valeria's. No men walking around in masks or with guns on full display. He doesn't need the showboating to keep his control over the area

Later on as the power keeps shifting he ends up essentially absorbing the other cartel and bringing Valeria in to his team. He gives her control over his cartel in another town so she still has that power she wants, but is still under his thumb.

Rudy and Alejandro meet before the events of MW2 and by the time that the events of MW2 come around, Alejandro knows Rudy is the head of the cartel and Rudy has taken full control of the area

When they do the Sin Nombre mission in the game, that's different as Alejandro (still sleeping with Rudy even though he knows he's cartel) just kinda brings Soap, Ghost, and Graves with him

He's like "hey Rudy do you happen to have any information on this terrorist"

And Graves, Ghost, and Soap are all surprised when Rudy is like "Since you asked so nicely-" and just spills everything to him

Graves lowkey thinks Rudy is hot and makes some comments and Alejandro literally has to keep from punching him in the face.

When the stuff with the base happens, Rudy actually sends cartel men in on a temporary truce with Soap and Ghost to help rescue the Vaqueros

Rudy can literally switch from sweet innocent house husband mode to "I will fucking stab you if you talk back to me again" mode within like a second and it fully turns Alejandro on every time

Once Alejandro knows that Rudy is the head of the cartel, they actually keep sleeping together and their relationship kinda turns into Alejandro laying in bed with Rudy like "I'm going to bring down your operation and arrest you"

And Rudy just snuggles closer to him and is like "I'm sure you will Ale, I'm sure you will."

Rudy has four guard dogs and they all absolutely adore Alejandro

Like tackling him to give him kisses any time he shows up type of love

Before Alejandro knows about Rudy's marriage being a sham and everything, he was a jealous mess

Like when I say that him and Rudy's fake husband were fighting, I mean they were fighting fighting

Like Rudy's fake husband makes a point to always interrupt them or show up at random times. And he always wraps himself around Rudy and is all flirtatious cause he knows all Alejandro can do is watch

Then you have Alejandro who will drop random snide comments about how he didn't understand how the man managed to marry someone like Rudy or how he was sure Rudy was always unsatisfied with him

Rudy didn't mind their fued because he liked the attention and also it was fun to play pretend affair for a bit

He especially liked when he and Alejandro were in bed and Alejandro would start with the "does your husband fuck you like this? I bet he can't even make you cum. Thats it baby scream my name so everyone knows who you really belong to."

When Alejandro needs favors Rudy likes to pull a "I'll need some payment for this" then just have Alejandro fuck him sjdndnnf

Rudy is constantly buying Alejandro the most expensive nicest shit ever

Alejandro always feels bad cause he can't afford anything as nice and always ends up settling on like flowers and stuffed animals and chocolates

Meanwhile any time he gives those things to Rudy and Rudy is literally melting into a puddle because he loves them so much

Literally any stuffed animal or little trinket Alejandro gets him either goes on his bed or on display

Despite them being on opposite sides they are very soft and in love and I stand by that

Rudy in this au loves knives, they are his go to weapon for anything and everything

Also he wears the sluttiest little outfits. Like will wear a shirt unbuttoned half way to shoe off his chest and is just like that djdjdjfj

Actually falls in love with Las Almas when he moves into the town and genuinely does his best to take care of the town and the people and keep cartel business outside of peoples lives

#thoughts with luke #you asked luke #alerudy #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #alejandro cod #rudy mw2 #alejandro x rudy #rudy cod #alejandro mw2

76 notes · View notes

tawneybel · 1 year ago

Text

Note: Cullen Moss also played Shoupe on OBX. Corrupt authority with pretty eyes. Anyway, sorry for neglecting the inbox. Going to try to finish some requests soon.

Imagine Gorman agreeing to stay away from Joan and Beth as long as he gets you.

I’m not sure why you even bothered asking me, you pretended to say, Dawn’s in charge of who boinks who around here.

He thumbed your tongue, which promptly retracted. A coquettish lick? Smile widening, Officer Gorman swooped in.

Her iron fist’s slackening, you continued. It was hard to shut your brain off. To just daydream while he performed all the cavity searches he wanted. Your thoughts refused to leave Grady Memorial Hospital. At least Gorman could only have his way here. No driving you to remote locations for backseat banging. Misuse of police equipment might still occur. Or not.

Dawn’d cream her well-ironed pants if she knew about Woodbury. (Happier times.)

As long as you complied, no handcuffs, right? If he tried dirty talk on a walkie-talkie, you’d seek him out in person. Beth and everyone else would find out you were Gorman’s... girl. Eventually. Comply, and he might agree to be discreet. Hickeys, other bruises; they could be hidden. A broken spirit couldn’t. Yours couldn’t. Not from Beth. Speaking of whom…

He was friendly to her, at first. Surely he won’t be too sadistic?

You shuddered. A wet thumb ceased rubbing itself against your nipple.

“Sensitive, huh?” Gorman straightened, a saliva strand linking your frown to his smirk. “Nipple-play’ll work just fine.”

“And titjobs?”

“And titjobs,” he affirmed.

Your heart lightened. It was sad that this hunger was the least horrific kind you’d faced since the outbreak.

Whatever you put me through, can’t there at least be orgasms?

“I- I’m good with my mouth. Or so I’ve been told.”

The leer told you that was the right thing to say. In this situation. He wasn’t a cherry hound. Maybe even liked his ladies experienced. But Officer Gorman wasn’t going to have any more ladies. Just you. You would make sure of that.

“I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He went in for another peck. It almost felt nice. The way your tongues meshed. His hot palms against your stiff peaks. Blood flowing to your extremities. Adrenaline as the result of anything other than the threat of being devoured alive.

But isn’t that what he’s doing, too?

At least he left his gear. This would be “vanilla.” Batons are for beating rotters, not beating off. You giggled. Coinciding with his high beam tweaking. Sure making them puffy. Hopefully, your chest would be the only sore thing. That day. You needed to be prepared for whatever perversions-

“God, I can’t wait to see you wriggle around on my cock.”

Then he burrowed his face in your valley. Thumbs still pinned on your caps.

At least he left his gear.

“Condoms.”

You knew even your __-cups couldn’t muffle his hearing. Yet he didn’t stop administering sloppy kisses and licks. Not until you ran a hand up and down his back. His face was flushed. Unnannoyed, though, because his thumb and forefingers continued pinching. Hard.

“Trojans are in short supply. Bareback’s out of the question… unless you want to give me a kid.”

11 notes · View notes

dragonmasterhiccup · 2 months ago

Note

Holding her hands up in 'surrender', she spoke more calmly, although still looking forward to putting Arvid in his place - in a much kinder way than if she did it on her own. "Okay, okay. Yup, that's the plan."

Mirroring her boyfriend's smile, Freya acknowledged the warmth only he gave spring up inside of her once again, delighted that she got to be the one by his side. "How did I get this lucky..?" Lightly shaking her head, she glanced at the fireplace, talking to herself as though she discovered a shocking new fact. "I mean, I get to love Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third in this way…wow."

Raising her brows at Toothless' groan as if to enhance her statement, she froze for a moment when Hiccup spoke his next words, cheeks becoming rosy. "Well, you, I..just--you--" Sighing, she avoided his gaze. "You will pay for this.." Quickly leaning forward, she pecked him on his forehead. "That's…that's how you'll pay."

Nodding in a composed demeanour, her tone was straightforward, while also evidently playful: "Yes. Obviously, if there was any competition like that, you'd win it. Fair and simple."

'What scrunchy nose thing!?' Freya thought, as she ignorantly remained doing it. 'Oh..wait..' She hastily attempted to keep her expression straight, assuming her face was just as red as the paint he was cleaning off. "It's..not adorable, Hiccup!" Grumbling, she added: "You'll pay for this…again.."

She stared at him, blinking with eyes that reflected sincere love as she took in all he said. It was true, there were some parts of her that still felt guilty for how she previously treated him. 'After everything..he forgives me..' His consideration for how she felt seemed to make her even more enamoured of him.

Yet, the silent struggle to completely forgive herself hadn't left, and she knew it would have to eventually. Looking towards the floor, she mumbled loud enough so he could hear: "..It's hard to, if I'm being honest…but, I'll try. For both of us."

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

Blaze tilted his head, slightly puzzled as to what Toothless was doing at first. When he peeked through the pile of snow, the Sand Wraith jokingly flinched, huffing in amusement - until there was snow unexpectedly thrown on top of him, scattered over his ochre scales and on his snout. He sniffed, then sneezed, beaming as he had an idea of his own.

He rapidly fluttered his wings above the snow, making it steadily float up into the air around them as he began spinning in place, trilling in delight.

Freya snorted, covering her mouth when she realized she did so. "You were never really the average type anyways…which is another reason why I love you so much." Full of warmth on the inside despite the cold around them, her smile grew as he labeled it as a perfect gift. "You don't know how happy that makes me.."

She felt thrilled, even as Hiccup pretended to try and escape, quickly moving to place a short kiss to his chin instead. "My way of saying thank you, remember?"

Humming in agreement, Freya put the dagger into its sheath. "Yeah, you're right. Shouldn't give Arvid the satisfaction of seeing him on Snoggletog.."

The corner of her lips lifted up as he rubbed the back of her hand, copying his actions by gently brushing the inside of his palm with her thumb. Faintly chuckling at the mention of their families, she glimpsed towards the ground, the tip of her nose becoming slightly red due to the cold. "That does sound nice…" Returning her eyes upon him, her question came in a softened tone, nearly beseeching: "It'll be just us, right? With Blaze and Toothless…until we need to go back for dinner..?"

Noticing the look he gave, which almost appeared identical to the one she barely did, she lifted his hand and delicately kissed it, opening her eyes from closing them after she did so. "Of course. I wouldn't want to spend Snoggletog any other way."

Freya hesitated for a short second before stepping closer and resting her head on his shoulder - how she implied a hug. Peacefully exhaling, she shut her eyes in the comfort of recognizing that she could be herself alongside Hiccup, something she cherished. "I'm sorry if I'm doing too much…I just..really like feeling this warmth when I'm next to you."

Pulling away to fully see him, her head subtly tilted. "I forgot to tell you that… Whatever abilities you have, it makes me feel warm…like I'm in front of my fireplace or something… Does that sound weird? It probably does, huh? Yeah, it's a little weird--" She rambled the last bits to herself, absentmindedly tapping his arm.

Blaze, sensing his rider's odd behavior, stopped in his tracks, getting Toothless' attention as he gestured towards the two humans. A playful smirk made itself visible on his face, carefully picking up a small pile of snow on his tail as he quietly let out a rumbled laughter. ‘Let's help them!’

Without anymore time wasted, the Sand Wraith launched the snow at his best friend, huffing when it landed right in front of her. Freya accidentally squeaked in shock, briskly covering her mouth after she registered what noise that was. "T-that was not me--!" She yelped as Blaze threw more snow in her direction, shielding herself by raising her arms above her head.

"Blaze! What do you think you're doing!?" Her shouts went ignored as he had the guts to step forward and flick snow directly at her face, making her erupt into a blissful fit of laughter as she began to dodge the dragon's attacks and make a beeline for her best friend. "Hiccup! Save yourself!"

The Sand Wraith faked a roar, whisking extra snow on her by using both his wings and tail. His efforts to keep her away was brought to an utter failure as his rider leaped up to wrap her arms around his neck, standing on the tips of her toes. "Got you! We won, Hiccup!" And then, she was abruptly lifted off the ground, dangling off the dragon as though her life depended on it.

Blaze grumbled with mirth, mockingly walking around on his hind legs as he cooed in delight. "Hey! You can't do that!" His best friend yelled, her chuckles going against her claim.

Freya kicked her legs in the air, hanging onto Blaze as much as she could before he, thankfully, went back on all fours, gently setting her down while grinning triumphantly. "That wasn't fair and you know it." She dramatically put her hands on her hips when he imitated her talking by opening and closing his mouth as if speaking himself.

"Thor, you're sassy! More than me!" She playfully pushed his head away, rubbing it firmly before he trotted off, beckoning for Toothless to follow as the Sand Wraith motioned to the snow to see who could dig through it faster.

Shaking off the white flecks on her hair and clothes, she didn't yet notice the small spatter of snow on her nose because of how numb it had gotten from the brumal air. "Y'know, it'd be nice if the great Dragon Master could make dragons stop behaving so sassily too.."

"You?" He grinned at her, eyes soft, "I get to love the one and only Freya Leif. I'm the lucky one."

Looking at her, he felt unsure about what that payment could be...but his expression melted into one of joy when she pecked his cheek, a warm smile growing on his face. "I could get used to that...do you need interest, or...?"

His smile didn't budge as she crinkled her nose again, and he tried to commit it to memory. "It is, I promise you. It absolutely is extremely adorable, and there's no possible way you could ever convince me otherwise."

Still grinning, he nodded, "Then that's a price I'm willing to pay!"

Not letting go of her hands, he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. "Trying is all I ask."

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

Toothless bobbed his head, warbling excitedly, and began to mirror Blaze's movements. Flapping his wings so fast, he began to hover, dragging his feet along the snow as he moved.

He briefly tilted his head, agreeing with her statement. "Yeah, I guess I do tend to defy the norm, huh?" Chuckling, he continued, "Well, that's good. I'd be a little worried if me being me caused you to have trouble loving me!" His brows furrowed, bringing a hand to his chin in thought, "Did...did that make sense? I--I think I may have lost the point somewhere there..."

Laying in the snow, he looked up at her smiling, "Oh! Right, of course!" Yeah, he definitely hadn't forgotten...okay, maybe he had...

Nodding, he confirmed, "That's the plan! I can't account for the unexpected, but it looks like it will be just that, just us until dinner."

Smiling warmly at her, he placed a kiss on her forehead. "I love you."

As she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on her head. "There's nothing to apologize for."

Grinning, he shook his head. "I've noticed that too, you know, when I'm with you. It's got to be a side effect of love, or something...whatever it is, I like it. You know how I usually have trouble shaking off the cold? Well...it doesn't linger as much, when I'm with you."

Toothless, excited, did the same, scooping snow up with his tail and launching it directly at Hiccup.

"Uh, bud? What...what are you doing--Mmfph!" He was abruptly cut off, getting hit in the face with snow as the Night Fury rumbled out a laugh.

Wiping the precipitation off his face, he glanced over at Freya, seeing that she wasn't faring much better.

"Save myself? What about you?" But she was running straight towards her dragon. Shaking his head, he followed suit, dodging any further projectiles from the jolly Night Fury.

Just as his girlfriend was declaring their win, his prosthetic slid in the snow, sending him tumbling straight into Toothless' side.

"Ugh..." Of course he'd forgotten to switch the foot to the one for snow and ice.

Toothless peered down at Hiccup as he, once again, laid on his back in the snow, the dragon giving a gummy grin. "Oh, you find that funny, don't you?" Scrambling to his feet, he wrapped his arms around the dragons neck, his voice strained as he tried to move the dragon. "Then try this on! You feeling it yet?"

Toothless, unmoved, rolled his eyes, grumbling playfully.

Stepping back, Hiccup placed his hands on his hips before wagging a scolding finger at the dragon. "Oh, I see what game you're playing. Alright, you've left me no choice..."

Stepping back further, he made to run to the Night Fury again, but the dragon just turned his back to the future chief.

Deflating, Hiccup looked at Toothless in disbelief. "Wait, what? Wait, I...I thought we were, y'know, messing around, like we always do..."

Toothless just grumbled.

"No? Hm..." Walking towards Toothless, he stood in front of the dragon, searching his face for the true reason.

"Oh. Oh, I see..."

Toothless hung his head, looking up at Hiccup with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry bud, I should've known."

This time, he wrapped his arms around the dragon to give him a hug. Toothless reciprocated, but only for a moment before shooting Blaze a playful look.

Standing on his hind legs, he lifted Hiccup off the ground, lumbering around on his back legs through the snow. "Ah! T-Toothless?!! What are you doing?!"

The dragon began laughing once again, falling backwards into the snow, bringing Hiccup down on top of him.

The future chief grunted from the impact, before rolling off the Night Fury.

"I didn't expect to be rolling in the snow this much..." When Toothless laughed again, Hiccup flung some snow at the dragon in retaliation.

Now once again next to his girlfriend, he just shook his head with a sigh. "I can only make them see me as an equal, a friend. I can't control their personalities, you know..."

Seeing the snow on her nose, he suppressed a grin. "You, uh, you have a little... just, hold still..." Reaching over, he wiped the snow off the tip of her nose. "There."

Noticing how cold she looked, his brows turned upwards in concern. It was cold, and after being in the snow so much, Hiccup was starting to feel it too. "Hey, why don't we go somewhere to warm up? Sit by the fire or something... My hut should be empty, dad has to observe and judge the snowdragon competition, it'll take hours. Should we head there, warm up?"

#asks #threads #justpeaxchy

3 notes · View notes