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divine-bangtan · 5 years ago

Text

- sugar & spice (m) jjk & kth

➻ summary: “Your assistant Jungkook has been harbouring secret feelings for you, the sweet bakery owner, for some time now. But what will happen when Taehyung, handsome, smooth as ever and mysteriously new to town comes along to sweep you off your feet?”

➻ Kiki’s Delivery Service!AU

➻ word count: 20.8k

➻ pairing: older baker!reader x baker assistant Jungkook x upperclass Taehyung.

➻ warnings: angst, reader doubts herself a lot, unprotected penetrative sex (pls keep this a fantasy only and wrap it), oral m. and f. receiving, spitroasting, creampie...hehe, food play, mentions of mxm, pregnancy, pregnant sex, lactation, squirting, anal fingering, anal sex, double penetration, daddy kink, and somehow also tooth rotting fluff.

➻ A/N: Thank you to my lovely cutie pie and fellow cherry koo enthusiast @gingerpeachtae for beta reading this for me! 🍒💜 The age of the reader is totally up to you! I’m absolutely in love with this AU, it’s the fluffiest yet the filthiest thing I’ve ever written yet. If you’re wondering about the time period, the film is set in a kind of alternate 30s though it’s not confirmed.

Moodboard I Music

It started with the gardenia.

The first time Taehyung visited your bakery he had left behind a small white flower on the bakery counter when you weren’t looking, startling you in the most pleasant of ways when you nearly crushed it with your hand. You lifted the petals to brush the tip of your nose as you sampled the sweet scent, a blush warming your cheeks as you remembered how his charming smile had you flustered and fretful yet so endeared. However, what was not lost on you was the meaning behind it. Secret love.

“...Miss?” A voice trailed off, disturbing you from your wandering thoughts and turning your attention to the customer right in front of you. “May I please get four apple danishes, a loaf of bread and a box of orange poppy seed muffins?”

“Sorry, yes of course! One moment please, hey Kookie?” You called in a singsong voice as you slipped into the back workroom. “We’ve got another order for orange poppyseed, how long will they be?”

Your part-time helper came in the form of Jeon Jungkook, but you liked to call him Kookie due to his sweet nature. He was six feet tall, ridiculously muscled and had an adorable bunny smile. He did most of the oven work, tending to the fires and cleaning in the kitchen, but helped you with some of the baking as well. He was particularly gifted at making the most exquisite citrus flavoured cakes, and had more recently been trying to perfect cream puffs.

“Not long, noona. They’ve been very popular lately,” he mused, dimples etched deeply into his cheeks as he grinned. A smudge of black from the coal darkened one, and you couldn’t help but tut.

“Of course they are, they’re delicious and it’s going to be spring soon...also you have soot on your face again, Kook,” you informed him, wiping it away with an endeared smile. The gentle tingle of the bell alerted you to another customer entering the store, and you hurried back out the front to continue running your popular business.

“Sorry, the orange poppyseed will be ready soon. Are you happy to wait?”

“Of course!” The young lady remarked, tilting to the left slightly to get a glimpse of Jungkook.

You remember the day he had come by your bakery, spotting the sign in your window stating you were looking for a kitchen hand. It was over three years ago now, the young man had just moved here for a change in scenery and was looking for a job. The picturesque seaside town provided the perfect scenery for his hobby of photography, and he was saving up to buy a better camera than the second hand one he currently owned.

It was astonishing how quickly he grew and matured in that time as well, hitting almost a second puberty and growing tall and filling out very nicely. The ladies in the town didn’t miss it either. It was a shame he was so shy around them, looking so out of place with a blush dusting his cheeks when he would catch a flock of them whispering to each other about if the cute baker was seeing anyone. They certainly weren’t coy about the way they would stare at his bulging biceps as he hoisted around the large trays of steaming fresh bread loaves, or wouldn’t hesitate to ogle his behind when he squatted to reach the lower shelves behind the counter. If only he could get a clue, but alas, he was absolutely oblivious.

After about ten minutes Jungkook emerged from the back room to refill the glass display with his cakes that would no doubt be gone within the hour. He handed the young lady a bagful, and flustered when her fingers brushed a little boldly over his.

“These are really delicious, Mr. Jeon. I would even dare say they’re my favorite. Perhaps you’d like to join me later and we can share them?” She asked him, a glint of hope in her eyes at the way he gawked at her.

From how pretty she was, you didn’t blame him. In fact, a tiny inkling of jealousy unfurled within you, wishing that you could have handsome men line up the way women did for him. Sure, the young man may have wiggled his way into your heart, setting down roots that began small but steadily grew, but he didn’t seem to return your fledgling feelings. A small smile found its way onto his face - nothing like the one you got from him every morning when you opened up the shop together - but nonetheless he was still smiling at her.

“Or you could even give me a private lesson on baking? I just had my kitchen redone, it’s so grand.” The young woman suggested, but it was when he started becoming flustered for a response that you realised how uncomfortable he was, and how grotesque and ugly it was for you to be jealous in the first place. “The bench is just the perfect he-”

“I’m afraid Jungkook is working right now, and business is really quite demanding at the moment,” you interrupted, causing her sweet expression to sour. “Remember the wedding at the end of the week? We’ve got a lot of orders to finish up on.”

If looks could kill, you’d surely be six feet under from the bitter expression she shot at you. She huffed and gathered her things, leaving without her usual generous tip. Upon her disappearing from sight, Jungkook let out a long breath, shoulders slumping in relief.

“Thank you noona, I really didn’t like the direction that conversation was taking,” he murmured, looking off into space like he was having a traumatic flashback before shuddering violently. “I can close up shop, you should have an early finish for once, you work too hard.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he shushed you, insisting. “No really, I got it covered. Thank you again, noona.” He swooped in to peck you on the cheek before pushing you toward the back. Powerless against his inhumane strength, you had no choice but to be ushered halfway up the stairs before he bounded back down and returned to the shop.

When you reached the top of the stairs your black cat Jiji was quick to rub around your ankles, purring and meowing for food. You chuckled softly at his dramatic antics, more than once having to shoo him away as you fill his bowl with wet food, scraping the bottom of the tin. Some got on your fingers and you scrunched your nose in distaste, wiping your dirty fingers on your apron before untying it and placing it in your washing basket, absentmindedly wondering what you could do.

You supposed you could always finish off the spread for the wedding pastries and, most importantly, the cake. Sketches were strewn across the coffee table, and you sat down on the couch with a huff, vowing to finish it by tonight. Your eyes were drawn to a photograph of the couple, arms around each other in a sweet embrace as the photo was taken. It was the day they were examining the potential wedding venue, you remember how she gushed about the amount of flowers in the garden when she left you the photographs. Her wedding cake was to be white and have lots of iced flowers on each tier, it was simple yet so beautiful. She seemed happy. You wondered when you would find someone who would return your love the way her fiance seemed to, if his look of adoration was anything to go by. Then you remembered the gardenia, and how you met the young man you gave it to you.

It was getting quite late in the day and your shop normally had a few stragglers around this time, however, this evening it was empty. You had your head stuck in the display case, reaching far in to wipe down each shelf. The soft ringing of the bell on your door didn’t reach your ears, nor the footsteps that made their way to the counter.

You jumped in fright when a face appeared in front of yours, slightly warped through the glass. He stared for a moment too long before you hurriedly freed yourself, dusted off your apron and smoothed any frizzy baby hairs you knew would probably be sticking up. He was impeccably dressed in a white shirt with a button up vest that was almost gold in colour, shimmering in the afternoon sun. From the looks of his attire he surely came from money. As his head turned to the side you noted he had a lovely profile and the rest of his facial features were mostly symmetrical. Lucky bastard, you knew many people who would kill for the natural beauty he so effortlessly possessed, the type of beauty that simply couldn’t be bought. However, the small signs of weariness did not escape you as his eyes took in your little shop. Finally, they landed on you and strangely you felt the need to squirm.

“Good evening, sir,” you greeted politely, wondering if he would be entitled like most of the good looking, rich folk.

He stepped up to the counter. “I hope I’m not keeping you, am I? If it’s too late, that's alright. Though it would be a shame, I’ve been told very good things about this place and I’m exhausted.” His jacket was slung over one arm, hair wind ruffled and a pair of thin wire glasses balanced upon his well-set central nose. It wasn’t unusual for wealthy people to pass through this coastal town on their travels, though they rarely came this late to the bakery.

“No no, I’m not one to turn away a valued customer, what can I get for you?”

“Coffee please, I’m dead on my feet and I need to stay awake for a little longer.”

You nodded, well practiced hands already beginning to brew his drink. “Long journey? I take it you’re not from around here, and we do get a lot of travellers.”

“Very observant, Miss. I’ve just arrived to manage the large branch of my father’s shipping company that’s located in this coastal town. I was told it had very pretty scenery, but nobody told me it also has very pretty bakers here.” He remarked with a sly grin and you almost lost your grip on the coffee cup at his brazen compliment. He chuckled softly at your lack of response, not wanting to make you too flustered. “May I sit?”

“O-Oh, yes. Of course,” you stammered, kicking yourself for your stuttering. You were normally a fairly confident girl, yet all it takes is one handsome stranger to reduce you to this? Get a grip. He bowed softly in thanks, before turning and draping his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. You found your line of sight wandering down his back to the behind of his well tailored suit pants. The ladies in the town are going to eat him alive in the morning, he’ll soon forget about you and this little place. Yet, you found yourself slipping a small vanilla slice onto the plate beside his cup as a little welcome gift, adamant that you weren’t trying to impress him.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding more than a little tired. Incapable of thinking up a coherent response you bow quickly, spotting the fingerprints all over the glass of the display cabinet and set to work cleaning them. A soft groan makes you whip your head back around to look at him, did he get hurt? What if you made his coffee too hot and he burned himself or his tongue? His face was scrunched up almost as if he was in pain and he licked his lips a few times, seeing them moisten from his tongue caused you to swallow hard.

“Oh wow - this, is this vanilla?” He suddenly asked, and your eyes widened, he seemed more alert and staring at you now that his cup was empty. “I’m more of a dark chocolate person but my my, this is delectable. Normally I don’t drink coffee, but given how exhausted I was it was welcomed. The sweetness of the vanilla balanced it out perfectly, thank you. How much is it?”

“Oh no! The slice is on the house, consider it a little welcome to town gift,” you insisted.

His sweet expression faltered and he tutted, standing slowly and gathering his things. “If you aren’t going to tell me then I suppose this will have to do,” he sighed, pulling out a note far too large for the price of any of the little pastries in your shop from his wallet. You gasped and went to grab it and give it back to him, but he snatched it away before his other hand captured yours and the money was pressed into your palm along with...something else? Before you could think of what it might be, he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back.“It was lovely to meet you, Miss...?”

“Oh, um. Y/N.”

“Y/N...what a beautiful name.” With that he left the bakery, disappearing into the dust pink evening, the little bell attached to the door softly jingling. You realised your hands were trembling from the press of his petal-soft lips, and when you opened your palm to look at the money there was also a small white flower. A gardenia? Where did he get that from?You hadn’t seen any around town.

You picked up the slightly dried-out flower from a few days ago, twirling it in your fingers and smiling when you could smell it still held a strong aroma. The fresh one from this afternoon was still in your apron pocket, and you fished it out from the washing basket gently, trying not to damage the petals. An idea popped into your head for scent bags, and you jumped up to rummage through your shop supplies for a brown paper gift bag.

It hung in your wardrobe nicely, and would make your clothes smell lovely. He’d only given you two, but maybe he was going to bring one every time? Where were they even coming from? He- you stopped your little tangent of thoughts, cursing yourself for getting so hopeful. Surely he pulled that trick with every young woman he met. You weren’t going to lie, the second time he left you a flower you got your hopes up. But the amount of women who walked about the town with a flower in their delicate gloved hand gave you your doubts.

As a distraction you threw yourself into your work, finalising the ingredient lists, accounts, designs and much more for the wedding cake and patisseries. Your mood was lifted somewhat, after all, that was your passion. Many days as a child you had helped your grandmother in her little kitchen. You reminisced back to the days where she taught you the secret recipe for her pumpkin scones, now one of your bestsellers.

Some time later you decided enough was enough, as your eyes grew heavier and increasingly difficult to keep open. The rest of your work could wait until tomorrow and you gladly flopped down on your awaiting bed, resting your stinging eyes for five minutes. The lamp on your bedside table casted a soft glow about the room, and you didn’t remember drifting off to sleep.

Soft chirping met your ears, muffled on one side where your face snuggled into the pillow. You groaned when something wet and feather light brushed against your cheek a few times. A louder, more piercing meow made you crack your eyes open to meet large green ones, a rumbling purr starting.

“Morning, Jiji.”

Your limbs were stiff and aching, you almost thought they might creak like the old wood of your floorboards if you were to stretch a little too hard. A huff of discomfort left your lips, annoyed at yourself for nodding off so easily without washing or even brushing your teeth. As you rose from the double bed in your small yet comfortable upstairs flat, your muscles protested but you gripped the ensuite bench for support, working hunched over your coffee table for long periods of time never ended well. However, it’s where you seemed most focused. Wincing when you took in your unruly hair and puffy under eyes in the mirror. Nonetheless, it was nothing a warm shower couldn’t fix.

The steaming hot water ran over your shoulders and felt like heaven, relaxing the tension and chasing away that early morning chill that was only just leaving as spring fully came around.You lathered a generous amount of shampoo and your favourite sweet smelling conditioner which you only used for special occasions, such as if you were going to bump into a certain special someone today.

Loud meows came from outside your bathroom, only increasing in volume as you cracked the door open, still toweling off your damp locks. “Okay okay, at least let me get dressed first. Stop acting like you’re going to starve, I actually think you’re getting a bit fat Jiji,” you mused as you finished pulling the dress over your head. Your eager feline bounded into the kitchen, and you went to follow only to jump in fright as you entered the living room.

Curled up on the couch that was a little too short for him was a fast asleep Jungkook, looking so peaceful with his cheek squished against one of your too hard decorative pillows. Jiji trotted over to the couch, jumping up without a care in the world and sniffed at his face. Jungkook’s nose wrinkled at the wet ticklish sensation, cracking his eyes open and moving to sit up. When he spotted you looking at him through half asleep eyes, he froze. You quickly thanked the heavens you hadn’t walked into your living room without any clothes on as you sometimes do.

“Did your bicycle chain snap again, Kook?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the hair on one side of his head sticking up, not looking you in the eye as he nodded sheepishly. You sighed, this was the third time now and you were becoming angry with the repairs shop. “That’s it, I’m buying you a new one or something, anything would be better. I know you’re attached to that thing but it’s so old now. I just don’t want you getting stranded,” you fussed softly, pinching his chin and making him look at you. “Now go wash up while I make us some breakfast. There’s some clean clothes of yours in the laundry that you never took home, you can change into those.”

“Thank you noona, really.” He beamed, pulling you in for a warm hug that instantly had you melting into his embrace. Your hand found its way into the back of his long dark brown locks, scratching his scalp softly drawing a shiver from his large frame. Unconsciously his arms tightened around you and you let out a soft noise, causing Jungkook to release you instantly. He murmured a soft apology, scrambling downstairs to the laundry. You laughed to yourself at how funny he could be sometimes, blissfully unaware at the fact that he was running away so you wouldn’t spot the rapidly growing tent in his pants.

A short while later he emerged from your bathroom, still shivering slightly from the cold water but he was feeling extra refreshed. The appetizing smell of whatever you were cooking wafted into his nostrils and he plopped down at the kitchen table while toweling off his wet hair. His eyes followed your figure as you moved about the kitchen, and the domesticity of it all made his heart flutter. How he wished things would be like this every morning.

He knew he was staring again, openly admiring your side profile and his eyes couldn’t help the way they trailed further down. You had a little stomach from all the sweet things you sampled, and Jungkook sometimes couldn’t help the way he stared at your hands smoothing over your apron. His mind wandered until he was imagining how beautiful you’d look pregnant with his baby. His cock twitched in his trousers at the mental image of your belly swollen as you squirmed naked on soft white sheets, whining softly for him to fill y-

“...Kook? Jungkook!” You yelled out, waving a wooden spoon in his direction and his jaw snapped shut and he sat up straighter. “There you are, you sure do zone out a lot, don’t you? For the third time, can you set the table please?” He stood up a little too quick almost causing the chair to topple over, and you laughed softly. He was an odd one alright. “Must be interesting things you’re daydreaming about,” you mused while serving the eggs onto the plates, and it was a good thing your back was turned or you might have seen the way Jungkook almost dropped the cutlery all over the floor.

Later that day you were busy finishing up with another customer, carefully placing the cakes you had finished icing this morning into her basket.

“Fourteen gold pieces, please. I hope the party goes well, I can’t believe he’s seven already,” you remarked as you placed the coins into the blue register. The two of you gushed over her adorable son, who peeked at you over the top of the counter, and you quietly slipped him a small cookie while his mother wasn’t looking. He shyly thanked you, and you were so enraptured in his chubby little cheeks that you didn’t notice the way all conversations around the bakery fell silent for a moment. The little bell on the door rung, signifying someone had entered and you noticed the movement in the corner of your eye but ignored it in favour of waving goodbye to the little boy. He waved cheerfully in return, a small bite already taken from the biscuit, his other hand clasped in his mother’s and you sighed. Children were something you’d wanted for a while, but you tried not to dwell on it as you wiped away the crumbs left on the counter.

After a moment you grabbed your notepad from the pocket of your apron, rounding the counter and making your way to the table where the new patron had seated themselves moments ago. However, you stopped abruptly when you recognised him as the man who had left you the flower not long ago. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his profile. He settled into his chair, leaning back and hooked an ankle over his knee so his legs were comfortably crossed, and the movement accentuated the slight bulge of his crotch.

He placed a book on his lap and flicked through the pages, his hand coming up to adjust the thin wire spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose which had slipped a little, and from where you were standing you could see he had a little freckle on the tip. What was it with handsome men and having a cute little freckle? Jungkook had one under his lip which he often grumbled about being there, but you often told him it was rather endearing.

His tongue darted out to wet the tip of his finger and he smoothly flipped the page, the movement definitely drew your eye. Fuck, even his hands were beautiful, now you were nervous and your feet seemingly glued on the spot. The tip of your pen tapped against your little notepad, leaving small dots on the paper and you muttered angrily at your fidgeting. What were you so nervous for? He was just another customer, he never even told you his name. You took a tiny step forward, only to stop when you saw a young lady take a seat opposite him.

Large doe-like eyes suddenly stopped in front of you, Jungkook’s mouth parted as he stared at you in confusion, that freckle now right in front of your eyes. “Noona? Are you okay?” He asked, a hint of concern evident in his tone. Your eyes dropped as you snapped out of your slight stuper, only to land on the swell of his bicep as he carried a tray filled with freshly baked bread. God, what was wrong with you?

“Yeah of course! I just, um...realised something. Would you mind seeing if table four needs anything?” You risked a glance around Jungkook’s large frame, only to lock eyes with the man you’d just been staring at. The alluring chocolate colour of his eyes sent a jolt down your spine, and you jumped back behind your assistant. To make things less awkward you snatched the first thing that was in your sight as Jungkook moved away to place the tray down. You happened to grab the cloth you were just using thankfully, beginning to frantically wipe the side of the counter. God you were so stupid. Of course he was a complete flirt, he’d only been in town a few days and was already drawing in multiple women, yourself included, with his deceptive charm.

You picked up a basket to wipe away at the crumbs underneath, but as you were putting it down a throat cleared beside you. The leather shoes that came into your view looked expensive, and your stomach dropped. As you lifted your gaze the curious expression on his face made you suck in a tiny breath, and unable to look away you dropped the basket back onto the counter. Unfortunately, it was too close to the edge and began tipping over, he surged forward suddenly to attempt to steady it behind you, effectively pinning you against the counter with his form. You gasped when suddenly his cologne bombarded your senses with warm, spicy cinnamon and...apples? The likely expensive scent made your knees feel weak, and the warmth of his arms pressed into your sides had your heart racing. His efforts were in vain, however, as the basket toppled to the ground, and small bread rolls scattered across the floor.

The tip of his nose brushed against your scalp, and he hummed pleasantly. “Your hair smells lovely today, Miss (Y/N),” he observed, and you swear your heart was about to give out from how rapidly it was thundering in your chest. So he noticed.

“Oh, thank you Mr…”

“Taehyung. Mr. Kim if you please, but Taehyung will do just fine.” Even as he spoke ever so casually, he made no move to step back.

His gaze dropped to your heaving chest as you were breathless from the proximity and palpable tension. Suddenly, it occurred to you that the neckline you had picked today was rather low cut, the fabric around your bust a little strained with each breath you took.

You wanted to stay exactly where you were, quivering with excitement from being pressed right up against him. However, embarrassment got the better of you, a blush coming on strongly to your cheeks and you slipped out from the cage of his arms and kneeled to the ground. Thankfully, he couldn’t see your flushed state as you grabbed the pieces of scattered pastry. You felt unease rise within you when he crouched down beside you, dropping the bread back into the basket as well.

“Oh no, please don’t worry about that Mr. Kim. I can manage myself, besides this is my fault. Clumsy,” you scolded yourself quietly, shaking your head.

“No, it’s fine. I thought I might catch it but apparently my coordination is not as good as I thought,” he chuckled, silence filling the following moments as you continued to grab the bread. “You must keep pretty busy, huh? It’s a good thing you have your boyfriend to help you out.”

Your eyes widened at his assumption. “Oh-no no, Jungkook’s not-he’s not my boyfriend. Just my assistant,” you explained, feeling your cheeks heat up again as you avoided his gaze once the two of you were standing, no longer crawling around the floor. The counter was covered in crumbs and flakes from the bread and suddenly you were very interested in picking at them. “I’m far too old to be his girlfriend anyway.”

You couldn’t see the frown breaking out across Taehyung’s face, but as he opened his mouth to protest Jungkoook came striding over. “Noona, is everything okay? It’s not like you to drop good bread,” he questioned quietly, coming to stand just a little too close. The image of him acting like your guard dog came across your mind, hackles raised and ready to fight off any threats to his territory. You so wanted to be but you didn’t belong to either of them, they deserved much better. The young girl who was sitting with Taehyung only moments ago was looking over with concern at the tense atmosphere. Jungkook still stood uncomfortably close, silently challenging the man still standing in your personal space unabashedly.

“Yeah Kook, I’m good,” you replied, reaching out and gently patting his bicep. He looked at you suspiciously, not quite convinced but he nodded and slinked out the back anyway. Taehyung almost glared at Jungkook for another second before stepping back, however, he still stood quite close. Both of you hovered for a moment, you could sense he wanted to ask something. Not even a moment later, he did.

“The wedding this weekend, I was just wondering if you would be attending? Someone mentioned you were making the cake for it, among other pastries.”

“No,” you blurted out the obvious lie, all of a sudden taken aback by his question. Was he asking you out? The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you sensed another pair of eyes on you, coming from his table.

“Oh,” he muttered, looking a little dejected. “So...you won’t be there? They’re friends of my family actually, so I’ll be in attendance.”

“No, sorry. I have another engagement, but Jungkook will be there!” You reiterated, not sure why you were lying to him. His expression soured momentarily, and another patron wandered up to the unattended counter. You were thankful for a way out and hurried away from the awkward conversation. He fidgeted with the brass button on his creaseless vest for a moment before slumping back into his seat. The nerve of that man! He had another girl with him, watching the whole thing unfold and he had the disrespect to practically ignore her. She certainly was beautiful, just like him. Definitely the type of woman that was more suited to him, rather than something so ordinary like you.

Jungkook came past just as you finished up with another customer, but you flagged him down before he could escape. “Oh Jungkook! I actually have a favour to ask of you…”

Stupid. That’s what you were. You sulked about the catering room, plating the little pastries for after the reception desert taking place soon. While you had an unmeasurable and intense focus when it came to your work, your passion, right now you couldn’t help but be on edge. The knowledge that Taehyung was around somewhere had your stomach churning with anxiousness at the thought of running into him, after blatantly telling him you wouldn’t be here.

At least, it wasn’t entirely a lie. You really thought you weren’t going to be here as Jungkook had eagerly agreed to be in your place right now. Part of you wanted to test what he wouldn’t do for you. However, when he came to tell you he’d actually been offered some photography work tonight you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in his eye. That was something you couldn’t bear to take away from him. After you told him to accept the offer he halfheartedly protested, not wanting to disrupt your plans. But in truth you could tell he was disappointed he wouldn’t be able to go, and you weren’t having a bar of it.

So here you were, checking each iced flower on the tall wedding cake meticulously for any that had fallen off on the trip here. Every few seconds, however, you threw a glance over your shoulder for a certain Mr. Kim.

“Y/N!” Someone behind you exclaimed, the voice definitely male and you froze, slowly turning to prolong the inevitable. When the groom’s face was the only one you could see your shoulders slumped in relief and returned his smile. “It’s...it’s beautiful, thank you so much. You’ve made my fiance very happy. Oops, wife I should say!” He quickly corrected himself, cheeks flushed red no doubt from the champagne, the glass he held fully and freshly bubbling.

“It’s certainly my pleasure. While I love baking itself there’s something so special in seeing where my goods go,” you observed, peeking out into the main hall where everyone sat about finishing the main course. “However, my work here is done I think.”

Right as you finished speaking the bride wondered in looking for her now husband, the moment their eyes met a giddy smile broke out on both their faces. The action caused your heart to clench in your chest as she reached out and slotted her hand into his awaiting palm. He drew it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles and she looked away with a grin, suddenly noticing you standing there.

“Oh, Y/N! Are you leaving? Already? Won’t you stay for a drink?”

“I-um...maybe not.” You chewed on your lip. “I really must be going.”

“Just one drink, please?” She insisted, taking the glass from her husband and pushing it into your hand. When she pouted at you in such a way, it was hard to say otherwise.

Well... just one drink won’t hurt.

Two hours and definitely more than one glass of champagne later, you finally bade your farewell. A gust of chilly air rushed past you as you made your way outside, making you grip your arms where goosebumps were forming. God you wished you brought your jacket, how could you have forgotten? At least it was cooling down your cheeks which were flushed bright red and warm from the alcohol you’d had. There was no way you were driving home this evening, you’d have to call for a driver. Or perhaps you could walk as it wasn’t too far. Deciding the latter would be sufficient - and cheaper, not to mention - you set off in the direction of your bakery, weaving around the pedestrians on the footpath.

Other than the wind that picked up and drew a shiver from you, you began to think this wasn’t so bad - until your intoxicated form stumbled on an uneven paving stone. You hit someone square in the back, grabbing the back of their coat to steady yourself as you garbled a hundred apologies. By some miracle the man didn’t fall down and you thanked the heavens, only to take it back as he turned to look at your flustered face.

Low and behold, there stood the very man you were trying to avoid. Kim Taehyung.

“Miss (Y/L/N)? Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he said with a smirk, while embarrassment burned a hole right through you. “What brings you here?” Of course it was just your luck you’d bump into him - literally - right as you were almost out of there. He looked delectable as always, dressed head to toe in finely tailored clothing. His pants were pressed with a perfect crease down the middle of each leg, fine jacket fitting his broad shoulders perfectly. The hat he was wearing, however, captured your attention and you almost forgot he asked you something.

“Oh! I... um... well, you see, I-,” you managed to get out. Words! Use words you fool, you scolded yourself internally. Something about the man in front of you rendered you speechless, yet he only gave you a small smile and waited patiently for you to find your words, stepping back a bit and slipping his hands into his pockets.

Still, your mind remained blank. The hilarity of the situation hit you and a giggle bubbled forth from your lips. You smacked your hand over your mouth, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth from the numerous glasses of champagne you’d downed. Taehyung looked at you with an endearingly curious expression, brows furrowing with a chuckle.

“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” He asked quirking an eyebrow, the fact that you failed to answer him did not go unnoticed. You tried to speak but only more laughs came out until your shoulders were shaking with the action, tears welling in your eyes.

“Your hat is very funny, why is it so strange? It’s lopsided, and flat. What’s this little thing on top?” You reached up to flick at it, not realising how close you had gotten until you softly bumped into his solid frame.

“Woah, easy there (Y/N).” The words were whispered huskily right into your ear as he steadied you, and you found yourself trembling from his touch as you were caught off guard. “Wouldn't want you to trip and hurt yourself, now would we?”

“N-No, of course not,” you replied, flustered and he eyed you carefully. After a moment he released your arms to shuck off his jacket, and before you could blink it was dropped around your shoulders. The material felt expensive and warm and the delicious smell of his cologne filled your senses, the spicy scent of toasted cinnamon causing you to turn to putty.

“It’s cold tonight,” he observed, looking up to the cloudless sky. You followed his gaze, admiring all the bright stars twinkling in the twilight. This moment was something you wanted to treasure forever, where you stood thinking about nothing but now nice the sky looked and a beautiful man had offered you his jacket to keep you warm. Alas, it had to end eventually. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

His words brought you rushing back to reality, and you looked at him suddenly. “Oh, I was just going to walk but I can call for a driver it’s fine, rea-”

One stern look from him had you shrinking back into the jacket, he was not taking no for an answer and you nodded sheepishly. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention as a cold shiver gripped your bones, only intensified by an icy gust of wind. His hand slid across your shoulders, pulling you into his warm side as he guided you in the direction of where he must be parked.

Being the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger seat door for you, and once you were safely in he slipped into the driver's seat. There was a long stretch of comfortable silence as he started the ignition and smoothly pulled out onto the road, his hand not on the steering wheel resting dangerously close to your thigh.

“The hat, it’s called a beret. My younger sister bought it for me while she was studying in France, I should have introduced her the other day.”

“The... other day? Have I seen her before?”

“Yes, in the bakery when our little... accident happened,” he reminisced with a small chuckle, once again finding amusement in your embarrassment.

Suddenly it dawned on you, the young girl he was sitting with when he came over to talk to you. That was his little sister. You were glad he didn’t, seeming as though you’d just made an absolute fool out of yourself in front of her. No wonder she looked so beautiful, they came from the same pool of blessed genes. Silence filled the rest of the journey, and before you knew it the car was no longer moving, Taehyung was opening your door for you again and you stepped out.

The heavy material of his jacket slipped from your shoulders and you handed it back to him as another chilly gust swept past. He accepted it gratefully, putting it back on immediately and shoving his hands back into his pockets. Well, it was now or never you decided.

“Would you… like to come in for a drink?” You offered before you could psych yourself out.

“I don’t really…” he trailed off and immediately you feared you had been too bold.

“Oh. That’s fine, no trouble at all,” you murmured dejectedly.

“I mean, I don’t drink alcohol. Not if I can help it, I don’t find the taste very pleasant. That and I don’t hold myself well. Some tea would be much appreciated, though,” he proposed.

“Yes… yes, of course. It would be nice to warm up a little.” Uncertainty hung in the air, looming over your head for a moment too long before he nodded.

“That would be very nice, thank you.”

Your hands fumbled with the keys, loud jingling making you wince as you missed the lock a few times. At this point you’d sobered up quite quickly, the shake of your hand being caused by your nerves betraying you instead of the champagne. It had been quite a good hour since your last glass and you were no longer feeling the effects. Taehyung’s warm hand closed over yours, steadying your shaking fingers and your breath hitched as the metal key slid smoothly into the lock. It was relatively dark and you were glad only the faint light of the streetlamp guided you as you cracked the door open, trembling in anticipation of what was to come. The two of you slipped inside the dark bakery, shoulders brushing as you turned to shut the door and lock it behind you.

“So… what do you fancy?” You asked, turning to look at his figure which looked all the more enticing half in the shadows. “A cup of tea? Some chocolate croissants, perhaps?”

He only shook his head slowly, taking a step toward you. “What do I fancy, you ask? Well...you.”

“M-me?” You asked, your insides doing a flip in excitement.

“Yes. You like croissants? I bet you’d love Paris, so many incredible pastry chefs there, among… other things.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a very romantic place, I could take you one day? I’d like that… ” he trailed off and you blinked quickly, unable to look away from his gaze.

“Not just for the pastries?”

“Not just for the pastries, petal.”

He backed you up against the now locked door, eyes piercing yours with an intensity that made your abdomen clench; however, there was something else in his eyes. Something softer, and you felt that sweetness in the way he ever so slowly pressed against you. The first brush of his lips against yours was not hurried and needy like you expected it to be, and when he pulled away you felt an ache in your heart so strong it left you breathless.

“Taehyung…” you whispered, breaths beginning to grow heavier as your nerves dissipated to be replaced by lust and longing. He whispered your name back, before sweetly capturing your lips once more, his tongue demanding entrance to explore your mouth which you easily granted. Your fingers fisted in the lapels of his jacket, creases forming in the perfectly ironed material as the feeling of his tongue forcing yours into submission drew a moan from you. A large hand cupped the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself as he pressed you harder against the door, the kiss growing hungrier with each lave of the hot, wet muscle. You guided him back, shuffling blindly around, neither of you daring to interrupt your locked lips or even take a breath. Your back bumped into the counter and finally you broke apart for air, looking at your surroundings, somehow you’d ended up behind the bakery counter.

Taehyung’s hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush to him, and the action drew a gasp from you as you were pressed right up against his solid, throbbing length. The searing heat of it could be felt even through the layers of clothing that still separated your flesh, and your pelvic floor clenched around nothing in retaliation. Suddenly his hold on you tightened and he hoisted you smoothly onto the counter with very little effort. Now that you were at his level he wasted no time in getting right back into it.

“I wondered why it is that you haven’t been swooped up by anybody yet,” he mused between the breathless kisses you’d been enraptured in, fingers still gripping at your soft flesh through the thin material of your dress.

“There are plenty of other-mmf, pretty and young women in this town, certainly more attractive than I am. Why me?” you whispered against his lips, still pinching yourself that this was really happening. God, it’s been so long since you’d been with a man. His kisses trailed down your jaw, the warmth of his lips pressing into your sensitive neck.

“Hmm, I suppose,” he hummed, pausing to nibble on the spot just below your ear and you tipped your head back to allow him easier access. “They are very much like flowers, blossoming under the male attention they so desperately crave. They’re only pretty to look at, but that’s it. They might as well be just an accessory. Whereas you, sweet thing, are so much more.”

“B-But... I’m a bit older than you. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Not at all, I really don’t give a shit noona. If that’s something that really matters to people, then they’re shallow and can’t see past something that’s really not that significant.” He growled right into the shell of your ear, his nimble fingers finding the easiest way to remove your dress. You thanked the heavens that you normally close the blinds when you lock up, because Taehyung made quick work of stripping your clothes from your body.

You slid off the counter to kick off the garments that had pooled around your hips, throwing them away into an unknown corner of your shop. Goosebumps arose across your bare skin, and Taehyung’s seized the soft flesh of your hips, hand kneading and moulding, pulling you flush against his hardened cock. He was so warm, and he let out a strangled groan as you reached down to palm him over his trousers. At your coaxing, his cock only seemed to swell further, impossibly large now and he rocked in your hand for friction. The tug on his foreskin only made him moan more, and you were enjoying the way he let his guard down. His mouth found its way to your bare shoulder, sucking pink marks along your neck and collarbone so he quieted somewhat.

You whimpered when his hands moved down to grab the globes of your ass, groping them and pulling the cheeks apart. Cool air hit your dripping centre and you whined louder, clenching around nothing again. Taehyung relinquished your neck to stand to his full height, smirking at your flushed and needy expression. His eyes trailed down to drink in your naked skin, but he was still fully clothed. Feeling a little exposed, you moved to cover up your bare body. After all, you had a sweet tooth and you did pack a few extra pounds as a result of that. Most of the time you didn’t care, however, in this moment you were particularly caught off guard and feeling a little self conscious.

“Uh uh uh, I don’t think so sweetheart,” Taehyung purred, grabbing your hands that were snaking up your torso. “Don’t you dare hide yourself from me, not when you’re this beautiful.” He hoisted you back up onto the counter hastily, almost knocking over the jars of toppings and chocolate syrups you had left there. His hand snatched the glass bottle that almost fell, and he smirked like the cat that got the cream. “Caught it this time.”

Without warning he dropped the bottle on the bench and swooped down. His mouth closed over your nipple, hot and wet and you moaned at the feeling, hands coming up to bury themselves in his golden curls. Taehyung nipped and swirled his tongue around the peak with a growl that grew louder the harder you pulled on his hair, giving you no warning before switching over to the other one. Lithe fingers snaked up to pinch and twist your spit-slicked nipple, making you squirm underneath him. Now that both aching peaks were being lavished with attention you squirmed, no lover had ever spoiled you this much and it made you all the more eager to touch him too.

Your hands gripped at the lapels on his expensive jacket, uncaring if it would tear as you attempted to push it off his wide shoulders. He laughed softly against your chest as you whined, straightening up to slowly shuck the garment from himself, never taking his eyes off your heaving chest that was shiny from his ministrations. He peeled off his top half, tugging at his dress shirt until each button popped open slowly revealing smooth honey toned skin to your hungry eyes. Your fingertips reached out to smooth over his chest, bringing little goosebumps to the surface. He had such a lovely body, his pecs firm and full, yet the most delicate and defined collarbones you’d seen on a man. Taehyung’s shoulders were broad with a thick, vascular neck you just wanted to sink your teeth into, and to top it all off his jawline was chiseled like a work of art. Your palms trailed higher and you sat up so you could run them over the expanse of his shoulders and upper back. He shuddered at your ever so gentle touch; fingernails raking featherlight down his back, drawing a soft moan from his lips which you swallowed with your own. You dragged your nails over his hips and dipped the tip of your finger into his navel. He flinched at the action, his stomach clenching away. When you ran your palms over his abdomen he broke the kiss abruptly, turning his face to the side. He didn’t have the most defined stomach, yet you didn’t mind one bit.

“Taehyung, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of either,” you pressed a kiss into his jawline. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” you whispered into his skin. Except for Jungkook something in the back of your mind quipped back and a small sense of guilt arose within you. You knew he felt jealous of your interest in Taehyung, but that was something that could be dealt with another time.

The man standing in front of you turned back and pressed his lips to yours again, groaning when your hand slipped past the waistband of his underwear to grip his bare length. It throbbed as you gave it a few experimental strokes, satisfied at the way he let out an animalistic groan. His hand suddenly gripped your thigh, and he smothered you with his form until you had to let go of his length and lay back. His fingertips were likely leaving indents in your flesh but you didn’t care, not when he was so close to where you desired him most. “Please,” you whimpered breathlessly. His fingers parted your thighs, swearing softly when he touched your folds to instantly have his fingertips coated in your arousal. He paused, lifting them up to inspect them unabashed, drawing his fingers apart to look at the strings of slick.

“Fuck. You want me that badly, huh? Such a good girl, so wet and eager for me.” His words made you clench, and he definitely felt it as he lightly ran his fingers through your soaked folds, admiring the way they glistened. Taehyung easily sunk two fingers knuckle deep into your heat, crooking them to seek out that sweet bundle of nerves. Needing to feel his lips on yours again you whined while leaning forward, begging him with your eyes. Quickly he obligated, ever the attentive lover.

After a while your clit was throbbing, crying for his attention. He reached over into one of the jars next to the display cabinet, which you used to touch up any pastries that needed more powdered sugar. A generous amount gathered on the top of his thumb when he dipped it in, and before you could realise what he was doing that same thumb was planted firmly on your pearl of nerves.

“Taehyung! Mmf, oh my god. That feels so good but you’re gonna give me a yeast infection, fuck.”

“Mmm, not if I lick you clean.” He swooped down, tongue lapping at the now gooey sugar that had somewhat dissolved with your wetness. He suckled at your juices, tongue swiping through your folds against his fingers that were still buried before he trailed up to your clit. His lips pulled the little bud into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth, the nibbling teeth causing your hips to jump at the stimulation. God, his tongue felt like heaven and sin all at once, never before had anyone made you feel this good. Certainly, you’d been missing out in all your previous experiences. His hand reached out, grabbing the bottle of chocolate syrup you’d left on the counter, and he looked over to see what other sweet concoction he’d found.

“Mmm, perfect. Open wide sweetheart,” he smirked. Confused, you opened your mouth slightly to which he found most amusing. His fingers withdrew and you whimpered in complaint before your knees were gripped firmly and pushed apart, spreading your legs wide open for him to see. He drizzled a little of the chocolate syrup onto your glistening folds, a few drops sinking into your entrance. The bottle was quickly dropped onto the counter and his tongue was quick to follow the droplets, shoving the appendage deep into your pussy to chase any of the chocolate before it got away from him. “Fucking hell,” he groaned against your cunt, voice muffled. “This is definitely the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I feel like I could die right here.”

With each delve of his muscle you could feel your skin prickling with heat and anticipation or the climax that was beginning to build. Your neglected nub was once again attacked by lashes of his tongue as he pushed his fingers back in, now intent on watching you fall apart. “That’s it petal, good girl. Come for me, that’s it.”

Without mercy he suckled on your clit and your legs shook as that tension began to release, waves of pleasure spreading through your whole body. No noise came forth from your lips for a few seconds, however you quickly broke that silence and cried out loudly with each wave of your high, Taehyung’s fingers still thrusting to draw out your orgasm.

“Please,” you whimpered, looking up at him almost in tears.

“Please what? Use your words,” he growled, already pulling at his belt and letting his pants and underwear fall around his ankles. “What do you need, tell me sweetheart.”

“Need your cock. Please please Taehyung, I want it so bad.” His hand that was soaked with your juices reached down to fist his hardened length, a few drops of precum dripping onto your abdomen. He groaned loudly at the sight, at the way your eyes twinkled in want when you looked at his throbbing appendage. “I want… god I want to suck you off so bad, but I fucking need you. Now.”

The thought of it had him swearing softly, imagining you on your knees before him. He almost came there at the thought of sinking his cock in between your pretty lips, feeling the back of your warm, wet throat constricting him like the perfect girl you were. However, you looked so beautiful spread out across the counter, he’d rather keep you right where you were. Besides, he was so worked up, he really didn’t need your first impression to be of him finishing too early. “Another time, my sweet. Right now I just really need to be inside you.”

To emphasise his point, the head of his cock ran through your glistening folds, the friction on your clit causing your legs to twitch in overstimulation. “Kim Taehyung, if you don’t put your dick in me right n-oh!”

Your sentence turned into a gasp as the tip of his dick pushed at your entrance, and the first inch sunk in with a little resistance from how much your walls tried to clamp down, welcoming the intrusion. He bent down over the top of you, possessively capturing your lips with his as the rest of his length split your walls, sinking in to the hilt. It was like heaven, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered what being stretched by his girthy cock would feel like. As if he couldn’t be any more perfect, of course he had to be so well fucking endowed. It almost hurt how big he was, you noticed as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him. Almost.

Moments passed where both of you simply panted heavily, his face buried into the crook of your neck. “One second, just give me one second or I swear I’m gonna cum. You feel like fucking heaven, noona.” You nodded, incapable of coherent words in that blissful moment.

“Such beautiful tits,” he groaned as his mouth sucked marks across your collar bones, lips seeking out a peak to torment once more. “Tell me, sweet thing. Who’s tits are these?”

“Yours, Tae. Oh god, they’re all yours.” Came your breathy moan, the strands of his honeyed hair tickling your skin as he dragged his face over to the other nipple.

“Good girl,” he quipped. “What about this pussy, hm?” To emphasise his question he slowly pulled his length from where it was buried in your cunt, driving it back in with an even slower thrust that had you keening desperately at the delicious burn.

“Yours, yours! Just fuck me, please!”

“Well, since you’re such a good girl who asked so nicely…” After a second he straightened up, hands gripping your hips tightly as he withdrew only to bury himself in your cunt again, hips smacking into the flesh of your ass from the force of his thrust. Once he could tell you had adjusted comfortably to his size he picked up the speed, beginning a much faster pace, the sound of skin slapping filling the otherwise quiet bakery. You threw your head back over the counter, the slight feeling of blood rushing to your head making the sensations of Taehyung’s cock all the more intense.

Neither of you heard the key opening the door, nor saw the figure that froze in the entry, unable to see anything from outside due to the drawn curtains. Jungkook's eyes were wide much like a deer caught in the headlights, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin. Your heaving breasts looked deliciously perky with the way your head was thrown over the counter, noises he’d only ever dreamed of hearing spilling forth from your parted lips. His shocked expression soured, however, when he realised it was Taehyung standing between your spread legs, his cock plunging into your centre and making your face twist in ecstasy. You hadn’t realised he was there yet, eyes closed and still making little mewls with each of Taehyung’s thrusts, now deep and slow, almost teasing you. The elder looked up and simply smirked once their eyes locked, just who he’d been hoping for. Taehyung was the obvious alpha male, and he could see the way Jungkook’s pants were already straining.

“Mmm, harder... please,” you cried out, ankles locking around Taehyung’s waist so he couldn’t stop what he was doing.

“You want me to fuck you harder, noona? You know ever since the first time I saw you, I’ve fantasized about taking you nice and hard over this quaint little countertop. Have you, noona? Or perhaps you’d been too busy fantasizing about your little assistant, hm? You’d love to have him fuck you like this you dirty girl, isn’t that right? Answer me, or I’ll stop.” He teased, voice becoming a little strained with heavy breaths. His eyes were still locked on Jungkook, mocking the astounded boy.

“Oh god, yes. Fuck yes I’d love to have Kookie fuck his noona like this, oh fu-I think I’m gonna come again Tae.”

“Already? Are you gonna come thinking about Kookie?”

“Yes, hng-ughh Tae, and you! Gonna come, o-oh, because of you!” You cried, each syllable growing in volume the closer you grew to your orgasm.

“Go on noona, show me how much you love my cock,” he permitted, thumb coming back to your clit to pinch and rub the bundle of nerves, pushing you toward your climax. Right as you began to peak, he hooked your legs over his shoulders and began furiously pounding into you. The new angle and pace had you hurtling into a powerful, leg shaking orgasm which made Taehyung curse. You looked so beautiful, and you had a little audience for him to show off to. You were screaming so perfectly, perhaps you secretly knew Jungkook was watching the whole exchange.

When you came down from your high, panting and swearing softly he pressed a kiss to the inside of your leg. “You’re so pretty when you come, my lovely. Don’t you think so, Jungkook?”

Your eyes flew open to see an upside down, very shocked Jungkook. The two of you were at a standstill for a moment, before you quickly tried to sit up and cover yourself. Taehyung’s hand was gently pushing you to lie back down, he suddenly leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Noona, (Y/N) darling. Don’t you want sweet little Kookie to join us? You want to suck him off while I fuck you nicely, hmm?” His words sounded so sweet, and you clenched around him at the very thought. He chuckled, that was just about all the confirmation he needed. However, he waited until you nodded, not going ahead without your clear consent.

When Jungkook saw you nod, he was in complete disbelief. You wanted him? His length throbbed painfully in the confines of his pants, feeling so tight it might almost rip through the fabric. Despite being upside down, you could still clearly see the outline of the colossal bulge.

“Come here,” Taehyung barked, tutting in annoyance when the younger man still seemed to be rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. “Jeon, I suggest you move your ass if you want your dick sucked.” At his words Jungkook snapped out of his stupor, eagerly striding over to stand above you.

The younger man was impatiently undoing the buttons on his pants, pulling them down and grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head, forgoing the buttons altogether. His length sprung forth, already looking angrily red and leaking copious amounts of precum.

The temptation to taste him was too strong, and you stretched your neck to run your tongue along his dripping cock, pressing sloppy kisses, all the while looking up at him with innocent yet sultry eyes. He swore softly at the sight, pulling back to allow your lips to envelop the head of his cock, tongue swirling around his slit to gather the salty drops which kept leaking. He whimpered loudly, finally knowing what it felt like to sink his cock between his noona’s lips. You relaxed your gag reflex, eyes raking up his body. He was definitely a sight to behold, a sheen of sweat already glazing his glorious chest, making his abs - seriously, how did this boy have them - even more drool worthy. Although you were already drooling.

His eyes were glued to your mouth, and the way it easily took his cock with each gentle thrust, he was careful not to make you gag. Although, you had other ideas. Your hands sneaked up, gripping the flesh of his bare behind as you relaxed your throat, feeling his hips jerk as he slid in the rest of the way and bottomed out. He groaned, whole body shuddering in pleasure, unable to stop his hips from jerking forward to chase the euphoria he found between your lips. The rather hard thrust had you choking a little, eyes tearing up but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Jungkook was being so vocal, moaning and cursing so much you were sure anyone outside could hear. When you gagged again, inhaling deeply through your nose he pulled back, giving you a small reprieve and letting you breathe through your mouth. It was at the moment the man standing between your legs, who had been enjoying the show decided it was time to remind you of his presence.

You cried out sharply when Taehyung’s throbbing length buried itself into your sopping heat once again, the movement jolting you and causing Jungkook’s cock to sink back into your throat. He began to swear as both men thrust into you, using your body to get themselves off. Hungrily, like he thought he might never get the opportunity to witness this again, Jungkook’s eyes raked over your soft body. The way your breasts bounced with every thrust, nipples stiff and slick from his elder’s mouth. Then your wonderful thighs, rippling each time Taehyung drove his hips into them. Jungkook always knew you would have such a beautifully soft body, he just wanted to knead you with his hands and run his tongue over every inch, every curve you had. There was so much slick shining on the inside of your thighs, loud squelch noises from each time Tae’s cock pushed into you. He wasn’t going to last much longer, not with the way moaned and swirled your tongue around his length.

After a few minutes Taehyung could feel how you were clamping down on his cock again as it dragged against your sweet spot with each thrust, you were getting close once more. His own pleasure twisted sharply in his abdomen, tightening dangerously quickly. The pad of his thumb pressed down on your clit once more, rubbing furious circles to get you to finish before he did. “One more, I want you to come one more time for me, noona. For us.”

Your climax came to a peak and you squealed, Jungkook’s length popping out of your mouth to make way for the wails of pleasure as your legs shook. You reached out to pump him in your hand, and the sound of your moans as you came was all it took for Jungkook to swear and suddenly he was coming too. You took him back in your mouth quickly, grabbing his hips and pulling him so his cum spurted to the back of your throat.

“Fuck! Oh my-oh fucking hell noona, oh,” he all but yelled, whole body trembling as he climaxed.

Suddenly Taehyung could hold on no longer either, he stilled and you moaned louder as warmth flooded deep inside you as he came, your pussy clenching unconsciously at how good it all felt. Jungkook whined in overstimulation when he pulled out, but your lips drew the top of his cock back into your mouth to suckle at the remains of his salty release, the sensation of your tongue lapping against his frenulum almost too much for him.

He pulled out, your tongue licking your lips to collect any remains as you bathed in post orgasm bliss. Taehyung’s cock softened, slipping out of your swollen pussy as the three of you panted, catching your breath.

Jungkook leaned on the bench, looming over you and he flashed a hopeful smile. The same that made your heart flutter so innocently each morning, the slightest glimmer of potential for something more between you two. However, you’d just sucked him off while another man fucked you.

Now that the hazy headspace had cleared, embarrassment came forth unbridled and you couldn’t stand to be around a moment longer. You slipped off the counter, wobbly legs barely able to support you as you hastily picked up your clothes. It seems that Taehyung had the same idea as he was quickly dressed, buttoning up his shirt and snatching his jacket up off the floor.

“Well…” he began with, looking between the three of you. “Looks like you two have something to talk about. I’d best be going, see you around.” With that, he was out the door. Gone. It brought your memory back to the first time you’d met him, watching him walk out of the door. Things had been so much more simple then, when you weren’t sleeping with two men at once. You didn’t waste another second dwelling in the awkward tension between you and Jungkook as you rushed upstairs without another word.

The next three weeks were awkward to say the least. Conversation was somewhat scarce between both yourself and your assistant, and you feared you’d forever ruined your relationship with him. Jungkook was barely conversing with you, and whenever it was necessary he gave one word answers at best.

It was now that you realised he always used to say things such as let me do it, or I made extra of your favourite. It was in the small things, the everyday gestures that your feelings began to steadily blossom, nothing like the grand and unrealistic romance you so desired. Now Jungkook felt so far away, perhaps he despised you now. All because you had to be stupid and greedy, turning a blind eye to the blessing that was right in front of you all along and pursuing someone you have convinced you were good enough for.

Since that night, Taehyung had not been back to the bakery.

In fact, you had not heard from him at all. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t shed a tear or two over it, after how sweet he’d been in the beginning. The larger part of your conscience, the more irrational part urged you to wait around like a stupid damsel in distress. Hoping that maybe he would walk back in through that door with the little jingle of the bell and make you smile like the idiot you were, pretending nothing had ever gone wrong. But the more rational part wanted to beat that other part to a pulp, it was far more likely that he had been sweet, like honey for one reason. To lure you in like the silly little fly you were, walking right into his web. How many other girls had he been with in three weeks? Was that really his sister, or did he just tell that to women he’s luring in to make them let their guard down? Just like you had. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping, it was a perfect day, but strangely a little warm. Beads of sweat rolled down your temple, and you wiped them away with the back of your arm as your hands were covered in flour and dough. God, it was unusually warm this morning.

You turned around from your workstation, looking for your rolling pin on one of the other benches. Incidentally your eyes met Jungkook’s and his gaze darted away abruptly, pretending to also look for something. Guilt gnawed at you, knowing that you had caused his embarrassment. After all, you confessed you wanted him in the way he wanted you and then proceeded to mope after Taehyung, not looking at him twice.

You took your anger out on the innocent dough, squashing it angrily between your fingers absent mindedly. You kept muttering see you around in a mocking tone before realizing it was now over kneaded. Great, now you had a suitor on the run, an assistant that was giving you the silent treatment, and your bread would be flat and overly tough. At least your favourite apricot jam would make it taste better, and you couldn’t help craving another serving you mused as you cleaned the sticky dough from your hands.

The delicious smell of the fresh bread wafted from the racks where they rested, and you sought out a tray that had mostly cooled. When you pulled it out, resting the heavy tray on your chest as you normally did, you yelped and dropped it on the bench with a loud bang. The apple that Jungkook had been about to chop skidded across the floor as he dropped it and rushed over to you.

“Noona! Are you alright?! What happened?!”

You gritted your teeth and breathed in through your nose, wincing at how unusually sore your breasts were. Jungkook reached for your cheek, and his hands in your face smelled strongly of apple juice, almost burning your nostrils with its potency. Sudden nausea gripped at your stomach, twisting your insides and making you feel queasy. You pushed past Jungkook and sprinted up the stairs, hearing Jungkook’s heavy footsteps right behind you. You barely reached the bathroom before you fell to your knees, heaving over the toilet bowl to empty your stomach.

“(Y/N)!” A distressed Jungkook cried out from the doorway before crouching down, hands still incredibly gentle as they reached to sweep your hair out of the way. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?!” An answer didn’t make it past your lips however, only more of your breakfast. Jungkook was audibly panicked, but still rubbed comforting circles on your back as you continued to throw up. “That’s it, get it all out,” he murmured.

Your mouth tasted foul and as soon as you stood up you were reaching for your toothbrush. He was glued to your side, picking up a cloth to wipe away at the vomit that was on your chin, still asking a million questions. Embarrassed, you waved him away even though the tender action made your heart squeeze. So he still cared? “I’m fine Kook, I just don’t know why I’m throwing up all of a sudden, I didn’t eat anything that was off…”

He was still insistent on fussing, telling you to go to the doctor if you couldn’t explain your sudden illness. You wondered back into the bedroom, wracking your brain for any inclination as to why it might me, thinking of your symptoms. Your gaze landed on your little clock on your dresser which displayed the date, eyes widening when things began clicking into place. Your period was also a week late, you had sore breasts and morning sickness. You slapped a hand over your mouth muffling the distressed whine that left your lips, words not coming to you at the moment from the shock.

You were pregnant.

Jungkook tentatively touched your shoulder making both of you flinch as the initial shock wore off, and the harsh reality of it came crashing over you. Your eyes flickered to Jungkook’s wide ones, concern evident at the tears brimming in your eyes. “Noona? (Y/N)? What’s wrong? Why... Why are you crying?” God, he was so innocent sometimes, of course he hadn’t caught on yet.

“K-Kook,” you all but whimpered, voice breaking from the way your throat constricted in an attempt to hold back the sobs. “I-... I think I’m pregnant,” came your confession, barely audible, but Jungkook’s ears picked it up well enough. You could barely look him in the eyes, your own watery with tears and you sounded so defeated.

He crushed you to his chest, his arms enveloping your frame in a warm hug, and you never wanted him to let you go. The sobs came forth unbridled now and you buried your face into the crook of his neck, drenching his shirt with your tears.

“Is it really such a bad thing?” He whispered to you between shushes. “Noona, you know I’ll always stick by you, right? No matter what. I’ll be here even if that bastard isn’t,” he murmured and you trembled all the more from his sweet words.

You pulled back so you could look him in the eye, offering a weak and watery smile. “Oh Jungkook, I really don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” he chastised quickly, a warm thumb coming up to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks. “I really like you noona, like a lot.”

“I do too, Kookie. God, I’m so sorry,” you chuckled, pinching his dimple softly before burying your hand in your apron for a handkerchief. “I just thought, you know...you’d want to be with someone a bit closer to your a-”

Your words were cut off when Jungkook covered your mouth and nose with his own handkerchief, wiping away the snot and you had no doubt you looked a complete mess. Blubbering away and confessing your feelings to a younger man, knocked up by another.

“I don’t want to hear that, ever again. Okay? Besides I’ve been fantasizing about calling you my girlfriend for as long as I’ve been working for you. Do you have any idea how happy I am right now? I don’t care about not being the father of this child, as long as I have you by my side I know I can do anything.” He pecked your lips suddenly, prompting a brighter smile from you which warmed his heart to see you no longer upset about everything. You snaked your arm around the top of his shoulders, grinning as he brought your lips back together. You melted into his arms as you deepened the kiss, but he flinched back a bit.

“What? What’s wrong? Did I do someth-”

“No, nothing’s wrong it’s just...your mouth kinda tastes like vomit still. Sorry.” The two of you burst into laughter, a bit of lightness in the otherwise serious situation. You moved back into the bathroom to begin scrubbing your teeth clean while Jungkook, unable to relinquish you from his hands as if you’d disappear if he let go, kept rubbing comforting circles on your hips. He looked deep in thought. “I’ll get a hold of Taehyung, I promise. While I know you probably despise him right now, I think he has a right to know about the baby.”

Silently you nodded, uncertainty and nervousness swirling deep within your stomach. Jungkook was right, you should tell Taehyung but what would his reaction be? Would he be angry? God, he seemed so nice, so genuine. Maybe it really was just some elaborate plan to seduce you, how many other women had fallen prey to his charms you wondered. Perhaps this was not the first time a woman had tracked him down after being knocked u-

“(Y/N)? It’s alright, just don’t dwell on it okay?” His hands trailed up to rub your shoulders, drawing a long sigh from you. “We’ll make an appointment with the doctor first, yeah? Just to be sure. I’ll even come with you.”

You turned and buried your face into the crook of his neck again, so over the moon to have such support. You don’t know what you did to deserve this, to deserve him.

“Do you think people would mind if we opened… a bit late today?” You asked him, fingers creeping up his chest to play with his collar as you looked at him suggestively.

He wrapped his muscular arms around your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze. You whined at the action, causing your tender breasts to ache. In retaliation you reached down and groped the firm flesh of his behind. Instantly he bucked forward, seeking friction and pushing his quickly hardening length into your abdomen.

“You mean..” he gaped, beaming down at you with an expression so endearing and so excited it made you giddy. Firm hands found his chest, and you guided him back out of the bathroom and pushed him onto the bed, immediately tugging at the buttons on his work pants. His swollen cock sprung out immediately, already rock hard and dripping precum, so eager to finally bury itself in you completely.

He helped you to yank his trousers down quickly, shoes and all getting kicked off in a hurry. You swore you could hear his shirt tearing a little as he ripped it over his head, his hair becoming messed up in his haste Jungkook yanked you into his reach so he could strip you, much like a child at Christmas, uncaring about the poor wrapping paper and eager to get to his present. Fighting him would be useless with the way your eyes drank in his impressive physique.

Once you were completely bare you grabbed his shoulders, clambering on top of him and reaching between the two of you to grab his dick, running the leaking tip through your damp folds. As you sunk down a few inches you had to stop, the stretch from just how fat his cock was leaving you breathless for a moment. Tiny rocks up and down allowed your walls to adjust before you took a breath and bottomed out, Jungkook threw his head back, exposing his deliciously thick neck to your hungry eyes. The urge to mark it was far too strong, and you didn’t hesitate to bend forward to suckle on the skin, little red and purple marks blossoming.

You immediately got to work grinding your hips back and forth, only seeming to drive Jungkook even crazier. After a few minutes he pushed you to sit back up, the need to see your body again too much yet he couldn’t decide where to look. Your breasts swayed in his face with every rock of your body and it was so hard for him to resist bucking his hips upwards. The sight of your pussy lips swallowing every inch of his throbbing cock again and again was truly something to behold, and it felt a thousand times better. Or your beautiful face, contorted in the most blissful expressions, consumed by the pleasure. At a particularly loud moan you let out he thrusted up, grunting at the feeling of you clenching around him.

Jungkook seized your hips, planting his feet on the bed and began pounding his thick length into you without mercy. Caught off guard, you collapsed onto your hands at the sharp spike of pleasure in your belly, your cries muffled as you buried your face into Jungkook’s damp neck. He too smelled heavenly when you were this close, his natural woody musk overloading your senses with each sharp inhale of breath.

He sat up so you were face to face, the position rather intimate, but was quickly bending down to draw one of your nipples into his mouth, nipping softly. “Ah! Be g-gentle, please Kookie. They’re so sensitive right no-ow.”

“Mmm. Can’t wait ‘til they’re all heavy and swollen with milk, I bet you’d taste so sweet noona.” He practically growled, suddenly possessive at the thought.

“Kook! Oh my-oh god, harder. Please please harder baby. You gonna fuck your noona nice and hard?” You begged, running your fingers through the dark, curly locks on his head. Quickly he gripped your waist tighter and flipped you onto your back in an impressive show of strength, quick to re-acquaint you with the delicious stretch as his cock buried itself back inside you and resumed a brutal pace. He was a rather energetic lover it seemed.

“You feel so good noona, oh my god! Fuck I-I’m not gonna last much longer, not when I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Ugh, it’s okay baby. I’m mfph almost th-there, oh!”

Your arms anchored themselves on his broad shoulders as you jolted from the force of his thrusts, one hand snaking up to thread into the dark hair at the nape of his neck and he whined louder between laboured breaths. Right as he let out a long high pitched moan you felt his whole body tremble, warmth gushing deep in your abdomen as he came. However, Jungkook was ever the soldier and continued on slamming his hips into yours and you finally tipped over the edge. Your walls clenched and fluttered, eyes rolling back into your head. Yet he still continued even as you felt the sticky mess of his cum getting pushed deeper with each thrust, more still filling you. The sounds you were making must have been bothering the neighbours, slapping skin and cries of ecstasy. But neither of you could help it because it had felt like heaven. God, why hadn’t you done this earlier?

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided he dropped onto his forearms, cock going limp and slipping out of your abused pussy.

“Noona.” His chest heaved with his efforts but he couldn’t resist nuzzling into the crook of your now sweaty neck, and your heart clenched with the affection. “That was amazing, so much better than I ever could have imagined. Well...have been imagining.”

“Jungkook, baby,” you breathed, panting heavily. “I’d love to stay like this forever but I’m gonna dirty the sheets, can you grab me a washcloth from the bathroom please?”

He pecked your cheek and sprung up immediately, kicking off his pants that still clung to one leg so they wouldn’t trip him and headed toward the bathroom. Your eyes dropped to his bare behind and you all but drooled, it truly looked so much better without his pants obscuring the view.

“Or,” you began and he paused, turning back to you as you flipped on your side, attempting to strike a seductive pose. Rather it seemed he was the seductor, unknowingly posed like a Roman statue, his body half twisted in a way that accentuated all his best features while gravity accentuated your worst. However, his eyes raked over your figure, insatiable. “How about we just take a shower together? Save some water, hmm-oh Jungkook!” You squealed as he easily hoisted you up bridal style, pecking your lips.

“I think that sounds like a very good idea, shall we?” He asked, carrying you in the direction of the bathroom already sporting another semi.

Three weeks. You were three weeks pregnant, the life inside you so tiny yet had already become such a huge part of your life in just one day. Jungkook was still diligently stuck by your side, and earlier today he’d tried ringing Taehyung’s office to try and speak with him. However, he was told that the elder was not available. All that could be done was to leave a message with his secretary.

You pondered what he might say as the two of you walked arm in arm on your way home from the doctor’s office late in the afternoon. Again, two parts of you rationed with one another. He did just start a new job, perhaps that would explain his absence for almost a month.

Three days, the more rational part of you argued. It was a common rule you’d heard the women gush about over tea in your shop, that no suitor was too busy to contact you at some point in three days. If they didn’t then you simply weren’t a priority for them, not that it mattered anyway. You were loyal to Jungkook now, he was certainly a priority to you.

But there was something about Taehyung, the extent of his genuine nature was incredibly difficult to fabricate. It kept nagging at you in the back of your mind, to just wait, to give him the benefit of the doubt when he finally did come forward. Or maybe you were just being hormonal and making things up to comfort yourself. A distraction was what you needed.

You tipped your head back to breathe in the fresh air. The sky was dusted with a pretty pink and orange colour as the sun set, and you thought would make a nice picture.

“Oh, by the way. I never asked you about the job you got, taking photographs, did you have fun? It is what you came here for after all.” A heavy sigh followed from the man by your side, which definitely caught your attention. “Jungkook? What is it?”

“It was alright, I probably could have enjoyed it more. I just couldn’t help but feel really disappointed the whole time. I wanted to like it more but I just... couldn’t,” he trailed off with yet another deep sigh, his fourth this evening.

“What do you mean? Is it not what you want to do anymore?” You questioned, bringing your other hand to his arm to rub comforting circles. He shook his head, fumbling in his coat pocket for the keys and unlocking the door.

“No, it’s not what I want anymore. As a hobby I think it’s okay, but I’ve completely fallen in love with working here, with baking,” he paused before pushing the door open, turning back to you. “But most importantly, (Y/N). I’ve fallen in love with you. My beautiful noona.”

Your eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh, Jungkook. I-”

“You don’t have to say it back right away. Take all the time you need, I’d wait for you forever.”

He began to head inside but you grabbed his arm firmly, and he looked back at you with a startled expression. “I do, I absolutely do. The feelings, they’ve always been there but I’ve just been afraid to act on them. But... I do love you, more than you know.”

The pure expression of elation that spread across his face made your heart ache, and you just had to kiss it, to kiss him. He let out a little gasp of surprise when you grabbed his cheeks and pulled him to you, pressing your lips together. It was only when you let out a little shiver that he pulled away, ushering you inside and away from the nippy wind.

Now that you were significantly warmer you let out a long yawn, fatigue making your eyelids feel heavy. Jungkook pulled you to him again, pressing a kiss against your hair, the action would never cease to make your heart flutter. “I’ll lock up, you go upstairs to bed noona. I love you,”

“Goodnight Jungkook, I love you too,” you murmured back sleepily with a smile. Reluctantly you slipped out of his warm arms, making the treacherously long haul up to the first floor where your dwelling resided. Once he was sure you’d safely made it up the stairs, he fished around in his pocket for the keys, turning around to lock the door. However, he froze at the figure who stood looming in the doorway.

Taehyung.

You awoke later to the other side of the bed cold and empty, the feeling of a rough tongue licking at your cheek.You stirred with a groan, waiting for the grogginess to subside while you waved your cat away, hearing him pounce onto the floor and out into the kitchen. His demands to be fed grew louder and louder until you simply couldn’t ignore him, and you dragged yourself out of bed to the empty kitchen. Once Jiji’s bowl was filled and he was happily eating you noticed how quiet it was. That’s strange, where was Jungkook?

The clinking of silverware and a light on downstairs caught your attention. You scratched the back of your head in thought as you made your way down into the back room, but when you emerged at the bottom of the stairs you froze.

“Noona!” Jungkook suddenly exclaimed, rushing forth and the loud scrape of the chairs as both men shot up caused you to jump a little. You put our hand out to stop him approaching and he paused, your shock only grew when you noticed Jungkook was sporting a black eye, and he squirmed on the spot while you gawked at him. While you were concerned, you had something - well someone - more important to address. “Um… Taehyung is back… ”

“I noticed, Jungkook,” you gritted, trying to keep a strong front in front of them.

Moisture sprung to your eyes and it made Taehyung’s heart clench, seeing you look so similar to a cornered animal. One wrong move and you would likely bolt back up the stairs. You were frustrated with yourself because you didn’t expect to cry immediately, but seeing the father of your unborn child proved to affect you more than you thought it would.

“(Y/N)... ” He began, taking a small step toward you, his arms reaching out with the urge to comfort you. However, you gave him a dirty look which had Taehyung quickly retracting and not coming any closer. “I know you’re upset… and angry… and confused-”

“Correct,” you quipped.

“But there’s an explanation, I promise,” he pleaded, waiting with baited breath before you crossed your arms and gave a tiny nod heavy with trepidation. “I wanted to come and see you personally the following morning, believe me I truly did. But something happened with my father and the company, I had to go overseas urgently.”

“For almost a month? You couldn’t have at least written to me? A telegram? Even a goddamn smoke signal was too much effort for you?”

“I did! I wrote you a letter and left it here early in the morning before I left, I even put my return address on it so you could write back to me while I was away. I was waiting to hear from you, and the whole time I thought you’d gotten my letter and didn’t want to see me anymore, because of Jungkook.”

A tiny twinge of guilt arose within you, your gut instinct had been right. He had tried to do the right thing. “I’m sorry Taehyung, I didn’t get any letter from you.” You truly were apologetic, a part of you now wished that things had played out differently and you’d given him a chance. But you couldn’t change the past now, and Jungkook was rooted firmly in your heart. Besides, if you had to choose between the two, you’re sure you would never be able to come to a decision.

“I apologise for leaving so quickly that day, but I needed some time to think as it wasn’t just the two of us anymore. A third party had become...involved. But before I could see you in person again I had to go. Hopefully you’ll accept this,” he trailed off, gesturing to a small box on the table. Gingerly you slipped past him to pick it up, gasping when a small glass flower was inside. “When I was in Paris, I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you and the first time we met. Finally I got you a flower that won’t wither away and die.”

“Taehyung...it’s lovely, but I don’t really think it’s appropriate for me to accept gifts like this from you anymore. I love Jungkook now. Any contribution from you from now on should be for the b-” You stopped your words suddenly, did Jungkook tell him yet?

“The baby? My...baby. Yes. Jungkook told me.” His eyes flickered down to your stomach. “Oh (Y/N), I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’ll support you one hundred percent, I should have been more careful.”

“Well… we should have been more careful. But you’re not mad?” You questioned, chewing on your lip nervously.

“What?! Why would I be mad at you? I… God I just want to touch your stomach so bad. Can I? Please?” He practically begged, and you felt a laugh bubble up against your will. You’d never seen him pout before. Gently you grabbed his hand, guiding his large palm against the flat of your abdomen and unintentionally pulling him closer. At his proximity your heart rate picked up, old feelings stirring at the warm cinnamon you could smell on him. No, you couldn’t think of him that way anymore.

You diverted your gaze, instead making eye contact with your lover Jungkook while Taehyung rubbed soft circles on your stomach. Things would be… unconventional from now on, to say the least.

“I just...don’t want to miss out on this,” Taehyung whispered. “Watching your belly grow, feeling the little kicks. I don’t have a child yet, and I’ve always been so excited to be a father. But it’s a shame things turned out this way…”

“Which is why we wanted to talk to you (Y/N).” Jungkook suddenly piped up, having been unusually quiet and relaxed this whole time. “Hyung… I mean Taehyung and I have been speaking all night.”

“I got the message from him and came to see you as soon as I got back, only to watch you kiss him instead. I must admit I was incredibly jealous and originally I planned on talking calmly, but that’s not quite what happened. We started fighting, and then we started... kissing.” He admitted, looking slightly abashed. You, however, were utterly shocked and kept looking between the two trying to imagine such a thing.

“Wait...what?! You two kissed? Each other?”

“Well, yes and then it escalated.” Taehyung murmured with a smirk, peering over to Jungkook. He looked nervous, his hand coming up to touch the back of his neck. That’s when you saw it, many more marks peeking out from under his collar than what you’d left on him. “One thing turned into another and, we ended up having sex. Your table is wobbly now, sorry about that, but this kid’s stamina is no joke.”

Your jaw almost hit the ground, a whole mix of different emotions hitting you. The first being sorrow and betrayal, tears once more beginning to well in your eyes. But you quickly felt yourself growing angry, after all your partner had technically cheated on you with another man.

“Jeon Jungkook, you treacherous whore,” you snarled, rubbing your temples at the headache this confusion was bringing you. “I just have one question...why? I thought you two hated one another.”

“We just couldn’t see past the jealousy we both had over you. But once we actually started getting to know one another a bit more, we actually realised we have a lot in common and are willing to explore that further.” Jungkook explained. “I think the three of us could make it work, that way everyone is happy.”

“You mean… we’d all be together? You’re both okay with that? You actually like each other?” You questioned, to which they smiled and nodded. On the one hand, you would get to have what you’d secretly desired which was both men at the same time. The idea had your heart skipping a beat with excitement, thinking about all the sweet words they’d say, and soft mornings you’d share. How well you’d be taken care of, in many ways. But what if things didn’t work out? What if they grew too jealous and the relationship deteriorated? Apprehension weighed heavily in the air. However, if you never even gave it a shot you would never know what could have been.

“Noona? Do you need more time to think about it?” Taehyung asked gently. Did you? You looked up at both of them, their soft gazes making you feel like the most treasured woman in the world. Ever so subtly their hands brushed together, fingers intertwining. Something in your gut told you this was the right thing to do, and you reached up to take a hand in one of theirs.

“I’m willing to try.” You told them, biting your lip to soften the huge grin.

“Really?!” They both exclaimed in unison, eyes wide and you were suddenly tugged into their embrace. Uncontrollable giggles consumed you, and you pecked each of them on the lips.

“I have a feeling the three of us will go together like sugar, spice and everything nice.”

It was still rather early in the morning, the sun only very faintly peeking through the curtains in your bedroom window. Still, your body was beginning to make its demands known no matter what time it may be. Jungkook was warm against your back, his arm slung over your waist, and you couldn’t stop the way you squirmed and panted softly. God, you had woken up so aroused it was almost painful. At your excessive movement he pulled you tighter to him, and you gasped at the feeling of his morning erection pressing against the soft flesh of your behind. He grumbled something unintelligible into your neck but you didn’t care, you needed him right now.

“Jungkook,” you whined, turning to face him a little more. “Please baby, please.”

“Oh?” He definitely heard you loud and clear as he raised his head, but before he could even say more you threw your leg over his hip and began grinding your sopping apex against his clothed length. The angle was awkward but you didn’t care as it provided some well needed friction.

Immediately his hands gripped at your swollen breasts, fingers pinching your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your nightgown, and you cried out from the sudden pleasure. “God,” he growled in your ear. “You need me that much, huh? Can’t even wait until Tae gets here?”

“No, I can’t wait. I need you right fucking now Kookie, please.” There was desperation in your tone now, and you sounded like you were on the verge of tears.

“Alright noona, of course. You know I could never say no to you,” he whispered into your cheek, pressing a soft kiss there. His hands travelled further down your body, smoothing over your swollen tummy like he always loved doing. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, aren’t you? So desperate for me, begging to be stuffed full of cock. I can’t wait until I can fill you up with my cum and get you nice and pregnant again, with my baby.”

You rolled over onto your knees, propping your weight on your forearms. Jungkook groaned at the sight it presented him with as your gown slipped down your back, your weeping cunt glistening with your arousal, so engorged and throbbing with your pregnancy. He shot up, coming to kneel behind you so he could get a closer look. Jungkook ran his thumb through your folds, cock aching at the way you clenched and whined. There was so much slick, he couldn’t believe how wet you were, a little leaking down and dripping onto the bed from his ministrations. You became pliant, pushing back against his fingers as far as your stomach would allow, desperately wanting him to bury them into you, anything to ease that empty feeling.

“Careful sweetheart, gotta make sure you and bub are okay first,” he murmured into your ear, hands smoothing over your stomach again as he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Let’s take this off.”

His hands bundled up the bottom of your night dress, patiently waiting until you lifted each knee off the bed so it wasn’t caught and gently peeled it from your panting form. The cool morning air nipped at your exposed skin, every inch of you flushed hot. You leaned back, Jungkook’s chest plastered to you, your puffy nipples hardening quickly when Jungkook pinched them between his fingers. Milky droplets began beading and dripping down your front, drawing a long moan at the sensitivity of them.

“You’re so amazing, oh my god. Do you have any idea how often I’ve imagined you like this? So perfectly swollen and pregnant, so incredibly fertile. Breasts so soft and brimming with milk. You’re such a good girl for Hyung and I, you’re gonna let us fill you up again and again aren’t you?” He continued his groping while whispering filthy things in your ear, you were so worked up it was almost painful.

“I-If you keep doing that, uhh fuck Kookie, baby. I think I might come, oh.” At your whining he gave an extra hard pinch, and little droplets of white sprinkled across the bed sheets, some dripping down your chest onto your stomach. He relented for a second to tear off his pajamas in record time, giving you barely a second’s warning before the hardness of his scalding cock was sliding into the cleft of your asscheeks, a moan breaking out from him at how soaked it got. With one hand your fingers twisted in the bedsheets, the other trying to reach behind and line him up. However, he chuckled and gripped your wrist to stop you. So close yet so far, and you began muttering a sting of incoherent and almost hysterical gibberish, undecipherable other than the occasional please. Given how wet you were he easily sunk in, and it made the stretch of his girth a little more tolerable as he bottomed out with a curse. His teeth bit softly into the flesh of your bare shoulder and you whimpered loudly as he drew back to sink straight back in at a torturously slow pace, always giving you a few seconds to accommodate his thickness. The teasing was driving you near insane, but thankfully he had such a fat cock it still felt incredible. He was always so gentle to begin with, treating you as if you were fragile. However, as he said before he could never say no to you. Once you really whined and whimpered for him to go harder, boy did he give it to you.

He adjusted his hands on your soft hips, gripping them tighter so he could tug you back onto his length as he began slamming into you. Loud slaps filled the room as his pace quickened, pounding eagerly from behind and you wailed, this angle always making him feel so much deeper than usual. “You just get more beautiful everyday, ugh,” Jungkook huffed in your ear, voice strained from the feeling of your velvet walls gripping him eagerly.

Your softness dug into his hip bones as his thrusts grew more powerful, his incredible thighs flexing with the brutal pace he set. Pleasure twisted in your abdomen acutely, the pressure building up easily with your swollen belly. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come already. You feel so good baby, oh!”

At your words he used his impressive strength to pull you against him even more, the angle had his cock rubbing against that special spot and your high hit you harder than it ever had. You reached up and behind you to anchor your hands on his thick, vascular neck, sweaty skin sticking slightly. Your thighs trembled right as you began to peak, and just as the door swung open and you locked gazes with Taehyung. You felt a delicious pressure release in your abdomen as you gushed with a broken shriek, clear fluid squirting all over the tangled bedsheets. He watched you with eyes blown out wide, grip on the doorknob so tight it almost broke and you couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back into your head. Each jolt caused your ever growing breasts to sway, and the way your hands were above your head only accentuated all your lovely curves which he happily consumed with his gaze.

Jungkook let out a few loud, high pitched moans as he released inside you, the warmth making you shudder as you began coming down from your orgasm. A warm, sweaty forehead pressed against your back as you both panted from the effort, Jungkook’s hands steadying you as you lay down onto your side. The shortness of breath was really beginning to kick in now that you were almost five months pregnant. Wordlessly you reached out for Taehyung, making grabby hands at him as he set his things down and shut the door.

“Good morning princess.” He stalked over to the bed, eyes raking over your glistening body, also flicking back to take in Jungkook who had flopped back against the pillows. “Do you want more? Does daddy get a turn?” He leant down and whispered in your ear as he pressed kisses all along your cheek. You whined and nodded yes, immediately seeking out his lips with your own. God, you just came but you were always ready and wanted to feel both of your lovers, so insatiable these days.

“Good morning my sweet,” he murmured, bed dipping under Taehyung’s weight as he joined you. His fingers ran through Jungkook’s dark curls, and he bent down to capture his other lover’s mouth in a sweet kiss, the younger tugged Taehyung toward him and eagerly began pulling at his clothes.

While the two of them locked lips and stripped you scooted up and flopped onto your back, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat and legs wide open to accommodate your ever growing stomach. Both men’s gaze immediately fell to your core, looking so pretty with Jungkook’s cum slowly dripping out. Taehyung couldn’t resist, he shifted toward you, dropped to his stomach and pushed your legs further apart. “Look at you, such a messy girl. Daddy should clean you up, hm?” You bit your finger coyly, head clouded with lust as you nodded. Taehyung took another few seconds to stare at your engorged centre, his breath fanning against your wetness causing you to squirm before he quickly dipped down to run his tongue through your folds, groaning at the mixture of sweet and salty taste. He lapped up the juices, tongue seeking out your clit and drawing it into his mouth ripping an almost scream from you from finally getting stimulation on your sensitive, blood fattened nub.

Taehyung started to moan louder, and you lifted your head up until you were almost sitting - you had to otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see past your growing stomach - only to find Taehyung still had his head buried between your legs. However, Jungkook had his own agenda, and his teeth nibbled at one of Taehyung’s buttcheeks before his tongue dipped down between them. One hand snuck down underneath Taehyung’s hips to stroke at his cock which he had previously been grinding against the sheets.

You’d quickly learned that Jungkook had a bit of an oral fixation, he was obsessed with leaving hickies wherever he could. More than once the two of you would be working early in the morning, then the next thing Jungkook would haul you up onto the unoccupied part of the workbench and eat you out. You had to have a door installed that separated the back workroom from the shop because of his high libido, though as he grew more explorative you’d also have to scold him about food safety.

The elder sat back on his knees, a hand coming to sink two fingers into your sopping apex. His thumb rubbed circles against your engorged clit, and with each thrust of his wrist he pushed out some of the thick white mixture. Now that he was sat up, Jungkook crawled up and laid on his side, coming to lap at the drops of precum on his erect length. The elder pulled his hand from between your legs and popped them into his mouth, a soft groan accompanying the taste he so adored, the cum of both his lovers combined.

“Kookie? Can you go again, baby?” Taehyung asked, his other hand gently threaded into his hair to ease him off his member. Jungkook nodded eagerly, pumping his own cock in his hand, already hard again. The stamina that boy had frightened you, once you were ready for another baby he’d have you pregnant again in no time. Taehyung motioned for him to lay on his back, and gently guided you over to where Jungkook was propped up with his head resting against the pillows. You turned around and straddled his hips with your back to him and he sat up a bit to steady you.

“Are you okay to keep going? You’re not too tired?” Jungkook whispered in your ear, to which you quickly nodded. No matter how tired you were, you rarely turned down sex with your two lovers. However, on the odd occasion that you did want to rest instead they had no qualms, as they happily indulged in their own intercourse often. The sudden need to twist around and kiss him overcame you and you whined softly, seeking out his lips. They were both so sweet and attentive, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

“Kook?” You murmured. He hummed in response, a warm palm soothing on your arm. “I love you, so so much.”

He couldn’t suppress the grin that broke out across his face no matter how hard he tried, because he was so undeniably happy. “My (Y/N), I love you so much, more than you could imagine.” He leaned forward to peck your lips again before an insistent tap on your thigh brought your attention back to Taehyung.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, already pouting at him for a kiss as well. “I haven’t forgotten about you. I love you too, Taehyung.” At your words he seemed to melt a little, his lips brushing against yours over and over in soft little pecks.

“I love you too, petal. All of you.” He touched your stomach gently, also looking back at Jungkook behind you. The hand that was just on your tummy came up to cup your cheek, however, you’d grown quite impatient and turned your head to draw two of his fingers into your mouth.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” he hummed, smiling as you suckled while looking up at him with wide eyes. The sweet tone turned to a growl as you dropped his hand only to bend down, now practically on your hands and knees, and licked a stripe up his fat, throbbing length. The taste of his salty precum had you keening, popping the tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the head. You lapped at his frenulum, occasionally running your tongue across the slit to catch the droplets as they continued to bead.

Jungkook behind you kneaded your soft rump, pulling the cheeks apart and running his tongue from your clit up to your tight hole. Your excessive juices mixed with his cum made for a perfect lubricant as he lapped at your rim, his thumb coming to spread the slick around it and you clenched at the threat of intrusion. He watched in fascination as you clenched again, lightly pressing on it to test the resistance. Given how wet you were the digit sunk in easily, and you immediately clamped down. Taehyung growled as he felt the vibrations of your moan on his cock, his hand threading into your hair softly. Jungkook worked his thumb in and out of your ass, giving your muscles time to slowly relax. A thrum of excitement rushed through you as he pulled the digit out, only to slick up two more fingers and ease them in carefully. You always got a bit more worked up when you knew you were going to have both men at once, it felt incredible being so full of them.

“God noona, you’re taking my fingers so well. You love getting your tight little asshole played with, don’t you? Such a good girl.” Jungkook hissed, scissoring the digits until he could work in a third finger. You pulled your lips from Taehyung’s cock with a pop sound, the pleasure was so overwhelming, especially when Jungkook’s thumb came to rub circles on your clit.

“Are you close again, princess?” Taehyung asked, stroking your hair. You nodded furiously, pushing back to try and get the younger’s fingers probing deeper.

“U-Ugh! Daddy, Kookie! I’m com-oh!” you didn’t even finish your sentence before your orgasm washed over you, toes curling and skin tingling with the euphoric feeling. Jungkook’s fingers continued to rub against your sensitive walls, the completely unique feeling causing you to clench even harder. When your cries subsided you slumped back a little and Jungkook withdrew his hand. “Please,” you whimpered, pouting and looking between both your lovers.

“Please what, my love? Use your words.” Taehyung ordered.

“Want more, want you both.”

“Oh? Is one cock filling you up not enough for you? Greedy girl,” he tutted. “Can you sit back for me? Want Jungkookie to fuck your ass while I have your pussy?”

Your empty orifices clench at his words, wanting so desperately to be filled and to feel the push and pull of both their lengths fucking you. Eagerly you nodded, reaching down to touch your clit again but Taehyung’s hand grabbed your wrist.

“Did I say you could do that, hm?” He growled, tugging your hand away. Your eyes widened at his commanding tone, shaking your head slowly. “What did I just tell you to do?”

“Sit on Jungkookie’s cock, daddy.”

“Exactly, go on then,” Taehyung growled, the softness of his hands as he helped you move back contradicting his tone. You hovered over Jungkook's length, the tip pressing against the seam of your ass. A faint gasp escaped you as he ran the head of his cock through your folds to soak it in the wetness dripping from you, before moving back to line himself up. Ever so gently he pressed the tip against your asshole, applying a soft pressure, coaxing the muscles of your rim to loosen.

Gradually your ass relaxed to grant him entrance, the head of his cock slipped in aided by your excessive slick. Once he pushed past that initial resistance the rest of his silken length sunk in easily, creating a delicious stretch and you moaned. Taehyung drank in the whole image, watching the younger's cock bottom out as his hips met the flesh of your behind and you sat fully impaled on his length.

Your pussy fluttered and clenched rhythmically, more droplets of your nectar running down to coat Jungkook’s heavy balls. The feeling had him crying out with a choked whimper, you were so tight and warm and he was so sensitive from only just coming.

Gently you rested back against his chest, Jungkook’s torso propped up safely by your pillows and your legs flopped open wider, beckoning Taehyung forward. The elder man sauntered over to you both, his precum dribbled down to join the mess between your thighs as he drew closer, rubbing the tip of his cock through your soaked folds.

You squirmed, unconsciously opening your legs wider for Taehyung to swear softly at the view he was blessed with.

“Daddy, please. Want you too,” you whined, pleading with your eyes as well. You continued shifting and grinding, making Jungkook’s grip on your hips brutally tight. He might leave a few bruises on your soft flesh but he couldn't help it, not when you felt so good. Besides, he would kiss it better later.

“Hyung-” He grunted, not able to get anything else out as he felt Taehyung’s fat cock push into your empty cunt, the thickness still stretching you despite how wet you were. In one smooth, slow stroke he bottomed out and a choked cry was torn from your lips at how full you were, already teetering on the edge and so close to tipping over. In a desperate lust filled haze your hand shot down to rub at your clit furiously, jolts of pleasure still shooting through your abdomen even though both men weren’t moving.

Instead of stopping you this time, Taehyung watched on with a smirk as you rocked yourself back and forth slightly, so desperate for release. He withdrew his cock slightly from your walls and you cried out in displeasure, pussy trying so hard to suck him back in. However, not a second later he plunged back in to the hilt slowly, right as Jungkook pulled out only to fuck back into you. The room filled with your loud cries, nothing got you to moan quite as loud as when you were stuffed full with two cocks, and not to mention the grunts and groans from both men as they picked up a rhythm, one thrusting in right as the other pulled out.

Taehyung’s eyes glazed over as he watched his length bury into your sopping, swollen folds over and over with each thrust. The sight made him harden further, heavy balls smacking against Jungkook’s length occasionally where it sunk into your slippery ass. It didn’t take long for your next climax to come, the only warning you gave them was a broken whimper of, “hgn, c-oming!” before your legs were trembling, a little sprinkle of clear fluid gushing forth as your eyes rolled back.

“Fuck-,” Taehyung grunted, quickly circling your clit to help you ride out your orgasm as he looked at the wet sheen covering his abdomen. “This is new. Does having your tummy nice and swollen make you squirt, sweetheart?”

All you could manage was to nod furiously, hips still being jolted from each push and pull. Suddenly the urge to shift positions came forth and you pushed on Taehyung’s chest gently, still trying to find the words after your powerful orgasm that left you feeling like jelly.

He slowed his pace, an expression of alarm appeared across his features and he gripped your hand. “What is it my love? Did we do something wrong? Are you hurt?”

“N-No, I just. Can I go on top please?” You breathed out, fatigue beginning to take its toll. He visibly relaxed, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple.

“Of course.” He eased out gently causing you to wince at the sudden empty feeling when Jungkook did the same a moment later. Your hand gripped Tae’s wrist, tugging him softly so that he turned and flopped on his back on the bed and you swung a leg over to straddle his hips, two sets of hands touching you gently, always prepared to steady you. Taehyung’s fingertips trailed up from your hips, coming to cradle the small swell of your abdomen. The tender moment had you pausing, before you leaned down to kiss the grin off his lips.

You reached down to grip his length, lining him up before you sunk down on him. A content sigh left you at being reacquainted with the feeling you’d come to love and crave. The younger eagerly jumped up to close in behind you once again, his large hands groped the flesh of your ass, parting your cheeks to look at your twitching asshole. He was quick to ease himself back in as well, the elder giving him a moment to adjust before they picked up the pace, and from the way they were both moaning you could tell they were getting closer. You were glad as you were definitely getting tired during the rigorous fucking sessions these two always put you through.

Jungkook’s strength astounded you, he was practically picking you up and pulling you back back onto his length, doing most of the work while Taehyung fucked up into you with practiced ease. It was more frantic now, all three of you driving towards that blissful finish as you often did to start off the morning, although you’d be having an extra long sleep in for sure after this.

Your swollen breasts were now perfectly in Taehyung's face, bouncing with each thrust and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to draw one of your puffy nipples into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Your moans grew louder at the sensation, not to mention the way his chest began glistening as droplets landed there from the other peak. Not in a million years would you grow tired of seeing one of them latch onto your chest and suckle on the sensitive nubs, particularly now that you were pregnant and lactating. It just made them far more keen, the hormonal men brimming with spunk always ready to fuck their cum into you in whatever hole they could, showering you in praise after for being so good and fertile for them. Jungkook particularly would stare at your belly, definitely daydreaming about you pregnant with his child next. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind too much that you didn’t have his baby growing inside you, it only antagonised him and gave him cause to try and outdo his hyung. It was a blessing you had such high libido or this relationship certainly wouldn’t have worked out so well, but the three of you had somehow achieved harmony.

“I-ugh, hyung! I’m gonna, uhhhh, gonna come!” Kookie cried.

“You can come Jungkookie,” Taehyung growled, his own words strained as his high approached. Jungkook was the one to peak first, pushing his thick cock into the hilt, stilling slightly as the warmth of his cum flooded your ass and he let out a string of high pitched moans. You were next, thanks to Taehyung furiously slamming into your swollen, sensitive cunt. As soon as you gripped him tightly in the throes of your ecstasy, he finally came as well, filling up your pussy with his warm, thick seed.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, panting hard and he pressed a kiss into your hair. “You’re always such a good girl for us, isn’t she Kookie?”

The three of you were dazed in your sweaty, post orgasm bliss, soaking up the sweet moment. The younger man hummed in agreement and parted your cheeks, staring at the copious amount of cum oozing from your spent orifices. You were sore but satiated, happily soaking up the tender moment until Jungkook exclaimed,

“Now that is the best creampie I’ve ever made!”

➻ A/N: This fic took me six months to write...so I would really appreciate a little bit of feedback!

Part Two: & Everything Nice coming soon!

#taekook x reader #taekook fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts imagine #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #taehyung imagine #bts fan fic

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translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

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Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 12

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 12 - Roommate

Death is the loneliest thing. A deadly but lonely ghost, after hundreds of years of silence, waiting for someone to finally sense its presence.

How tragic yet oddly optimistic.

"It's ridiculous to accompany a ghost into death. Is there anyway to make him leave willingly?"

A-Yan laughed suddenly. He didn't know why that the indescribable smile was so strange that is made people's hair stand on end. He whispered, "What if I told you 'no'?"

Lin Yan was stunned. If he wouldn't leave, what would his life be like? He was being watched at all times, when he was sleeping, eating, going to class, driving, going to the bathroom, and even masturbating under a pair of watchful eyes. He checked the calendar every day, counting down the days until his death. He was scared he was going to go crazy in a few days. Lin Yan put the carved cat back on the table and silently sifted through his thoughts. If he had to, he might still go to that small temple.

How was he supposed to satisfy this ghost's wishes?

"I don't think ghosts are much different from people, but survival is human instinct. Everyone wants to live, right?" Lin Yan said helplessly.

"I understand." A-Yan replied softly.

"This wish is keeping the ghost from being reborn. Ghosts with unresolved wishes are unable to enter the cycle of reincarnation. Over time, the spirits become ghosts and nothing can be done about their wish. In fact, this ghost was just a poor man before his death. If they fulfill their wish during their lifetime, nothing will happen. If you can fulfill his wish, his hostility will naturally dissipate and he will reincarnate."

"The ghost's wish?"

A-Yan smiled weakly: "Yes. Some want revenge, some want retribution, some can't let go of their wives and children, everyone has a reason not to leave the world. I have seen so many ghosts, but this one following you has the deepest obsession I've ever seen."

As he spoke, a chilly breath came up, snaking up Lin Yan's ankle. His whole body felt like he had been submerged in icy water. Lin Yan shuddered. He didn't expect the ghost to appear during the day, although there wasn't much difference between day and night in this basement. Sitting opposite of him, A-Yan's face changed. He stared at something behind Lin Yan and drank in the monster standing there. He wanted to reach the peach wood sword on the cabinet. However, he was unfortunately a step too slower. The coldness turned into invisible brute force in an instant. It grabbed Lin Yan's wrist and dragged him up from the sofa. He staggered forward then he was dragged so hard by the ghost he almost didn't touch the ground. He was pulled through the living room and dragged harshly to the right into a back room. With a bang, the door slammed behind him, and the metal sound of the door locking rang through the darkness. Yin Zhou and A-Yan rushed after them and banged against the door desperately outside. Lin Yan reached for the lock with trembling hands, but there were no windows in the basement, and the room was completely dark when the door was closed. For a while, he couldn't find the door handle.

Unhappy with Lin Yan's resistance, the strange force grabbed his ankle and yanked him back. Lin Yan couldn't stay upright, and fell flat on his chin. He was dragged into the middle of the room by the hand firmly holding the ankle. His face was rubbed against the rough concrete floor, hot and painful.

"You're fucking crazy! This is someone else's house!" Lin Yan kicked his legs hard to get rid of the force entangled around his ankle. In a flash, a cold body was pressed up against his, and his long hair bushed against Lin Yan's neck. His lips fell across his face, his tongue licked back and forth on the wound on his chin, and finally he kissed his lips. It wasn't not so much a kiss as it was a bite, full of irritable emotions and strong desire to claim his territory. He ravaged his mouth; it was totally different from the obedient being that was in his car last night. His cry for help was blocked. Lin Yan could only shake his head and moan, his sensitive jaw stimulated by his touch. He wanted to curl up into a ball, but the ghost had him restrained from his thigh to his upper arm. Lin Yan turned his head in the direction of the door in despair. In the dark, he felt that he was no stronger than a leaf, forced to lie in a fire, crackling and roasting away, not being able to do anything.

Bang bang bang!

"Open the door! Lin Yan, are you okay!"

"Hah. . ." He didn't even have the strength to call out for help. His face was pulled back and the ghost continued to kiss him deeply and even intensified. It sucked on a small bit of his tongue and bit down. Lin Yan whimpered in pain, the smell of rust filling his mouth. The ghost sucked deeper as if he had been encouraged by something. It forced him to respond violently, like he was being hunted and chased all at once. All that echoed in his ears was the magnified ambiguous sound of water in the dark.

Bang bang! Bang bang!

"Say something!"

"Brother Lin Yan!"

During the stalemate, Lin Yan had cold sweat dripping off his forehead. He used his to knee to push against the ghost but it remained unmoved. After kissing Lin Yan all over, he turned his target to kiss against his earlobe. The wet sound and touch made Lin Yan tremble like he'd been shocked and he couldn't help getting goose bumps. Regardless of the time or place, the ghost's intrusions and being forced into submission made Lin Yan feel like he was on fire. He thought he was a patient man, but this thing was like a fucking wolf cub, always searching for warmth and touch. He couldn't help but kick out his legs and scolded fiercely: "Get away!"

"People and ghosts have different paths. It doesn't matter what you want, I can't accompany you in death as a living person!"

The ghost's movements stopped. Lin Yan could feel him shaking slightly, and the weight on his body slowly moved away. There was a long sigh in the darkness. The face of the ghost appeared in front of him, looking desperate to protect him and keep him close. Lin Yan couldn't bear it. He lowered his voice and said to the darkness in front of him: "Listen to me, it's time to go."

"I won't bother you, you don't bother me, we don't owe each other anything, what do you say?"

After no response, Lin Yan stretched out his hand and didn't touch anything.

Was it really gone? Lin Yan rolled over and sat up. He rubbed his back, sore from lying on the ground. The bloody smell lingered in his mouth. He stretched out the tip of his tongue and touched it with his fingers, sending a small shock of pain. At the same time, there was a strange knocking sound from the other side of the room, almost like knuckles knocking against an object like a water tank. There was a repeated muffled sound resounding with a buzzing echo: "Dang-dang, dang-dang. . ."

There was almost no light in the room. Lin Yan opened his eyes wide and still couldn't see anything.

"Is that you?"

"Clang clang clang. . ." The noise sounded anxiously. It seemed impatient and a little anxious.

". . . What are you trying to tell me?"

There was only another quiet knock in response. Lin Yan let out a sigh. He stood up and patted the dirt off his pants. He went to the door and pulled on the handle. The knocking sound stopped abruptly when the door opened, and the lights poured in. A-Yan and Yin Zhou stood there with a peach-wood sword and a yellow talisman coated with cinnabar, their faces drained of colour.

"Damn, I was scared to death. I thought you would be a pile of bones when we got the door open!" Yin Zhou grabbed the yellow talisman and waved it in front of him. A-Yan muttered something, and rushed a few steps into the room. Lin Yan followed him, glancing back.

"A-Yan, forget it." Lin Yan said softly, "He was no big deal. I'll think of another way."

A ghost who had been dead for hundreds of years still holds so much obsession and resentment for the world. Even after reciting the Buddhist scriptures 300,000 times or spending 7749 days in a Daoist temple could disperse it. What kind of goal can make people not find peace? Lin Yan slowly turned his car into congested traffic. At 5 o'clock in the afternoon, the whole street was filled with warm yellow light. The car smelled of fresh air from the air conditioner, the air freshener had been used up, the light green paste dried at the bottom of the bottle. He remembered that when this bottle was first bought, Weiwei was sitting in the passenger seat. She had straightened her legs, unscrewed the lid and plugged the fragrance bottle under Lin Yan’s nose. She smiled and said that he seemed like the type of person to like the smell of mint.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lin Yan glanced at the empty passenger seat and couldn't help sighing.

He hasn't thought of Weiwei in such a long time.

More than half a year ago, there was a clean girl sitting in the same position, with short hair scattered, her voice sounding like beans hitting against a plate as each word rang out. She still kept her slippers and coral velvet nightgown at home, and the bodhi beads and ring that Lin Yan bought for her were carefully packed in a box, but she didn't take them with her. Lin Yan remembered returning that night. When she walked in, Weiwei stood quietly in the living room, lightly kissed Lin Yan's forehead, and went out after saying goodbye. Lin Yan chased her downstairs and stopped in front of her to ask her what went wrong. Weiwei put her hand in her jeans pocket and smiled freely. She said that he did nothing wrong, he just never truly loved her.

She thought it was insulting to look at her only as a suitable option for a marriage partner. She took off the ring and returned it to Lin Yan. In the night, her face resembled a gardenia blossom that had just bloomed. Her tone was very soft. Lin Yan, you are a good boy. One day you will find someone that you can't resist no matter what the conditions are. Then you'll understand.

The night wind ruffled her coat like a sail, and Lin Yan stood by the flower bed and watched her walk away, and finally did not chase her. In fact, he always knew that Weiwei had just been a safe choice for him. He lacked companionship, and that Weiwei was just right, nothing more.

He had his own secret pain, which he buried carefully for many years.

It was dinner by the time he made it home, the sky turned dark. He didn't know which family was cooking sweet and sour pork ribs, but the delicious sauce aroma was enough to make him drool. Lin Yan parked the car in the garage of the complex and took out a shopping bag from his back seat that was stuffed to the brim. A stack of talisman paper painted with bright red text on the dashboard was particularly eye-catching. Lin Yan stared at it for a while and folded it into his pocket. He shook his head and closed the car door.

He has tried his best to avoid mentioning the ghost's sexual obsession and desires, but he felt that A-Yan was still aware of it. When he left, the little Daoist have him the pile of yellow paper, He stuttered that burning it to ashes and flushing them away with water could prevent evil from getting close, and stick one to the door to keep the house safe. Each one could last about a day. Lin Yan took out a box of instant mushroom chicken rice from the shopping bag, made a few holes in the plastic film and threw it into the microwave. When the rice was cooked, he took out the charms and looked through them. The cinnabar was scribbled into some incomprehensible text. The blood stains dried into small brown spots from when A-Yan bit his tongue and sprayed on them.

Flick. The flame of the lighter rose.

The eerie chill in the room visibly moved, as if reluctantly took a couple steps back.

Lin Yan suddenly hesitated when the corner of the charm was about to reach the flames and send away a ghost who was beyond loneliness. He raised his head and looked at the direction of the cold spot. After a moment, he asked softly, "Are you there?"

The thing got closer, and the cold feeling grew again. Lin Yan knew that this was a sign of his anger. At this point, if he showed even a little resistance, the ghost would pounce on his body ruthlessly, as if it were mad.

"You have nowhere else to go except to follow me. If I don't use this, then you won't touch me, will you?"

Lin Yan put the lighter aside and spread his hands in the direction where the cold spot was.

There was a crisp ding from the microwave. The chicken and mushroom rice was cooked, and the tempting aroma of the food made Lin Yan feel like he was worlds away. It felt like he hadn't had a good meal for a long time. He turned on the kitchen faucet and soaked each of the talismans in the sink. Lin Yan picked them up and crumpled them into a trash can. The cinnabar was wet and it ran off of each of them like blood stains.

The thin cold air had shifted closer. Lin Yan was a little nervous, and subconsciously gulped. He didn't know if there was any use in negotiating with ghosts, and he was even more worried that showing weakness would give the other more opportunities to attack. The icy hands caught Lin Yan's wrists, and his soft lips pressed on his forehead. Lin Yan froze for a moment, and when he was about to retreat, the coldness retreated first, floating away but staying nearby.

For dinner, Lin Yan took two cups from the cabinet and poured some juice. He also put two pairs of chopsticks in the rice bowl. There was a hollow ceramic antique lamp hanging above the dining table. The warm light was projected from the carved flowers on the porcelain wall. The whole room was shrouded in a quiet atmosphere. Lin Yan picked up the cup and raised it to the empty chair opposite of him. He reluctantly smiled, and said softly: "You'll let me live for three more months, right?"

"Cheers then, for being roommates for three months."

Lin Yan felt that it was almost worse to laugh than cry in this situation. For so many years, there has been something more terrifying to him than the threat of ghosts. It was hidden for too long and too deep, and when he had almost forgotten it, it was dug out again. Lin Yan didn't want to admit it. He was also ashamed to admit that he was shuddering to an erection because a man sucked and kissed on his earlobe. It felt like a worm had crawled in his heart, and every twitch made it itchy and unbearable. He finally broke down halfway through the meal, put down his chopsticks and rushed into the bathroom without closing the door. He knew that closing the door would not even leave him a shred of dignity. For the first time in the ambiguous darkness, he indulged himself between his hips. The stiffness of his legs made him crazy. Lin Yan leaned on the wall and groaned, his face flushed, and the tip of his nose was wet with fine sweat. He panted and stroked his front end to comfort him.

For once, the shadow in the mirror did not approach. He just stood not far away and watched Lin Yan go from hesitation to struggle and finally abandoning himself. When he climaxed, he slid along the wall and sat on the ground, looking at the person in the mirror helplessly. He let out a loud whimper.

Why do you have to force me to do this?

You let me go.

Who hasn't done a dirty act behind closed doors and walked out pretending everything was normal? Leave the ugliest side of you to me, give me your darkest desires, hold me tightly at your most miserable moments, even if you die, let your soul belong to me, and neither time nor fate can separate us from now on.

Lin Yan took out more things from the shopping bag; rice paper, inkstones, stone ball, ink ingots, writing brush. He spread a piece of soft felt onto the table, cut the rice paper into two pieces and flattened it with the ball. The hot water melted the soft glue of the wolf hair pen tip, and the wetted tip brushed against the inkstone. There was only a table lamp in the room, and everything seemed otherworldly in the dim light, as if everything had changed through a milky white veil. The carved frame, the sandalwood case, the lake gauze tent embroidered with butterflies and flowers, and the white-clothed man listened to the wind by the window, grasping a lake pen, with a copy of "Taiping Guang Ji" in hand. The yellowed pages of the book turned and rustled when the wind blew, the story mostly false with a little truth; gods and monsters are obsessed, but they can't write about the love of the world like humans can.

"Do you remember your name from when you were alive?"

The brush actually stood up in the air under the dark shadow of the lamp. It seemed to think for a while. A drop of ink fell on the paper and turned into an irregular round spot, and a faint water mark was drawn from the edge.

It was nice and clear calligraphy.

Xiao Yu.

"Your unresolved wish. . . What is it?"

The tip of the pen hung on the paper but there was no more writing that came.

For the first time since the strange incidents began, Lin Yan had a good night's sleep and had no dreams all night.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #yaoi novel

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possum-rat · 4 years ago

Text

Not fun memories involving fire

(Y/n) bolts up from a bed. Sticky hot sheets sticking to their legs. Someone took the time and effort to unzip most of the pant leg turning the cargo pants into shorts, and pull off the sweater leaving them in a whitish shirt.

Their head aching they press their palms to their temples in an attempt to relieve some of the pain. "(Y/n) It's been a while! How are you?" Wilbur's voice erupts cheerfully. (Y/n) drops their hands to their lap staring intently at their grayish-tinted hands. "T's only been a few weeks Wilbur." They murmur tiredly. "Uh no? It's been a few years. Like 6 years." Replies Wilbur confused. "You feeling okay?"

(Y/n) frowns slightly and replies "Nah haven't been for the past... Wait how old am I?-" There's a pause as (Y/n) counts on their fingers before continuing completely serious "Uh not for the past like 16 years. But hey I'm alive? With 1 more life!" Wilbur blanches. "How the hell- What? How'd you lose your first?"

(Y/n) freezes and coughs. "Uh. Long story?"

-----

"(N/N)? LOVE? WHERE ARE YOU?" A panic-filled voice shouts from beyond the burning cottage. As smoke fills (y/n's) lungs they cough violently as they look around for a small tuxedo kitten. "Ailuros? Where are you?" They wheeze. As the fire continues eating at any and all flammable objects (Y/n) runs toward a shucker box. Patting their hand on the burning embers they grab the Shulker box and quickly tap the air infront of them before placing the box inside.

a pitiful mew comes from beside their feet."Ailuros." The word spills from (y/n's) mouth before they can stop. The small cat leaps up onto their open arms. Clutching the cat close to their chest they run toward the nearest door. Kicking it open their greeted by an angry mob.

shouting and sadistic grins illuminated by the light off the flickering burning flames.

(y/n) backs up dropping the cat allowing it to run. "Lilith?" (Y/n) voice comes out below a whisper. Pulling a sword from their inventory they point it toward the Tall brutish men break down the front door. Sprinting out of the house and toward the opisiete window (Y/n) slams their foot into the side of the window. The tinkle of glass and sharp pain flashing up their leg make's (Y/n's) eyes water more. Jumping from the window the cool air is a welcomed reilef compared to the sweltering heat of the burning house.

Staring in disbelief at the sight faintly as if in the deepest corner of their mind a song begins to play. Melancholy and slightly sad.

"All my style

All my grace

All I tried to save my face

All my guts, try to spill

All my holes, try to fill

All my money been a long time spent

On my drugs, on my rent

On my saving philosophy

It goes, one in the bank, and the rest for me

It goes, all my troubles on a burning pile

All lit up and I start to smile

If I, catch fire then I change my aim

Throw my troubles at the pearly gates"

"(N/n) oh there you are! Oh, I was so worried!" Lilith's voice erupts from behind (Y/n) causing them to flinch still feeling adrenaline in their veins. "Oh thank god. I thought they killed you." (Y/n) murmurs as they pull the raven-haired girl into a hug. "Yeah I'm alive hun." The sound of metal against a sheath causes (Y/n) to tense up.

the cool feeling of a blade to skin causes (Y/n's) eyes to widen in fear. "Lilith?" They whisper fear evident in their voice. "Hm? What's wrong love?" Lilith asks calmly. "Why? Why do you have a blade?" (Y/n) asks quietly as they back up while Lilith grins and points the blade toward them.

"Tch. You afraid to die? Hm? Does death scare you?" She erupt coyly as she adjusts her long dark green blazer gently pulling a long slightly waves strand of dark hair off before rolling it in her fingers and dropping it to the ground. "Ye-yes. It does." (Y/n) mumbles quietly.

"Well (y/n) you should remember. Those stupid children's books you'd read? Percy Jackson? Love and death aren't as different as one might think. You shouldn't fear death." (Y/n) feels their heart beginning to beat against their heart as they back into a tree. As they scoot away from it they trip over a root and smack to the ground.

"You're pathetic." Lilith snarls. The world blinks in and out of existence. "How in the world do you think I could ever like-Love someone like you?" She scoffs "I mean. I only stuck around because you're the famous '(Y/n)! The famous Healer/Alchemist! You know Wilbur Soot. How the fuck do you think I'd ever love you."

she bends closer toward (Y/n) placing the heel of her boot into their throat. "Oh." (Y/n) says simply.

Death gently places a soft kiss upon (y/n) forehead.

-----

(y/n) rubs their neck nervously as they stand up. "Anyway. Wilbur, do you have a potion stand?" Wilbur nods and stands up. As the two of them walk out of the tiny little makeshift hut (Y/n) spots the distance figure of Tubbo and Tommy. Sprinting toward them wincing at the light.

"TUBBO!" they screech as they pull the Ram-hybrid into a hug. "(Y/n)? YOU PRICK I WAS TALKING TO HIM."

Tubbo wraps his arms around them in return. As they cling to each other (Y/n) stands up holding Tubbo like a child. "Jesus Christ- Wow you've grown," Tubbo says excitedly. "Welp I need to go to the nether to grab some supplies wanna come with?" (Y/n) asks more to Tommy than Tubbo.

the two agree, letting (Y/n) get more appropriate clothes on. As the trio walk-Run toward the portal Tommy asks confused "Why do you seem taller?" The familiar whurring of the portal fills the silence as (Y/n) pulls at the brightly colored sky blue sweater before rolling up the sleeves. "Uh that'd probably be the boots? Anyway what's happened? How've you been?" They say as they follow the other two boys.

"Oh not much, the usual. Well Part from being killed once." Tubbo informs as he walks infront of (y/n) his brown hair bouncing slightly as he walks. "Hm. So you both have 2 lives left?" They mutter quietly. "Okay."

Small whispers in their head begins creating a wave of sound.

"Keep them safe."

"Watch Tommy."

"Grape."

"Meow."

the voices eventually move on too chanting "Meow." Contentedly. The whistle of a fire ballT makes (y/n) jump. Turning toward the sound they shove Tommy's head down along with Tubbo's just in case. They flinch violently as a freezing feeling spreads over their cheek and neck along with part of their forearm.

The sudden alarmed shout of Tubbo and Tommy causes (Y/n) to jump and turn toward them in fear. "Are you alright?" They ask. The sound of a skeleton walking towards them causes Tubbo to tense up. "Tommy? Do you wanna stick with them? I just got a message from Wilbur." Tommy nods uncertainly. As Tubbo dissapears (y/n) turns toward the skeleton.

"Child. Is this human being troublesome? Do you need me to remove him?" (Y/n) shakes their head wincing at the pain in their neck. "Tommy, go with Tubbo." Tommy happily obliges.

The world seems to tip and swirl underneath (y/n) feet.

-----

The loud crash of something metal causes (Y/n) to bolt upright. " YOU'RE GOING TO WALK THE CHILD DUMBASS." Snaps someone from out of sight. Another voice replies quietly "Please stop shouting. The child is awake." There's shuffling before two faces appear. (Y/n) squints at the trio. The tallest of the three has broken chain-mail armor layered over a purple uniform with a crest of arms on the left-hand side over their heart.

The skeleton nods and groans as they sit down infront of (Y/n).

"Hello (y/n) It's been awhile. But you probably don't remember me. You were but a baby. I'm Theodore." He says in a deep slightly raspy voice. (Y/n) nods and scans around. Theodore points toward the smallest of the three and informs " the one over their beside the door is Loren."

Loren gives a shy wave before tapping the wood on the side of the door. ".. - .-..-. ... / .- / .--. .-.. . .- ... ..- .-. . / - --- / ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -- . . - / -.-- --- ..- / -- -..- .-.-.- -.--. -.-- -..-. -. -.--.-" it takes (Y/n) a second to decipher the tapping. Before translating it to "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mx.(Y/n)" Loren wears an off white dress shirt along with a pair of dark plum pinstripe pants, and a black corset. They smile kindly before glancing toward the ground. "It's nice to meet you Loren." (Y/n) rasps.

"And that over behind you is Clementine."

(Y/n) try's to look toward the direction Theodore had said but a hand presses against their shoulder. "Here let me move hun." A poofy dark blue shoulder poof thingy floats into view. An orate old dress appears into view. Clementine smiles ghostly at (y/n). "You're going to hurt yourself hun. When's the last time you had a proper glass of Wither affect?"

"What? I- I've never had a 'Proper glass of Wither affect?' I'm pretty sure it'll kill me?" They murmer.

"PREPOSTEROUS! This is why you were so weak and frail. SEE CLEMENTINE I TOLD YOU." Theodore states exasperated. Loren sends a look like "I'm sorry about them." Clementine sights and daintily sits down on the bed beside (Y/n) "hm. Dear? Are you okay? Oh cra- Sorry excuse my vulgar language. Theodore pass me the Potion of healing?" (Y/n) frowns and coughs "I'm not- I'm pretty sure that I'm fully human. I don't think wither would help me."

Loren shakes their head and taps the wall again. "No no. Your right about the human part. You're part human, and part well us." They state as they point to themself Clementine and Theodore.

(Y/n) nods slightly and sighs in relief at the cool sensation of the liquid against the raw burnt skin. "OH CRUD- Sorry, but I really need to go find my friends. Do you have a portal by chance?" (Y/n) yelps as they sit up causing Clementine to jump.

Loren nods and taps "We have two compasses. One will lead you home and the other here. Please come back. We'd like to see you more as we're not able to go to the overworld. It get's quite lonesome down here."

(Y/n) nods and smiles as they pull on the fresh clothes the three of them had given. As Loren hands one compass (Y/n) realizes that the three of them have matching golden rings adorning their ring fingers.

-----

As (y/n) gets out of the portal they're greeted by a confused/concerned Eret. "(Y/n)? Where've you been?" They ask bewildered. (Y/n) frowns slightly and asks "Honestly no idea. But where's Tubbo and Tommy- wait I still haven't made a hous- nevermind." They look down to Eret and ask "so what's happened? I've probably missed something?" Eret shifts uncomfortably before saying.

"Uh so L'manberg was blown up everybody lost a life. Part from me and a few others. I don't remember who thought. Tommy has 1 life left I think." He trails off before turning the other way and murmurs "I betrayed them. (Y/n) I helped kill them. I've been dubbed a traitor."

(Y/n) nods understandingly "Hm. Well, if you did what you think is right then that's on you. If they're calling you a tratoir then so be it. I'll still stick by your side." Eret smiles slightly and says "You said you needed to make a house? Do you need supplies?" (Y/n) shakes their head before replying "Nah I'll get that stuff myself. I'll go visit Philza."

"By the way. Nice outfit." Eret says.

(Y/n) scans their outfit taking in the outfit for the first time. A purple shawl-type thing with golden detail over a pale off-whitedress shirt with poofy teardrop-shaped sleeves, tucked into black pants and blackish boots. Glancing at their arms they realize that they're wearing marble patterned like gloves. Affecticivly protecting them against the sun, and any harsh weather.

Tapping the air infront of themself they click onto 'Main menu'

There's a suck before a sudden 'Pop'

As they sit in an empty blank room they scroll through the options of 'Servers' eventually there gaze lands upon a server and seeing Philza's name amount the others They click.

#y/nxmcyt #mcyt #eret myct #tommyinnit #tommy and tubbo

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dnfisgay · 4 years ago

Text

Mr. Loverman - Chapter 1

a/n: hey! welcome to my first fic on here! i kinda feel like i’m back in freshman year writing youtube rpf but hey! we’re all regressing anyway aren’t we? this is a dreamnotfound fic based on the online personas of georgenotfound and dream. this is in no way meant to pressure them or their relationship, and if either of them say they’re uncomfortable with fanfiction i’ll take this down! but anyway at the beginning of every chapter there will be a content warning section and a summary if needed, or if any plot altering events happen during the possibly triggering sections. i hope y’all enjoy Mr. Loverman, a fic based on the song by Ricky Montgomery.

THIS IS MY OWN WORK. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER BLOGS/SITES WITHOUT PERMISSION. DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN.

Prologue

Sometimes, a simple decision is what changes your life the most. Sometimes, a tragedy is a blessing in disguise. Not always, but enough of the time for a few lucky people to benefit. We were some of those people. A simple decision changed... everything. Everyone. Changed me, changed him. Sometimes, we regret those decisions. Other times, they’re the best thing that’s ever happened. We made history together. We made our own history. We changed ourselves for the better. Part of it was born of tragedy, of pain and suffering, of wrong-place-wrong-time. But after, we were born anew. A butterfly emerging from fog.

The rainbow after a storm. A soft mist at the edge of a violent fall. Our own little refuge within the storm. We made history together, you and me.

“I've shattered now, I'm spilling out Upon this linoleum ground I'm reeling in my brain again Before it can get back to you Oh, what am I supposed to do without you?”

Content Warnings: none

Word count: 1,520

Chapter One - A New Chapter Of Us

“What if we moved in together?”

George laughed.

‘What? You’re joking.”

“No! I’m totally serious!” Dream said, laying on his bed. “Think about it. You could get a work visa, come live with me, and we can make videos together! Like vlogs and stuff! You can get away from your family, and I… well I get you! It’s obviously a win-win situation.”

“Vlogs? You don’t even show your face.”

“Oh… yeah. Well, whatever! I’ll do a face reveal. Please, George!”

George’s hesitance showed, making Dream bounce on his knees on the bed, literally begging him.

“Please George! Please!” he laughed, waiting for him to agree. George stayed silent, trying to hide his smile.

“I guess you don’t love me then… oh bother,” Dream fake pouted at him, pretending to cry, rubbing his eyes to make them red. He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Okay, alright, you wore me down,” George said. “Looks like I’m going to Florida!”

---

It’d been three months since Dream asked George to move in with him, and every day he’d sent him pictures of their place. Their place. He doesn’t know why that made him so happy to hear, especially coming from Dream. When he showed George the lounge and texted him “our living room :D,” he felt like his whole entire body was lit ablaze. Like a firework on the Fourth of July -- how American of you already, George, he could hear Dream’s voice saying. It felt like when his first girlfriend told him I love you for the first time. Except... not that. Obviously not that.

And the day was finally here, after waiting for the visa to get approved, and video chats, and seeing only pictures, it was finally going to be their place. Dream and George’s place. There would be no more lagging video or Discord crashing on them. If the internet went out, he’d still be in the next room over. He’d still be his.

Well, not his. But he’d be there. George felt the need to explain himself even in his own head.

The sound of Dream’s Discord ringer cut through his thoughts, too loud for his own good. He stretched over to his desk and answered, turning his camera on too.

“Georgie!” Dream said, bouncing with excitement. “Guess what tomorrow is, Georgie.” He leaned forward on his desk, wiggling his eyebrows at George.

George feigned confusion. “I don’t know, Dream. What’s tomorrow?”

Dream pouted. “Are you being serious right now? Do you really not remember?”

“Dream! I’m literally packing right now!”

“I’m litch-rally packing right now!” Dream mocked, impersonating George’s British accent. George stared him down while Dream was folded over laughing.

“It’s not too late for me to change my mind, you know.”

“Actually, it is. Work visas have to be used or you’ll get a fine,” Dream said, chewing loudly on what looked like — popcorn? God, Americans were weird.

“Is that actually true or did you just make that up so I have no choice but to come?”

Dream looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “...Maybe.” George laughed silently, smiling to himself. He would never say it out loud, but he loved Dream. He didn’t know what made him keep it to himself when Dream all but shouted it from the rooftops, but something inside of him felt it was too real to be said. Dream knew it was true, and that was good enough, right?

“Did you want to watch me pack?” George said, folding another one of his shirts and placing it in the box. Dream wasn’t paying attention. He was messing with something on his desk, his tongue sticking out and his eyebrows furrowed so tightly you could barely see his eyes. George loved his eyes, they were a warm pale green color that fit him perfectly. George snapped his fingers at Dream and asked if he was listening.

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m sorry,” Dream looked sheepish, worried. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, I just zone out sometimes, I’m really sorr—“

“Dream, Dream, calm down. It’s okay,” George smiled. “I’m not mad. Did you want me to ask the question again?”

“Please.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch me pack,” he asked, knowing which answer he hoped for.

“Ooh, can I stay on?” Dream looked giddy as he asked. “I wanna tell you about my new bedwars record.”

“Sounds perfect, Dream.”

---

It took him two more hours to finish packing up his clothes, bathroom necessities, and shoes, spare for the ones he needed on the plane. Dream had talked on and on for the whole two hours, about bedwars and what he was going to make for dinner, and how his mom sent him over homemade banana bread the other day. And even Patches made an appearance after a while.

“Oh my God, Patches! I get to meet Patches! You know Dream, I’m kind of more excited to meet her than I am you.”

“Haha, very funny,” Dream cooed. “Not like Patches will make you dinner or comfort you when you have nightmares.

“Nightmares? I do not have nightmares!” George defended, despite the fact he did definitely have nightmares. And he knew Dream knew that, he’d been the one called at 4 in the morning and the one who talked George back to sleep. It was all part of the game, though, the cat and mouse they had going on. He wondered who was the cat and who was the mouse

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Georgie. Oh, wait,” Dream smirked, laughing his ass off. George gasped and tossed his dirty shirt at his webcam, not minding the fact that it was still on his body and that he was now shirtless in his cold room.

“Hey! I wanna see the view! You look sexy with your hair messed up like that.”

“Haha, very funny,” George fake laughed, though Dream didn’t. He usually laughed after jokes like that. What made this one different? “If I wasn’t so bloody cold right now I’d leave it on there. Make you suffer all alone under there.” He heard Dream whimper, and he didn’t know what it was, but it made his stomach churn. “But, I am very, very freezing right now.”

He pulled the shirt off the webcam, covering his chest with the fabric. “There. You have been freed,” he said, slipping his shirt back on. He swore he saw Dream’s eyes linger on the strip of skin still exposed on his stomach before he pulled it down.

“I’m gonna go make some dinner,” George said, checking the time on his phone. “What, it’s already 9? Jesus. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go make some cereal real quick, stay on the call.”

George put Dream’s volume loud enough that he could hear it decently from across the flat. Meaning, Dream could also hear him burning himself.

“Did you just burn yourself? Aren’t you making cereal?”

“Um…maybe?” he said, shouting over the cold running water. “I may have accidentally left the oven on from when I made salmon last night.”

“Last night?” Dream screamed in horror. “Genuinely, how are you not dead yet?”

“I don’t know!” he said, wincing and drying off his hand before grabbing his bowl of cereal. Well, it wasn’t a bowl, but a large Tupperware container.

“Is that Tupperware?” Dream asked as he sat down at his desk.

“It was the easiest thing to unpack.”

George ate his cereal in silence for a few minutes, drinking down the last bit of the sugary milk before asking “What were you staring at earlier? When you got distracted.”

It took Dream a few seconds, but he finally remembered. “Oh! This!” He pulled out a tiny crossbow made of pencils and shot a rubber band at his camera.

“That’s actually so sick,” George said, staring more intently at his screen to get a closer look. Dream went off on a tangent about it, showing him the mechanics and everything it could shoot. He swore he’d have another one for George by the time he got home. Home. He liked that word coming out of Dream’s mouth. He liked hearing it about himself.

Eventually, it got too late for George to be up anymore. His flight left in 7 hours and he still needed to pack his PC. Dream pouted when he told him he had to go, but perked back up when he remembered the next time he’d see George, he’d be able to hug him! He was all but forcing his body to get tired after that.

“Wake me up if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Georgie,” Dream smiled. This time, he didn't sound teasing. He sounded genuine, more genuine than he’d heard in a long time.

“I… admire you too, Dream.” George’s face went flush and hot, his cheeks blotchy with pink and peach.

“Psh! When are you ever gonna say it back?”

“Never, I thought we’d been over this.”

“Mark my words, Georgie. I will get you to say it back sooner or later.”

Yeah, right.

---

a/n: so! that was the first chapter of Mr. Loverman! i’d love any feedback and opinions y’all have! the next chapter should be up in a few days, and i even have art from one of my lovely twitter mutuals coming! i hope everyone enjoyed! :D feel free to reblog<3

Chapter 2 - Linoleum Ground (date TBD)

#mrloverman #dreamnotfound #dream smp #dream #georgenotfound #sapnap #youtube rpf #dream team #minecraft youtube #mcyt #chaptered fic #chaptered #all fics

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whumphoarder · 5 years ago

Text

Death by Waffles

Summary: When Tony decides to adopt a cat for Morgan, Peter is almost more excited about it than the six-year-old. He just failed to mention one minor issue before coming to visit at the lake house for the weekend.

Or, in which Peter is horrifically allergic to cats but JUST LOVES THEM SO MUCH.

Word count: 1,638

Genre: Fluff, slight whump, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading and giving me ideas!

Link to read on Ao3

“I still think we should have called him Winston Furrchill,” Tony says with a shrug, watching Peter, who’s sitting cross legged on the living room floor, grinning ear-to-ear, stroking the long-haired cat’s fur.

“That’s so boorrring, Daddy,” Morgan complains. She grabs the little feather teaser and dangles it in front of the cat’s face. He lifts a paw lazily to bat at it. “All your ideas were so boring.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony balks at her, eliciting giggles from Peter and a dramatic groan from the six-year-old. “My ideas were gold. Mr. Meowgi. Bill Clawsby. Genghis Khat.”

Peter snaps once and shoots a finger gun Tony’s direction. “Luke Skywhisker!” he throws in, causing Morgan to groan. “Ooh! Call him Nick Furr-y!”

“No! His name is Waffles!” Morgan exclaims, throwing up her hands in exasperation and causing the kitty in question to dart across the room and dive into his favorite hiding place—the cardboard box that his brand new, untouched, three-hundred-dollar cat tree came in. Tony just rolls his eyes; it’s behavior like this that makes him almost regret spending the last four days in the workshop designing that damn feline an elaborate catwalk and perch system spanning every room of the lake house.

(Almost.)

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout.

“Aw, Mo, we were just teasing,” Peter says, patting her arm with a kind smile. “Waffles is a great name—I love it.”

That seems to console her. She grins back at him. “It’s ‘cus when we brought him home, he was really scared the first day and he just wanted to hide under my bed. So Daddy said I could eat breakfast in my room with him so he’d feel safer, but then I had to go to the bathroom and when I was gone he stole my waffle,” she rambles.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Your cat ate a waffle?”

Morgan nods. “Uh-huh, and then he puked it up again on the carpet!” she explains cheerfully.

“Ah yes, fond memories…” Tony mutters.

“So I named him Waffles,” Morgan concludes. “But I almost called him Syrup, ‘cus he got that on his paws when he walked on the plate, and then he ran around everywhere and it was all sticky. Mommy says that’s why we got ants after.”

While Peter snorts out a laugh, Tony just runs a hand over his face and sighs. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Peter laughs, rubbing a hand at his eyes. He uncrosses his legs and gets to his feet to walk over to the box where Morgan is trying to lure Waffles out again. “I always wanted a cat, but May never let me get one—said they were too much hassle.”

“They are,” Tony says emphatically.

“Are not,” Morgan disagrees. As Peter sits down by the box, she picks up the bag of kitty treats and starts shaking it, causing Waffles to poke his head out. She pours out three little treats onto her open palm. He sniffs them suspiciously, then turns his nose up and buries himself back in the box.

Morgan turns to Tony and shrugs. “I don’t think he likes chicken flavor anymore. You gotta get him the salmon ones, Daddy.”

“But you told me this morning that he doesn’t like salmon,” Tony argues. “He only eats the premium chicken with gravy.”

Morgan shakes her head. “No, no that’s his wet food. He only eats dry salmon, and wet chicken. And sometimes tuna, but only that one in the blue bag.”

“And waffles,” Peter throws in with a wry smile, sitting down to start stroking the cat inside the box. “Don’t forget the waffles, Mr. Stark.”

“At this rate, I’m thinking it’d be better to just install a cat flap and let him find his own mice for dinner,” Tony grumbles.

As if on cue, Waffles meows irritably and leaps out of the cardboard box, straight onto Peter’s lap. However in doing so, the cat’s fluffy tail tickles the kid’s nose. Peter sneezes twice—rather violently—startling the cat to the point that it shoots across the room and climbs halfway up the drapes.

“Waffles!” Morgan cries and races after him.

Sniffling a bit, Peter gives a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

Tony rolls his eyes and extends a hand to help lever the kid up again. Peter rubs at his eyes again—which Tony notices are redder than usual. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you sure ‘too much hassle’ was the only reason May was against you having cats?”

Something flashes across Peter’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “Yeah, yeah of course. Well, that and she’s more of a dog person, really, but they’re not allowed in the apartment.”

“Hm.” Tony glances at his watch. “Alright, well it’s almost His Royal Highness’ dinner time.” He gestures to the kitchen. “Let’s go see if we can get him to choke down some caviar and truffles or something…”

Three hours later, Tony can’t ignore the signs any longer. After witnessing Peter’s third sneezing fit since dinner, he privately pulls the kid out into the kitchen. “Pete, c’mon,” he sighs. “Just admit it already.”

Taking a tissue from the box Tony holds out to him, Peter shrugs innocently. “Alright, you got me. Guess I’m coming down with a cold.” He wipes his nose.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “A cold that began ten minutes after entering our home and has only gotten progressively worse since?”

Peter chuckles a bit. “Yeah, go figure, right? Perfect timing for my weekend off. What does Doctor Banner call that again?” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “Starts with an L…”

“Pete…”

“Leisure sickness!” he recalls, his face lighting up. “That’s the word. Think I’ve got that.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony starts ticking each symptom off on his fingers. “Your nose is running, your eyes are watery, you’re sneezing—”

“Which is all from the cold,” Peter cuts him off. He coughs twice into his elbow. “See? Sick.”

Tony scoffs. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once admitted to being sick unprompted.” He pauses a beat. “Including that time you were actively vomiting.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck and gives a sheepish grin. “So I'm really demonstrating growth, then, huh?”

Tony ignores him and soldiers on. “You’re itching,” he says, gesturing to the red welts emerging on Peter’s forearms and neck. “You’re getting a rash—”

Peter tugs his hoodie sleeves down to cover them. “I think that’s the new laundry soap I’ve been using...”

Tony blinks at him. “Your eyes are bright red, kid.”

Peter opens his mouth to retort something, but then closes it again. He drops his gaze to the floor and lets out a hard sigh. “Okay… okay you’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna say it around Morgan.” He looks up and, with a totally straight expression, whispers, “I’ve been smoking weed, Mr. Stark. I’m actually tripping balls right now.”

“Peter, just admit that you’re allergic to cats!”

“Huh?” Morgan cries from the living room where she has her kitty on her lap while she watches Curious George. “Peter’s allergic to Waffles?!” The cat dives off her lap and out into the kitchen, hiding behind Peter’s leg.

Peter winces. Then his nose wrinkles up and he sneezes four times into his wad of tissues. When he draws in his next breath, it’s more of a wheeze.

Tony heaves out a sigh. “Alright, we’re done here.” He bends down and scoops the cat up. “Waffles is staying in Pep’s office for the remainder of this weekend.”

“What?” Morgan blurts.

“Yeah, what?” Peter echos, snatching the cat back from Tony’s arms. “You can’t do that!”

“Pete, he’s making you sick,” Tony points out as Peter sneezes yet again. “If you’re already this bad in three hours, how do you expect to breathe in a couple more days?”

Peter looks stricken. “But… But you don’t understand.” He hugs the cat a little tighter and Tony swears he can see fresh hives emerging on Peter’s neck. “I just love him so much, Mr. Stark,” he says earnestly. “I would honestly die for this cat.”

Tony sighs and pats his shoulder consolingly. “Yeah, and that’s looking more and more like it might become reality, kiddo...”

It takes some convincing—and a bit of bribery—but eventually he gets the kids to agree to his plan. In the end, Morgan and Peter settle for a six-foot-tall ‘Royal Castle Kitty Condo’ (complete with a litter moat) in exchange for Waffles’ temporary banishment. He then sends Peter to the guest room while he and Morgan transfer the cat’s most essential supplies into the office, grateful for once that Pepper’s staying downtown this weekend.

Waffles promptly makes himself at home on the very top of her bookshelf—after first knocking over two glass figurines and a meticulously ordered stack of papers, sending legal documents flying around the room.

(Tony wonders just what kind of royal castle equivalent he’s going to have to bribe Pepper with when she gets back.)

It’s 12:16 a.m. when Tony remembers that they forgot to give Waffles his anti-hairball paste that evening and comes grumbling out of bed to do so.

It’s 12:19 a.m. when Tony opens the office door to see Peter, sitting on the floor with that damn cat curled up in his lap, wheezing out a high-pitched chant of, “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a good boy?” between puffs of his inhaler as he strokes Waffles’ fur.

It’s 12:21 a.m. when Tony just gives up trying to reason with the kid and goes raiding the bathroom cabinets for Benadryl.

Link to all my fics

If you liked this story, you might also like:

Beanimia

Morgan Stark, M.D.

Fevers, Bananas, & Math Lessons

#fluff #domestic fluff #irondad #irondad fic #morgan stark #Peter Parker & tony stark #cats #allergies #sick peter parker #peter parker whump #my fic #tony stark has a heart #peter parker is a little shit

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pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

Text

Alex had once joked about being in one of hell’s circles. Michael knew better.

Hell’s circle, the worst that could’ve been, was walking into Alex’s house to ask him about a weird coding he couldn’t crack, only to hear the airman’s moans coming out of the bedroom.

Michael’s footsteps came to a still as he heard a voice horrifyingly close to Forrest’s encouraging him to scream louder.

“I want to hear you, baby,” he breathed, his voice only slightly muffled through the closed bedroom door.

Michael’s eye twitched, his fingers trembled, and the file in his hand fell to the ground, forgotten. He felt a lump in his throat and he stumbled back, Alex’s moans and Forrest’s grunts following him.

Michael pressed his hands against his ears. He could feel his heartbeat racing faster the longer he stayed inside, listening to Alex have sex with someone else. Someone else touching his airman, running their hands down his chest, his arms, his legs, his cock.

Michael flinched and turned to leave, to run. He didn’t stop until he was in his truck, and then he wouldn’t take his foot off the gas until he was back in front of the airstream. The truck was trembling, the glass shook, the ground was moving, as was the trailer.

Michael breathed heavily as he stumbled out of his truck and ran as far into the desert as he could.

“AH!” he screamed when his legs wouldn’t carry him any further, slamming his fists into the ground. The earth shook violently, sand rained down, and when Michael opened his eyes, he found himself kneeling in a crater twice the size of his airstream with cracks spreading out in the ground from the center.

Michael hugged himself tightly as he doubled over. Why was he freaking out? He knew Alex was having sex with Forrest, they were dating after all. So why did this bother him so much?

Because you didn’t believe that Alex could ever really want to sleep with anyone else but you, a small voice in the back of his head taunted.

“Shut up,” Michael hissed, and the ground shook again. He shut his eyes tight, but Alex’s moans still echoed in his head, his pleasure coming from someone else. Michael hugged himself so tightly that his nails pierced his arms and bled. He wished he’d never gone over to see Alex today, he wished he could’ve gone on to believe that Alex would never so much as really kiss anyone else, let alone sleep with them.

But he couldn’t, because that wasn’t the truth. Alex was sleeping with someone else, someone who wasn’t Michael, someone who could never cherish him the way Michael did.

Someone that will probably cherish him more, the voice mocked and Michael nearly screamed again.

He didn’t remember falling asleep in the crater, didn’t remember having an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, didn’t remember the raging headache and feeling as if someone had vacuumed out his stomach, stuffed it back, then emptied it out again. All he knew, as he woke up covered in dust and bruises from the rocks digging into his body the next morning, was that Alex was officially with someone else, was falling asleep and waking up naked with someone else.

Michael forced himself up, trudging towards the airstream, though he couldn’t think of what he could possibly need from there. He wasn’t hungry, his body ached, but if he slept any more, he was sure he would never wake up again, and he didn’t feel like changing out of his clothes.

He’d barely opened the door when his phone buzzed in his pocket, waking him from his haze. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen for a moment before he realized who the text was from and nearly dropped his phone on the ground. He caught it just in time and opened the chat. It was from Alex.

Can we talk?

Michael swallowed, rubbing his eyes furiously before struggling to type in a response. Seeing Alex now was all he wanted. Why would the airman be texting him the morning after he and Forrest had slept together? Obviously, there could only have been one reason; Alex was unsatisfied with other men. He must’ve known what Michael did; that they belonged to each other and no one could ever take their place.

Alex wanted to meet at the Crashdown, so as soon as Michael had typed in his response that he would be there, he was running towards his truck and slamming on the gas. He pulled up in front of the diner and spotted Alex through a window. He froze for a moment, taking in his airman’s appearance. Alex was wearing that blue flannel shirt Michael loved so much, with a dark hoodie and jeans. His hair was nicely windswept – or as if someone had run their hands through it, the voice returned. Michael clenched his jaw and forced it down.

Alex was dressed, was here alone, and was waiting for Michael.

Michael raked a hand through his curls, dusted off his jacket as much as he could, and went inside. He feigned nonchalance, putting his hands in his pockets as he made a show of looking around for Alex. His eyes caught Alex’s as the airman gave him a half-amused smile that said he wasn’t buying Michael’s act in the slightest.

“So?” Michael prompted as he slid into the booth. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” Alex confessed quietly, his hands folded on the table.

“You asked me to,” Michael said, and Alex’s lips tugged into a smile at the reminder of his own words months ago.

But as Alex inhaled deeply, his smile fell to something more determined, as if he was preparing for battle. Michael wanted to reassure him right then that he had nothing to worry about; of course they could give their relationship another chance. In fact, Michael was ready to drag Alex back to the airstream with him right now and touch him so desperately and so lovingly and so deeply that anyone else’s trace on him would vanish.

Then Alex reached into his jacket and pulled out a file. And not just any file, but the file Michael had brought over last night and forgotten behind.

Alex set it on the table between them and they were both left staring in silence.

“I –” Michael started, but Alex cut him off.

“You were there last night,” he said. “You left my front door open. A stray cat came in. It was an interesting morning.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I have a cat now.”

“I can explain,” he tried again, but Alex shook his head, his smile small.

“No need,” Alex said. “I get the gist.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Are you okay?”

Michael scoffed and opened his mouth to say that he was definitely okay, super okay, not even a little bit not okay… then his eyes filled with tears and his smile fell apart.

Alex pursed his lips and nodded, giving Michael a moment to compose himself again. Children, teenagers, and adults alike enjoyed the morning chatter and coffee while Michael sniffled in his booth, avoiding Alex’s eyes as he tried to gain control. After minutes – or it could’ve been hours – Michael huffed and rubbed his face with one hand.

“I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, but Alex’s eyes twinkled sympathetically.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Michael shook his head. “Was this… how you felt when… when…”

Alex raised a brow. “When you and Maria were together?” Michael winced and Alex leaned in. “Guerin, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay,” Alex sighed, “it’s not. This is going to hurt. I can’t stop that.”

Michael looked up, his brows furrowed. “You didn’t break up with him?”

Alex looked completely unsurprised by the question. “No.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“But… but he’s not me.”

Alex leaned his chin on his palm, smiling sadly at Michael. “No, he’s most definitely not.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

At this, Alex faltered. “You know that’s not true,” he finally said.

“No?” Michael scoffed, unable to help himself. “Please, Alex, you’re turning your back on me again.”

Alex said nothing a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you don’t mean that. You’re just upset.”

“You’ve never stayed for me, but you’ll stay for some stranger –”

“That stranger told me he loved me after a few months,” Alex said edgily. “You had years and you gave that confession to someone else.”

Michael fell silent for a long moment. Then, “How did you know that?”

Alex’s shoulders fell. “Does it matter? Nothing you say is going to make it hurt any less.”

“I didn’t mean,” Michael shook his head. “When I said that, I didn’t mean it like I – like I mean it for you. Alex, you’re so far beyond an I love you. What I feel for you is… it’s so much more than that.”

Alex nodded and sniffed. “You know, I really wish I believed you. And maybe… maybe if she hadn’t been the one to end things, maybe if you hadn’t said what you’d said, maybe if… maybe if I hadn’t had to spend an entire year watching you look after her in a way you’d never done for me… maybe then I’d buy that this whole thing was more than you just trying to hold on to your second choice because your first one opted out.”

Michael frowned, his brows furrowed. “Alex…”

Was that really what Alex thought of himself? A second choice? Michael’s backup? He tried to argue with the airman and tell him of all the times he’d fought for him, he’d cared for him, and… he came up with nothing. When Alex had been kidnapped, Michael had fought like hell to get him back… then he’d left him alone in favor of going back to his girlfriend.

“What?” Alex said without looking at Michael. “Nothing to say?” He sighed, turning to slide out of the booth, his disappointment evident. “Well, that’s a first.”

“Alex, wait, wait,” Michael stood, taking Alex’s arm. “Come on, this can’t really be how it ends. It’s us.”

Alex searched Michael’s face a moment, unfazed, before he softly said, “I love you, Michael.” Michael stared, his hands falling limp to his sides. The corner of Alex’s lips tugged upward slightly in a small, half-smile. “I wanted you to be the first to hear those words from me. I’ve tried being selfish, and I’ve tried putting your happiness in front of mine, and neither seems to make a difference. I’ve just never been worth it to you.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, a tear rolling down his cheek which he quickly wiped away. He smiled. “You asked me how I felt when you and Maria had gotten together. The truth is, Guerin, you couldn’t possibly understand how much that hurt me. How I felt like dying every second of every day. How unimportant I felt. It was like I was screaming my feelings in everything I did, and you didn’t hear me. Or worse, you did, and you just didn’t care.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what that was like. And you never will, because I tried fighting for you, and you turned me down again and again, and I let you every time because I cared more about your happiness than about you being with me. Now, you’ll do the same. I’m not asking you to lower your walls anymore for me, Guerin, I don’t think you care enough to do that, but I am asking you to stop trying to hurt me.”

When Michael spoke, his voice was hoarse, a lump lodged in his throat. “So loving me hurts you?”

Alex leaned in and kissed Michael’s cheek, lingering. Horribly, Michael felt that he might cry.

“I told you I wouldn’t stand in your way,” Alex said, “and you didn’t stop me.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t true until you made it true, Guerin. I’m sorry it’s not the epic ending you had in mind.”

And Alex walked past Michael out the door.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #forlex #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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beastlywritings · 4 years ago

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CH 2

Pairing: Eskel/OC (Lae’elan) AFAB NB (but gender doesn’t come into it until later)

Summary: After having a rough night of ignoring desire, Eskel is convinced to let Lae’elan tag along. She shows she’s worth the pains and adorable to boot.

Rating for this chapter: PG-13 for sexual innuendo and suggested sexual acts, as well as talk of masturbation TW (this chapter): manipulation, self consciousness about scars and appearance, eating fish raw, sexual thoughts of another person and feeling icky about it, masturbation mention, cruel self-talk, gratuitous use of italics for thoughts

AN: betaed only for grammar and spelling, but not content. If you wanna gimme some concrit, I’d be grateful; this is my first time posting fic in years and I’m rusty as hell. Hold on to your pants, kids, this whole fic is gonna be a saga. Also I know Lan is a mary-sue. I’m well aware. Deal with it. She’s bits and pieces of me and my ideal self.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Eye ones were custom, swirls were premade. Go visit them! Awesome work.

Eskel brought himself back to the world an hour before sunrise proper. The urge to just run and avoid the shapeshifter flitted through his mind as he looked across the banked firepit at her sleeping, thankfully humanoid, form. He shook the thought away, running a hand through his hair. No, she’d been nothing but kind and good conversation; she deserved a good-bye at the very least.

Don’t run from a good thing like Wolf did, he scolded himself. She wanted to stay with him. Why, he had no clue. Surely he wasn’t that good of a conversation partner, he reiterated his thoughts from the night before.

Leaving the clearing and walking a few paces, Eskel moved behind a bush to relieve himself. He considered how quickly he was adapting to having a campmate that was not one of his brothers. He’d immediately offered to hunt for her, had done his best to entertain her, and now he was not only leaving the clearing to piss, but also hiding himself from her potential gaze to preserve modesty while he had his dick out. It had been shockingly easy. He remembered Geralt complaining at how annoying it had been to get accustomed to camping with Jaskier.

Don’t get used to it. She’ll leave you soon enough. Her proposal. What was he going to say? She’ll want an answer soon as she wakes, no doubt. What could she possibly want tagging along. Must have some ulterior motive.

But what if she doesn’t? What if she only wants some companionship like she says? What then? Do I want someone trailing along beside me? He made his way back, head more full of questions than when he left.

Rummaging through the saddlebags slung over a hefty branch to find the jerky he’d stashed, he considered his next move.

Last night was nice, he conceded, breaking his fast. He watched her for a minute, her breaths even and the rise and fall of her chest calming. I’ll ask what she’s after. Besides, she’s not like Jaskier; can probably hold her own, protect herself. He realized he’d just argued in her favor. Wiping a hand down his face, he wondered if this was how Geralt had felt like in Dol Blathanna all those years ago.

A rustle, and an uptick in heart rate and breathing. Eskel would get his answers soon enough; Lae’elan was waking.

She roused with a large yawn, not bothering to cover her mouth with its curling tongue and sharp teeth. Blearily, she noticed Eskel looking at her, arms crossed as he stood leant against a tree.

“Mornin’ Eskel,” she smiled, rubbing her eyes before shaking her head like a dog. Her long ears made a plap plap plap noise as they bent and slapped against her head. She looked much more alert now.

“Mmmm there, that’s more like it,” she said, getting to her feet, “So did you think about my offer?” she asked, stretching out her back with arms over her head. Eskel watched her and hummed.

“And your answer?” she asked, rolling her eyes fondly.

“What do you want tagging along with a witcher?” She sighed at his question as he eyed her suspiciously.

“I come out of nature every so often, typically for a single day to get my fill of actual conversation. Normally,” she said, taking a few steps towards him and crossing her own arms, “I’m stuck talking to closed-minded humans about mundane shit and politics,” she winced at the word with obvious distaste, “Normally, I have to hide what I am. Normally, I’m sick of humanity after just a few hours and I fuck back off to wander the woods as a creature. You, Eskel, you’re interesting, I can be myself, and, most of all, you’re kind,” she finished, shrugging. He narrowed his eyes further.

“Look, I’m not saying I want to stick to you forever like your brother’s bard; I’ll get sick of having hands and human niceties just as I always do,” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis. Eskel couldn’t stop the snort that escaped at that. “I’m just intrigued that I don’t find myself sick of them yet. That hasn’t happened in quite some time,”

“You know travelling with me would be dangerous. I don’t skate around the monsters; I head straight for them. And you’d be expected to pull your weight.” She laughed, tilting her head back.

“Monsters don’t scare me, witcher. I’m sure I’ve likely killed almost as many as you and without getting paid. And it would be no more dangerous than my normal existence,” she chuckled, coming closer again. She noted that Eskel straightened up a bit. “And like last night, I wouldn’t dream of mooching. You’d be surprised at how much I can do for you. I’m a shite cook, but I can hunt bigger game much easier than you in a quarter of the time, and find roughage on top of that. Could keep you well fed. I can mend and embroider passably if you supply materials. I can keep watch if needs be, act as a nursemaid if you get hurt, and hell, if you wanted a break I could probably either help with big hunts or just outright do your small contracts for you. You can even keep the coin; I’ve no need for it, that’s for sure,” she finished, making sure to leave out the option of being his bedwarmer as well. She didn’t want to push too much after last night.

“Sounds too good to be true,” Eskel pushed himself off the tree, “Means it most likely is. What’s in it for you?” he jutted his chin out at her.

“Companionship from the first interesting person I’ve met in years, a little extra adventure…” she said. Eventually the information I’ve been searching for my whole life over, she thought. Ah fuck, she couldn’t help it. “And honestly, there are a few other benefits,” she smirked, eyeing him up and down. She hoped that the flirting covered up the lurch in her heart beat. “What can I say, you’re eye candy, and I don’t deny myself looking at pretty things,” she hummed. His nostrils flared, but not in anger. He was scenting her. She knew herself well enough to know he smelled the faint traces of lust coming off her. She was banking on it. He looked conflicted. Fuck, too far? she questioned herself.

“You keep… What’s so--” he grunted, frustrated with himself, with his difficulty voicing his thoughts. “Fine,” he sighed, “You can come with me, but I warn you, I bump elbows with humans quite often. Towns and cities alike.” He looked her up and down, still trying to figure her out, assessing her.

“And at those junctures you’ll either be rid of me, or I can keep your horse company in the stable. I make a fine barn cat,” she smiled, approaching the big black warhorse.

“Wait! He--” Eskel put out a hand to stop her, but she held her own towards Scorpion and he came sedately to her hand to be pet. Eskel was shocked. He barely let stableboys pet him after taking care of him for a few days. Lae’elan chuckled.

“Another thing about me?” she said, petting down the stallion’s face, “Is that all animals love me.” Scorpion snorted, demanding more nose pets. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eskel’s head tilt and his brows pull together, confused and bewildered. It was clear he’d been expecting a violent reaction.

“He-- He never-- He hates being pet by strangers. Can’t count how many times he’s bit stableboys,” he muttered.

“With me, you’ll never be bothered by another wolf pack, bull moose, or rutting elk again,” she hummed, continuing her petting session but looking straight at Eskel.

“Can you…”

“Talk to them? In a manner of speaking. I more… mentally order and they either acquiesce or get ornery before eventually giving in. Some creatures are more… suggestable,” she sighed, trying to collect thoughts in a sensical manner, “If you mean actually having a conversation.... Most animals communicate with body language. If I have the same body, I can speak their own tongue directly at them, easy. In a humanoid form, less so. I can alter my vocal chords for certain things that have more vocal elements of communication, like that crow last night, and for howling to wolves, and a few others. I sat my ass down and learned the vocal parts of the language fully for those.” Scorpion nipped at her hair and tugged and she laughed brightly.

“Cheeky!” she hummed, petting him, “I think someone’s ready to go if you are.” She blew a raspberry at the horse and he knocked her with his massive head. She even allowed herself to be moved.

At that, Eskel began loading up his horse, shaking his head in disbelievement.

“So,” she began, “Where to?” They’d been on the road, walking in relative silence for a bit. Eskel eyed her paws from where he sat astride Scorpion.

“Nowhere in particular. Next town’s a few days away; check the notice board there,” He glanced down again. She was still very much not human.

“You’re staring. Don’t worry, I’ll change as soon as I hear anyone coming,” she smiled up at him, “You don’t need to worry about me. No one’s caught me in decades. I’m careful,”

“Hence the stalking me for a day,” he joked, smiling. It wasn’t particularly comforting that she had been caught, period, but he supposed he was careful and had gotten ambushed all the same in the past.

“There’s your sense of humor! Knew you had one!” She kidded. Eskel smiled a tiny bit more at her jabbing back. “But yes, I’d rather not get hunted down and caged for a menagerie or a mage’s whims, so caution is my code.” His small smile made Lae’elan’s even brighter. She couldn’t help it; it was such a cute smile, and a good look on him.

Eskel was amazed at how well she kept up with him, walking alongside the horse. She never seemed to get out of breath or slow, keeping perfect pace, her paws propelling her along quickly. She was sweating a fair bit, but then again, he was sweating some as well despite not exerting himself.

And she was alert and adept as she led on, too. She’d put a hand on his leg in the stirrup suddenly and he watched as she shifted, the horns and ears melding into a human form, her eyes dulling to a whiskey brown. Her paws turned to normal human feet, the toes peeking out from under the dress when she walked from his perspective. Others would likely see her whole foot, the skirt landing at about ankle height. The sight was discomfiting, though he couldn’t place why exactly.

“What--”

“People. A cart,” she said, under her breath. He listened, but didn’t hear anything; the place where she’d touched him felt like it was buzzing. He realized it had been the first time she’d touched him. A few seconds and he heard them, the humans on a cart, from around the bend.

Her hearing is better than mine, he realized, surprised. She was silent, not looking in their direction, only straight ahead. The merchants scowled at him as they passed each other, Eskel steering his single horse closer to the shoulder. He knew they could both hear the slurs and spitting coming from the occupants. He watched her, and saw she didn’t react until they were past, and only then a hardening of the eyes. Once they were a few minutes behind them, and they made no signs of following them, Lae’elan shifted back. Again, watching the change so closely made him uneasy, making his eyes ache as if he’d been staring at a book for hours.

“Try not to watch so much,” she suggested, catching him blink a few times, “Give you a headache if you watch too closely.”

At around noon, Eskel began to pull over into the trees at the side of the road. Dismounting, he asked,

“Don’t suppose those ears of yours hear water?” He couldn’t hear any himself.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, listening for a second before pointing forward and to the right a bit. “Yep, not much, but there’s a trickle that-a-way,” Eskel looked a bit skeptically in the direction she pointed, and, focusing, he couldn’t hear the breathing or shifting of bandits, and so found no reason to doubt her. After a minute of leading Scorpion into the woods, he began hearing the sounds of water as well.

They found it was a runoff from uphill, barely trickling down from a recent rain. Eskel was glad they’d filled canteens from the stream Lae’elan had found last night before they’d moved on, and that it wasn’t so hot that they’d drank much at all. The water was gritty with sandy dirt, but clean enough for the horse as he bent his head to drink. Eskel drank a bit, but elected to not waste time trying to refill the little space in his canteen.

“Have to keep our ears out as we go along,” he grunted, standing. The shapeshifter was sipping, mouth to the water rather than using her hands, when the wind changed. Her head snapped up and a wide smile lit up her face.

“What’s your opinion on raspberries?”

“Why?”

“You can’t smell ‘em?” she asked. He gave her a blank look. “Damn, alright, wait here. I’m gonna go get us some lunch,” she laughed, skipping off into the trees.

Eskel laid back in the shade and watched the clouds, waiting. It couldn’t hurt; they were making good time. A few minutes later, he turned to the sound of twigs snapping and reached for his swords before stopping. He was getting to know her pleased giggle quite well, he realized as the shapeshifter broke through the cover of the trees. She was still in her base form, her dress pulled up to the length that would be mid-thigh level on a human to create a pouch. The pocket of fabric was heavy, laden with berries. Her fingers and lips, he noticed with a chuckle, were stained red and purple. He focused on that rather than the fact that he was rather close to seeing too much of her for his comfort.

“Found some blackberries, too!” she said, sounding pleased as punch, “Here, help yourself! As you can see, I had a few already,” She hummed and plopped down next to him, thankfully obscuring her legs beneath the rest of her dress.

“Quite a haul,” he noted, smiling as he took a handful of the black berries. Popping a few in his mouth, the tart-sweet taste burst on his tongue. They were warm from the sun. He hummed in enjoyment.

“Raspberries are my favorite,” she admitted, shovelling a handful of the red fruit into her mouth and grinned, chewing, “Didn’t have breakfast like an idiot, so a roadsnack was overdue.”

“There’s no way you’re gonna eat all of those,” he shook his head, “You’ll make yourself sick,”

“You’d be surprised. Takes a lot to fill me completely. This,” she said, circling a finger around her hoard of fruit, “I can put away no problem.” She hoped he caught the double entendre. “I can eat half a deer in one sitting [i]easy.[/i] Both halves if I haven’t eaten in a day. But I did get a bunch of them for you, too. Wasn’t sure how much you could put away,” she shrugged, popping back another handful of mixed berries. Eskel was careful to take mostly blackberries, and found himself a little embarrassed at the realization he was leaving her favorites for her.

They finished the berries, to Eskel’s surprise, and he found himself pleasantly more full than he normally would be, but not overfull. He’d eaten quite well in the past day. Maybe she is a good idea, afterall, he mused, looking down at his companion, who smiled up at him, one eye closed to the sun’s glare. Eskel felt his gut clench, pleased. Or maybe not. Taglist: @its--fandom--darling

#Eskelxoc #Shifterverse #mywriting #the witcher #witcher fanfic #tw3ff #oc fanfic #witcher oc #Let! Es! Fuck! Monsters!#ch 2

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moonlight-breeze-44 · 5 years ago

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Always With You

Summary: Magnus and Alec have a ‘date night’ and talk about becoming Inquisitor and the High Warlock of Alicante. Fluffy fluff fluff.

Read on AO3

"Magnus, you didn't have to do all of this for me," Alec objected, a rosy blush colouring his pale cheeks. He was chewing his lip, clearly conflicted over the candlelit dinner Magnus had set up. It was their only day off for quite some time, and Magnus had spared no expense. The tablecloth was fine Italian silk, and the wine was a lavish brand Alec recognised only from Jace's 'guilty pleasure' magazines. The overhead lights had been transformed into soft white lighting that cast an almost enchanting glow over their table. Dinner was steak and potatoes with buttery rolls on the side. Alec was used to Magnus's insistence that they have only the best on their date nights, but he was still a little overwhelmed by the grand gesture.

"Nonsense, darling," Magnus replied, pulling Alec out of his own thoughts and back into their conversation. "I wanted it to be a special night."

"Well, thank you," Alec said, looking down shyly. "I love it."

"Good," Magnus chirped, and he reached over to pull the chair out for Alec. Alec sat, and they began to eat. Chairman Meow wandered over and rubbed himself against Alec's legs, purring. Alec smiled softly. The cat was the last piece of the puzzle needed for him to relax and simply enjoy the dinner with his husband. Magnus, who was even better than Alec himself at picking up on subtle changes in his behaviour, gave Alec a bright smile and locked their ankles together under the table.

"How's the campaign coming?" Magnus inquired. "I asked Isabelle yesterday, but she just said it was 'top-secret'."

Alec smirked. "Good for her."

"Why all the secrecy?" Magnus whined. "I'm your husband. I deserve to know these things, Alexander."

"Well, I have something to show you after dinner," Alec promised. He took a deep breath and reached over the table to squeeze Magnus's hand. "It's going to change a lot of things, Mags."

Magnus raised their interwoven hands and kissed Alec's knuckles. "It won't change my love for you, and that's what's important. Anything else, we can deal with."

Alec felt suddenly and violently grateful for Magnus Lightwood-Bane. His throat closed with emotion, and he roughly shook his head, embarrassed at himself.

Magnus smiled and changed the subject. "Did you feed Chairman today? He looks hungry."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Don't be fooled by his act, Magnus. He does this every day. Haven't you noticed?"

Magnus appeared taken aback. "He's not like that!"

"Not like what, exactly?" Alec raised an eyebrow.

"He's not dishonest!"

Alec chuckled. "Magnus, he's a cat."

"Yes, well, he's not a dishonest cat!"

Alec shook his head. A small smile turned the corners of his mouth up, and he took a bite of steak before answering. "I don't think cats know what honesty is."

"That's ridiculous!" Magnus sputtered. "You know, people are quick to assume that animals are nothing like us because they can't communicate the way we do. But I've had cats for over 200 years, Alexander. They know what honesty is. They're honorable."

"I think that's open for debate," Alec countered. "At least in the case of the Chairman."

Magnus sputtered indignantly but chose not to respond. Instead, he took a roll, tore it in half, and fed half of it to the cat, who was waiting underneath the table with a confident, self-satisfied gleam to his eyes.

Alec rolled his eyes. "You need to stop feeding him human food, Magnus. He's obese."

"No, he's not. He's just fluffy."

Alec shook his head in exasperation, chuckling. "You're blind when it comes to those that you love, Mags."

"Mm, how true that is, Alexander." Magnus rose a few feet from his chair to press a light kiss to Alec's lips.

Alec hummed in gratitude when Magnus pulled away, popping the last piece of steak into his mouth. "I'll clean the dishes," Alec offered, standing up. "Since you made dinner."

"I didn't make dinner, darling. I borrowed dinner from a restaurant in New Hampshire. And I'm too eager to see this surprise of yours to wait for you to clean up all the soap you'll get on my counter in the process of washing the dishes." He snapped his fingers and the plates and utensils disappeared, along with the leftover steak.

Alec pointed to the half-full platter of potatoes. "What are you going to do with those?"

"...give them to the cats."

"Magnus."

"They're hungry! Look at them!" He pointed to the double doors leading to the balcony, where several other cats that Magnus fed had congregated, meowing pitifully and looking at Chairman Meow with something akin to jealousy.

"They're deceiving you, Magnus. You gave them cream this morning, remember?"

Magnus did remember. "That doesn't mean anything. We have three meals a day, and they're only supposed to live on one?"

Alec sighed, inserting every bit of overdramatic Lightwood flair he could muster up into the sound. Magnus smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "Go wait for me in the living room, darling. And get that surprise ready, would you?" He threw his husband a glittery wink before disappearing onto the balcony.

When Magnus returned, Alec had settled himself on the sofa and pulled up the email. His hands shook and his thick black hair clung to his perspiration-dotted forehead. This was it. Time to tell Magnus what was going on.

For better or for worse.

"So what is this?" Magnus asked, gesturing to the email on Alec's phone screen.

"Here. Read." Alec thrust the phone into Magnus's hands.

When Magnus got to the end of the email, to Alec's surprise, he was beaming.

"Oh, Alexander, this is wonderful! Congratulations!" Magnus pulled Alec into a tight hug. "I knew you would be appointed Inquisitor. I'm so happy for you, sweetheart."

"Y-You're not upset?"

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?"

"Because the Inquisitor position is in Alicante," Alec mumbled. "It's - I mean - I couldn't possibly portal back home to New York every night."

"Alec, look at me." Magnus cupped Alec's cheek in his palm and tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet Magnus's eyes. "Distance means nothing to me. While it is, of course, preferable to have you close, I will love you no matter where you are in the world. Distance can do nothing against our bond." He raised his hand, on which the Lightwood family ring stood out proudly, for emphasis.

Alec felt tears rise to his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. "Magnus, I - you have no idea how much that means to me. I just - I just thought the distance might be too much for you. Alicante is a long way from home." He bit his lip and focused his gaze on his lap once more.

"Well, though I stand by my original point, I have a surprise for you, as well," Magnus said. He raised his hand and, a few seconds later, a scroll flew into his hand from their bedroom. He handed it over to Alec, smiling. "Read it."

Dear Mr. Lightwood-Bane, Due to your unique skill set, we would like to request your presence in Alicante. The Head of the New York Institute, Mr. Alexander Lightwood-Bane, and his Downworld Cabinet have brought to our attention the need for a more open, welcoming environment here in the city. We would like to ask you to be the first High Warlock of Alicante. Should you choose to accept this offer, please send a return message with your confirmation and we will arrange a date to discuss further details, including your salary and the hours you will be expected to be available for work. Thank you very much. Please reply at your earliest convenience. Sincerely, Consul Penhallow & staff

Alec peered up at Magnus from beneath his lashes, blinking incredulously. "Mags, how long have you known about this?"

"About as long as you've known you won the race for Inquisitor," Magnus replied. He smirked at Alec's dumbfounded expression. "Of course I could tell, darling," he said, reading his husband's mind. "You were giddy with joy from the moment they emailed you." Alec chuckled. After all, Magnus wasn't wrong. Despite his misgivings about how it would affect his future with his husband, Alec had been overjoyed to learn he was to be the new Inquisitor. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but then there was that mishap with one of the werewolf packs and the vampire clan, and then you had that nest of Drevak demons to deal with - " Magnus cut himself off with a smile. "Anyway, it just never seemed like the right time."

"And you want to? Accept the offer, I mean."

"I do," Magnus replied steadily. "I've thought about it, and New York is my home. It's where I found my place after nearly a century of wandering the Earth, not quite fitting in anywhere I went. It's where I've lived for the past 200 years and it's where I want to be when I die. But Alicante is a new opportunity, and I want to embrace it. I can very easily see myself being quite happy there. The fact that I am allowed in at all to a city that was once warded against all Downworlders is sign enough that things are changing, and I have you to thank for that. Being the first of my kind to take the leap and change old prejudices is something I dream about. Besides, I can take the best of New York with me." He gestured to his apartment, sweeping over the cats, still huddled around the plate of mashed potatoes, and the framed picture of Catarina that hung on the wall, before turning to Alec and placing a sound kiss on his lips. "Wherever you go, Alexander, I'm right there with you."

Alec rested his forehead against Magnus's and exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you want to go." He looked up to meet Magnus's eyes. "I agree with everything you were saying earlier, about distance not being able to diminish what we feel, but I think I need to see you." He huffed a breath of a laugh. "If I didn't have you there with me, I think I'd go insane from all of the Clave's politics."

Alec, now fully relaxed with the knowledge that he was not going to be leaving his husband behind to further his career in Alicante, slumped into Magnus's side, resting his head on Magnus's shoulder. Magnus kissed it absentmindedly, reaching down to run his fingers through Alec's hair. Alec purred in delight when Magnus's nails scratched over his scalp, and buried his face into the bright purple vest Magnus was wearing in order to give him more access.

"I wouldn't blame you, sweetheart. The Clave can be quite intolerable." Alec hummed in response.

"Are you tired?"

"No," Alec said, suppressing a yawn.

Magnus chuckled. "Sure you aren't. Come on, darling, let's go to bed."

"But it's only eight!"

"And numbers mean nothing," Magnus said firmly. "We can go to bed whenever we'd like to. Come on, get up."

"I'm pretty comfy right here."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "We are not sleeping on the couch again, Alexander."

"You go on ahead. I'll join you in a minute."

"No, you won't," Magnus said knowingly. "You'll fall asleep here and wake up with a sore neck and a bad attitude. Come on, darling, just a few steps."

"Can't you just use magic?" Alec whined. "You're warm. I don't want to move."

"Alright, alright," Magnus relented. A wisp of cool blue floated from his fingertips and surrounded Alec, levitating him into the bedroom while maintaining the comfortable warmth from the couch. Magnus followed shortly afterwards, magicking himself and Alec into suitable sleepwear.

Alec curled up on his side of the bed and called out for Magnus impatiently. Magnus chuckled and slid underneath the red silk sheets, pressing himself to his husband’s side. He dropped a light kiss to Alec's forehead and pulled him close.

By the time Magnus had buried his face in Alec's hair, ripe with the scent of sandalwood and citrus, and whispered, "Goodnight," Alec was already asleep, snoring quietly next to the man he loved.

Centuries' worth of heartbreak seemed like nothing at all when Magnus was with Alec.

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maximoffvizh · 5 years ago

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fic: every witch needs a familiar

post-endgame fic born out of a conversation on twitter, sam and wanda friendship ft. a kitten

The apartment echoes with emptiness. Not her apartment, not yet. Just a collection of rooms with only the most basic furniture, only blinds over the windows instead of curtains. A world of blank walls and empty shelves, and her hollowed out self at the centre of it all, quiet and alone. She may have signed the papers and paid the first few months’ rent, but this isn’t her home. She can’t imagine how it ever will be.

A knock at the door forces her up from the couch, her socked feet padding over the floors, and she steps back in amazement at Sam outside the door, surrounded by bags and boxes. “What are you doing here?” she asks, and he just grins.

“Thought I’d help christen the new place,” he says. “So I bought dinner, wine, and a variety of snacks. But first we’re going to personalise the place. I went to IKEA for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, watching him just move past her. Unpacking more than just dinner and snacks onto the counter, plastic cartons of fruit and cartons of eggs and bottles of milk and bags of pasta and packages of ready-to-cook vegetables and boxes of tea bags. “Sam?”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Wanda Maximoff,” he says with an enigmatic smile. “Before I got caught up in superhero shenanigans, I wanted to go back to school and become an interior designer. So I went to IKEA, and I used a red theme to pick things out. I tried to stay neutral other than that, so the red pops.”

Somehow, his grin drags her along into helping to make her apartment more of a home. He hangs the grey curtains at her windows, plumps cushions on the couch and her bed, and she almost bursts into tears when he sets a guitar in her living room. “I took the liberty of hunting down a similar one,” he says, and she puts a hand to her mouth to hide her trembling lip. “See. You can make this place a home.”

“But he’s not here,” she says softly. Sadly. And Sam slips an arm around her waist and kisses her temple, squeezing her tightly.

“I know,” he says, and opens the flap of one last box. “I also, ah, took the liberty of hunting down some memories for you. This was the best I could do since the compound was destroyed.”

She does tear up when she pulls out the first frame, the official photograph of the New Avengers team taken in 2015. Natasha’s frozen, touchingly proud face makes the first tear fall, and she ghosts a fingertip gently over Vision’s awkward smile, her chest aching with the need to have his arms around her again. Every frame is perfect, photographs of her with Clint’s children, with Steve and Natasha and Sam, with Vision. The memories of the life she’s left behind. “Thank you,” she breathes through tears, and Sam just smiles.

“You’re always welcome, Maximoff,” he says, and breaks away as she stares into a picture Vision took of the two of them on a beach somewhere in Europe, his hair falling over his sunglasses and freckles breaking out on her cheeks, her lips pressed to his cheek. “I bought mac and cheese. Even remembered to add some spice for you.”

They settle down on the couch with dinner and wine, and she finds herself relaxing into it, just a little. Even if when Sam leaves the shadows creep up again and she can’t sleep for the nightmares and she sits in the bathroom in the middle of the night shaking and crying, when he’s there she can relax. She can know he’ll take care of her.

Somehow, it turns into a weekly ritual. No matter what Sam is doing, what he’s dealing with out in the real world now the mantle of Captain America has passed to him, every Friday night he turns up at her door. Usually with a new knick knack for her apartment in one hand, and dinner in the other. Fairy lights to wrap around the curtain pole in her room, a pasta machine, a new houseplant, a record player including a few of his favourite records from before she was born. He chooses something mindless and uplifting on Netflix, and they sit on the couch and eat quietly.

She makes the mistake of telling him how much she’s struggling to sleep, and he appears at the door with a stack of lavender products, telling her they’re supposed to help her sleep. She confesses that she doesn’t want to go back to dark hair, and he helps her re-dye hers, even cleaning up the murder scene her bathroom becomes under the red dye. He shows her how to make bread, and she pretends not to notice that he never leaves her with any leftover wine for fear that she’ll use it to cope. He gently asks if she thinks she should see a therapist, and she shakes her head and they leave it at that.

Over the months, she thought it would get easier. But it’s been six months, and it never has. She still wakes up every morning in a cold bed, missing Vision, wishing she could just reach for him like she used to be able to. When Sam doesn’t come to see her, she eats leftovers, or nothing. She spends sleepless nights listening to love songs, the words of them eating her up inside, beautiful words she never said to Vision. She wasn’t brave enough.

Tucked into a heavy jumper, reading one of the books that Laura sent her after she cleared out the shelves at the farmhouse, she doesn’t bother to move when the doorbell rings. It’s Friday night, six thirty, and Sam has a key, and she can hear him opening the door, moving around behind her. Then she starts violently when he pulls the book out of her hands and replaces it with a tiny ball of brown fluff that lets out a squeak of a sneeze and blinks blue eyes at her.

“Sam?” she asks, twisting to look at him, hands instinctively cradling the kitten. “Why is there a kitten in my apartment?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Sam says, turning the dial to pre-heat her oven and dusting his hands off to pull a food bowl and a litter tray and a bag of litter and an assortment of toys out of a bag. “I was at the shelter this week, because Barnes is thinking about getting a dog and he’s got it in his head that he wants a rescue and I grew up with dogs so I’ve obviously offered to lend my expertise in helping him choose the right one. And I was chatting to the girl there, being my usual charming self, and she recognised me and said I must know a lot of people in need of some animal companionship. So I said I did, but not all of them have the space for a big running dog like Barnes wants. So she showed me the kittens, and that little guy just caught my eye.”

The kitten presses his paws into Wanda’s chest, leaving pale hairs on the red wool of her sweater, and she cradles him a little closer, feeling his tiny thin body shivering beneath her hands. “What happened to him?” she asks, a rush of protectiveness rising in her at this tiny powerless little thing that needs someone to help.

“His mom got hit by a car,” Sam says. “Tragic accident. And they were a litter of five, and most of them got adopted quickly. He was the runt, and he never pushed to the front and purred. She thinks he needs a special someone to look after him. Someone who’s been hurt too.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” she says, and Sam smiles. And the kitten mews quietly, so high-pitched, kneading his paws into her shoulder, and she looks down into his huge eyes and feels herself melting. “I don’t know the first thing about looking after a cat.”

“Feed him, water him, make sure he’s scratching the post Uncle Sam got him and not the furniture, love him,” Sam says. “I even did some light Googling to check none of your plants are poisonous for cats. They’re not.”

“Sam, I...I can’t accept him,” she says, and the kitten mews when she moves him away from her, paws pulling at the air like he wants to get back to being cradled against her chest.

“I even bought him a collar with a bell on!” Sam says, shaking the length of red to jingle the tiny bell. “See, it’s to match you.” He moves towards her, the hum of the oven filling the silence, and carefully pushes her hands back to her chest, the kitten curling up against her with a contented sigh. “I know you’ve been going through it, Wanda. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You need a companion apart from me. Every witch needs a familiar.”

“Does he have a name?” she asks, and Sam shakes his head. She rubs two fingers carefully over the space between the kitten’s ears, his fur so soft, and asks, “What do you think about Hex?”

“I think that’s an adorable name for a witch’s familiar,” Sam says, and she smiles, suddenly teary-eyed. She moves Hex closer, and he chirps quietly, curling into her. “He’s going to look after you when I’m not here.”

“Sam,” she breathes, overwhelmed and trying not to cry. And Sam leans down to brush a kiss against the top of her head, and she ducks her head to hide the falling tears in Hex’s fur.

They eat dinner on the couch, Hex in her lap and staring at her with huge pleading eyes until she gives him a tiny piece of the salmon Sam made for them. When Sam leaves, taking the bottle of wine they only drank a little of with him, she means to start as she wants to go on, with Hex in a bed in the front room and not on her pillow. But he cries until she relents, and his tiny body curls into her in the bed, warming her the way it used to warm her to sleep plastered against Vision’s back.

When she wakes up in the middle of the night, breath coming in rapid-fire jerks after another nightmare, Hex is there. She cradles him carefully in her hands, and he purrs and butts his head against her face, his chest rising and falling beneath her hand. The motion of it soothing her slowly back to sleep.

#beth writes fic #wanda maximoff fic #idk what to tag this as

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elesianne · 6 years ago

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A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter twenty-two

Chapter summary: After their private celebration is over, it is time to return to the their families. Carnistir carves a promise in metal, and a feast is held in Tirion.

Rating: Teen and up audiences; Chapter length: ~5,900 words

Chapter notes: As I’ve been lamenting here on Tumblr, I tried to rein in my verbose tendencies but failed so there are still two chapters after this very long one. These are the bits that would be cut out of any respectable published romance novel, or summed up in a four-page epilogue, but I like exploring happy endings in more detail. (Not that this is a 'happily ever after' for Caranthir and Tuilë because as we know, Melkor and Fëanor between them will ruin everything eventually, but a... 'happily for a little while', maybe?).

As before, many details of Valinorean betrothals are from Laws and Customs among the Eldar (HoME 10), and some I made up.

(Read on AO3)

Chapter XXII // Love carved into silver

They stay in their own private world of loving words and soft touches and happy plans for the future until the morning. When the light turns golden, they pack the remaining food and the wrinkled blanket into Varnë's saddlebags and say goodbye to the little meadow.

Just before they leave, Tuilindien takes off her circlet and veil. 'The high feast is over', she says. 'And I think I would like to keep the circlet a secret until the betrothal feast. If it is a surprise, it will be even more greatly admired.'

He cannot deny being pleased by this consideration of Tuilindien's. 'Very well, then.' He deposits veil and circlet both carefully inside a saddlebag, and takes an indulgent moment to comb through Tuilindien's long, long curls with the fingers of his free hand, fluffing it where the veil had flattened it, setting it to flow nicely down her back.

It always does, though. It is always beautiful. Carnistir would like nothing better to stay here and run his fingers through it.

He would like that even more than usual. He is feeling a little tense because very soon he and Tuilindien will have to talk with their families about what they got up to while they were gone. He is not certain how they will react to the betrothal. He doesn't even know whether he worries more about his own family or Tuilindien's.

At least he won't have to face it alone. He gathers calm inside himself as they ride up the mountain, Tuilindien warm and relaxed in front of him on the back of Varnë who is eager to run and tries to climb the paths too fast.

Carnistir's worries turn out to have been in vain, for they find their mothers merrily having breakfast together.

Ambarussar are there too, apparently in the process of becoming acquainted with Cirincë with the help of a shared passion for fruit tarts. Lirulinë and her tall, handsome husband lounge nearby, leaning against each other, the very picture of marital happiness.

Carnistir cringes as he remembers once being jealous of Tuilindien dancing with her brother-in-law.

Now he is confused by it all, and Tuilindien appears to be too.

'Lady Nerdanel, mother', she greets their mothers. 'We came looking for both of you but I must admit we did not expect to find both in the same place.'

Their mothers exchange glances and smiles.

'Well, my dears', says Tuilindien's mother who, for all that she is slender and holds flowers in her hair and her toddler in her lap, appears a formidable person to Carnistir. 'When the two of you disappeared from the celebration so promptly after your reunion, Nerdanel sought me out and told me of it.'

'I told her not to expect you back any time soon.' Nerdanel's smile is gentle but her eyes hold a sparkle of amusement. 'We decided to spend the time of the festival getting acquainted, as we anticipated that we would have reason to do so soon anyway.'

Her eyes are fixed on Carnistir's right hand and he realises that he forgot to take off the engagement ring. He isn't supposed to start wearing it until he has given Tuilindien her ring, too, in the official betrothal ceremony where they are to announce their intention to marry to their families.

That announcement seems to have been made already. Their mothers certainly know, as does Lirulinë who is getting up, practically grinning, and oh, now the twins have begun to wonder why everyone is staring at his hand and are coming to investigate.

He does not enjoy the fussing though it is less irritating than he'd thought it would be, and he is certain he is as red as a tomato while their family members congratulate them and exclaim over his ring, and the twins want to tell them how long they were allowed to stay up dancing last night…

But it is not so bad when he has Tuilindien at his side, and they have already thought up answers for their questions.

Yes, the betrothal feast is to be soon, in Tirion, in the palace if grandfather Finwë will host –

'Of course he will', Nerdanel says, 'he will be delighted –'

And they will be betrothed for a year and a half before they marry, with the wedding to be in early spring –

'So that I can build our house to a liveable condition at least, though there will no doubt still be rooms to finish –'

This raises both questions about the house from Tuilindien's mother, and a grateful look from Lirulinë. She is in truth the main reason why Carnistir agreed to a longer engagement. He had wanted only a year, but Tuilindien asked for more.

'Lirulinë is with child', she'd told him. 'It is still early so she hasn't told anyone but family, keeping it a private joy for now. It is her first child. I want to be able to support her during her pregnancy, and to be there to meet her child when they are born. And of course I want her to be recovered from the birth and the baby old enough to travel in a carriage by the time of our wedding. I could not imagine celebrating my marriage without her there, Carnistir.'

What could he do but agree? He could not imagine a betrothal feast without any of his brothers, not even Curufinwë.

Who apparently is 'resting' somewhere, having overindulged himself earlier. Carnistir hopes he will not have to ride home alongside him. Curvo always is at his most grumpily sarcastic when he has drank too much wine.

No one appears to know where Tyelko is. They all agree that he will be found when he wants to be.

As the congratulations and admirations wind down, Carnistir and Tuilindien sit down to eat what has been left untouched by the twins and Cirincë's sticky little fingers. A while later Maitimo and Findekáno wander in and join them after introductions and congratulations.

'You should try to get used to the fussing', Tuilindien whispers to him. 'There will likely be much of it around our engagement and then wedding.'

'I will tolerate it', Carnistir whispers back. Maitimo and Findekáno were very nice, though Carnistir still doesn't understand the reason for and certainly doesn't approve of Findekáno's habit of patting his back repeatedly and so hard it's almost violent every time Carnistir has some good news.

He may not be able to be gracious about it all the time, but Carnistir knows he will be able to cope with the excessive fuss. He has had practice in his grandfather's court, and the stronger than ever connection that he has to Tuilindien and her calmer happiness helps him calm down.

He doesn't even mind that his father is not there. He rarely comes to the mountain where dwell both his father's wife's family and the Vala who made the remarriage possible. By helping Carnistir with the circlet, his crowning courting-gift, Fëanáro had given his implicit blessing to their union, and that is enough.

It is all more than enough for him.

Tuilindien and her mother invite Carnistir and his family to come stay at their house. Nerdanel accepts the invitation for herself and her eldest and youngest sons, expressing her regrets that they can only stay for one night.

So they ride down the mountain together again, though this time both are on their own horses. Fortunately Varnerocco and Mirwannë still get along, and Tuilindien and Carnistir are able to ride closely side by side and talk.

They talk with Makalaurë and Tinweriel, too. They share the journey halfway down the mountain. They are delighted for Carnistir and Tuilindien's betrothal, and promise to write a song for the feast.

As soon as they arrive to the small town around Ingwë's palace that is Tuilindien's home, Carnistir begins carefully taking note of everything he sees: the architecture, the gardens, the statues and other decorations outside the houses.

A small white cat that must be Tuilindien's Snowdrop pads to the door to meet them as soon as they arrive, coming to rub against Tuilindien's leg and wrapping her tail around it. Tuilindien picks her up. The cat tries to rub her face on Tuilindien's, and it makes it a little hard for Tuilindien to introduce her to Carnistir.

'My darling', she says with feigned solemnity, 'this is an important member of my family you haven't met. Meet Snowdrop.'

'She seems very affectionate. She must have missed you.' Carnistir puts his hand out for Snowdrop to sniff. She does, rather desultorily, before returning to rubbing herself on Tuilindien.

'I was gone for a day and a half. Silly little cat.' Tuilindien pets her anyway, looking around. 'I see that my mother is taking good care your family. Will you come look around the house with me? And Snowdrop. She seems to want to be part of whatever we do.'

Carnistir takes her hand and she takes him on a thorough tour of her home and the small private gardens behind it. 'For you want to see it all, don't you? I have noticed you are very curious about my home.'

'For the sake of our house. Like I said, I want to build it so that you feel at home there.'

Tuilindien's lips curving into a smile makes him feel warm as always.

Parting the next day is not easy, but the knowledge of their betrothal feast and thus their reunion being soon makes it easier. It is to be in two weeks' time, and Tuilindien and her family will travel to Tirion a week before for preparations.

The goodbyes are made more difficult by Maitimo standing there grinning at them as he holds the reins of Varnë as well as his own horse.

Carnistir kisses Tuilindien and runs his hand through her hair one more time anyway.

He wants to get to work on his and Tuilindien's rings as soon as he gets home, but of course there are more reunions with family members to be had and congratulations to be endured in Tirion.

Above all, there is his father to tell.

'Would you like me to come with you?' his mother asks when they arrive at his parents' house and are told by the servants that Fëanáro is in his study.

'This is my matter to take care of', Carnistir tells his mother. 'Until the end.'

'You make it sound unnecessarily ominous, dear.' Nerdanel smiles broadly as she pats him on the arm for good luck.

She turns out to be right.

'Did she like the circlet?' his father asks as soon as Carnistir steps into his study.

'She did', Carnistir replies, feeling a little off balance because of this abrupt beginning to their conversation.

'As she should. It is an excellent piece of work, even if you needed my help for the unusually demanding feature you wanted to include.' Fëanáro closes the notebook he'd been writing in and lays down his quill, and looks up at Carnistir.

Carnistir doesn't thank him for the half-compliment. Instead he takes out the ring from his pocket. 'Father, I am here to tell you that during the harvest festival Tuilindien proposed marriage to me and I accepted. She gave me this ring as its mark. We have chosen to have our betrothal feast in two weeks' time. Before we departed from the festival, I asked grandfather to host the feast in the palace and he says that he is happy to do so.'

Fëanáro is quiet for a long moment during which it feels like all of Carnistir's body parts itch in turn.

'You have all the arrangements well in hand, then.' Fëanáro stands up and comes to stand in front of Carnistir. He looks at the ring. 'It is not much, but it is at least in your style.'

Carnistir tries to not let his hand – the right hand with the ring – clench into a fist. 'She knows me well', he says. And then he has to ask, to make sure – 'Father, will you be there for us at our betrothal feast, and will you grant us your blessings when we are wedded a year and half from now?'

'I will', Fëanáro replies. His reply feels remarkably simple and straightforward given everything that he has said before.

His next words feel to Carnistir more in keeping with his character.

'A year and a half?' Fëanáro asks. 'I would not have thought that you'd want an engagement any longer than the year which is traditional. Did your – did Ingolmiel insist?'

Carnistir lists the Sarati signs in his head for a few seconds, just in case. 'I think you can call her Tuilindien now, father, since she is to be family. And she suggested it, because of some… family circumstances of hers, but I think it a good idea as well.'

'Because of the house?' At Carnistir's surprised expression, Fëanáro rolls his eyes. 'Did you really think that I wouldn't find out that you've bought property? Even if you didn't tell anyone in your family about it.'

'I told grandfather.'

'Hmph. In any case, I truly hope that you intend to tear down that dilapidated house that stands there at the moment. If you don't, it was a terrible purchase.'

'It is hardly dilapidated. But I do intend to tear it down. I don't know who built it all those centuries ago, but it is neither practical or beautiful. I have been drawing plans for weeks now for a new house.'

'I hope that you will let me see them before you finalise them. I know that you earned your mastery in that area and are very adept at designing buildings that are, as you like to say, both practical and beautiful, but in all likelihood I will still have some ideas for improvement.'

That is… Carnistir supposes that is the best he can expect from his father. He supposes it is Fëanáro's way of caring to offer to improve Carnistir's plans for his future family home.

'I will show them to you', he promises. He hesitates briefly before asking, 'Do you mind that the feast will be in the palace and not here, hosted by you?'

'Of course not. Canafinwë's was there as well, and it is only right that yours is too. You are a royal prince of the Noldor, Morifinwë, though you don't always act or dress like it.' Fëanáro slings his arm across Carnistir's shoulders. 'Curufinwë is in the workshop. Let us go tell him that you will need to work there too at some point so you can size down that Vanyarin ring of yours. It's half a size too big.'

'I know', Carnistir grumbles, but lets his father lead him out.

The next day Carnistir goes to Makalaurë for advice about the detail he wants to add to the engagement ring he will give to Tuilindien. Though Makalaurë estimated things wrong when he told Carnistir not to take his ring with him when he saw Tuilindien again, he has given him much more good advice than bad.

And the poet-musician of the family seems best suited for this, for Carnistir is wondering about words.

It is close to dinnertime when Carnistir manages to make his way to Makalaurë and Tinweriel's home, but fortunately Makalaurë is at home and at leisure to talk with him.

'I'm waiting for Tinwië to get finished with dressing and then we'll go to the neighbours for dinner. She'll likely take a while yet.' Makalaurë gestures for Carnistir to take a seat. He is perched on a windowsill himself, a habit he had in childhood and never grew out of.

'What brings you here to my humble abode so soon after returning to our home city? You haven't quarrelled with father again already, have you? No, you are not nearly red enough in the face for it.'

There are many things Carnistir could say in reply to that, several of them less than polite. Makalaurë's eyes twinkle in good humour, though, and the happiness and contentment that filled Carnistir when he was with Tuilindien haven't left him yet.

'I told father of the betrothal and it went well', he says. 'Or what passes for 'well' with him regarding Tuilë.'

'I am very happy to hear that.' Makalaurë adjusts the pearl-studded sleeves of his silver coat. 'Why is it that you came to me, then?'

'Tuilindien's ring', Carnistir begins. 'I did not engrave anything inside it originally. I didn't even think of doing so. I made it in more hurry than I should have.'

Makalaurë nods. 'Because you bought that house and have been contracting workers and tradesmen for the demolition and rebuilding.'

Carnistir throws up his hands. 'Does everyone know about that? I only told grandfather! Did he tell you?'

'No, and he never would if you told him in confidence. But people talk in this city, Carnistir, and most of all they speak of us, the royal family.'

Carnistir tugs at his hair, takes a few breaths and lets it go. 'About the ring. I've come to feel that I should engrave some words – some message to Tuilindien – inside it after all. You did that for Tinweriel's rings and she for yours.'

As Carnistir mentions that, he sees Makalaurë unconsciously touch the golden band on his right forefinger. Carnistir wonders what Tinweriel's words are but doesn't ask. He has a feeling that Makalaurë would rather keep them private. He only knows that Makalaurë engraved the rings he made for his bride because Fëanáro made a teaching moment of it for Carnistir, who was beginning his apprenticeship in fine metalwork at the time. With all the songs in my soul, Makalaurë had chiselled inside the silver band, and into the gold, I am yours.

'Tuilindien gave me a ring already, and there is no engraving in it. Do you think I should carve something into hers anyway?' Carnistir frowns, trying to think of words he would want Tuilindien to carry with her always. No mention of song will do for him.

Makalaurë shrugs, affecting nonchalance, but Carnistir thinks that Makalaurë would like his younger brother to follow his example and make it into a tradition.

'If the right words come to you', Makalaurë says.

'How do I know what are the right words?'

'You will know', answers Makalaurë unhelpfully.

'You are so incredibly annoyingly cryptic sometimes.' It isn't the first time Carnistir has said that. 'How does Tinweriel tolerate it?'

'Oh, you know the answer to that now. Why else did your gentle Vanya agree to marry you, a hot-headed Noldo? The inexplicable and immeasurable power of love.' Makalaurë jumps down from the windowsill, quick and graceful as a cat. 'Believe me, Moryo, you will know it if you find the right words.'

He comes to embrace Carnistir. 'Tinweriel and I are very happy for you. You worked hard for your chance at happiness and it paid off. Now if you only have patience with the formalities, they will soon be over and then you get to truly begin your new life with your beloved.'

'Thank you, Cáno', is all Carnistir can say to that.

It takes so long for the right words to come to Carnistir that the betrothal feast is only a few days away. He practises writing the words – both the ones for the engagement ring, and for the golden wedding ring he will make as soon as he has time – on parchment until he is satisfied with how the bold yet flowing tengwar look. He takes the parchment with him to the workshop to try to replicate the script in metal.

He must admit that Makalaurë was once again right. For he knew for certain, as soon as he thought of them, that these are the right words from him to Tuilindien.

With barely steady hands, channelling all his love for her, he engraves into the silver With all the fire in my spirit.

Into the gold, to be worn forever, he will write I give myself to you. Together they form the message he wants Tuilindien to feel against her skin and in her spirit.

Against his better judgement he has allowed the Ambarussar to come in the forge with him like he had come, years ago, with Makalaurë. As he gently sets the finished silver ring on a tall wooden table beside his practice parchment, the twins come to look at his work. They are just tall enough to see the tiny letters on the inside of the silver band.

'We're sure that she will like the writing very much', Pityo solemnly tells his Carnistir after the twins have conferred for a moment in that silent way of theirs.

Telvo frowns as if lost in thought of things mysterious. 'I don't understand it, but it's very beautiful, I think.'

Carnistir ruffles Telvo's hair, and then his twin's, and then he asks them to leave. For once they obey without question. Perhaps they can sense that his heart is full, so full that when they are gone he simply sits and looks at the rings he has made, feeling amidst his fire a song. It is a wild, sweet, rushing tune without words, and it makes him understand all the love songs Makalaurë has sung over the years.

Tuilindien rides to Tirion with very different feelings and expectations than last time, though the cause of the apprehension in her heart is similar: a small doubt that she may not be accepted among the Noldor, and might come to miss her home.

Indis does much to relieve that fear. Tuilindien and her family are invited to stay at the palace as Finwë and Indis' guests until the feast and on their first day in Tirion, the queen invites Tuilindien for a private audience.

There are more Vanyar living there than Tuilindien had known, Indis tells her, and assures her that they are always prepared to make more of their kind feel welcome.

The rest of the week that Tuilindien spends in Tirion before their betrothal feast passes in a blur of preparations as well as meeting scores of new people, for almost everyone in Carnistir's family seems to be intent on her making as many new acquaintances and friends among the Noldor as possible.

Tuilindien is grateful while also feeling a little overwhelmed. When she lays down in her bed at night, the world keeps spinning around her in a swirl of colourful clothes and new voices.

On the morning of the feast her nervousness is eased by the cheerful presence of her sisters. Lirulinë brushes and braids Tuilindien's hair, and Cirincë flits around doing small tasks and filling the room with eager chattering.

Cirincë had been sad when she realised that Tuilindien will be moving away, but fortunately she is the kind of child who is able to decide to make the most of the time that is left. It also helps that she is a little idealist who finds Tuilindien's romance with a Noldorin prince highly romantic.

Now she listens and watches intently as Lirulinë braids Tuilindien's hip-length hair into many braids and makes a crown of them. It is one of Tuilindien's favourite hairstyles. On this special day, Lirulinë makes it much more splendid than usual by carefully placing the glowing circlet of metal flowers among the braids.

'Tuilë!' Cirincë runs to her and apparently cannot help but touch the circlet. Tuilindien is careful to stay still to avoid spoiling Lirulinë's hard work. 'It is even prettier than the other jewellery Carnistir made you. It glows, and it is warm. How does it do that?'

Tuilindien smiles. 'You will have to ask Carnistir, sweetheart.'

In the end the betrothal feast passes in a blur that Tuilindien hopes will be clearer in memory when she dreams of it later. At first she is anxious about all that could go wrong – of Fëanáro's reactions, of Cantiel choosing this day to become a fretful, loud child, of Carnistir's temper being sorely tried by all the socialising and formalities. She even fears that her pink dress and Carnistir's maroon robes will look terrible side by side.

None of that happens. It is clear that Fëanáro is not as happy about Tuilindien and Carnistir's forthcoming union as everyone else but he is courteous enough, if more tight-lipped and less interested in getting to know Tuilindien's family than his wife.

Tuilindien is too happy to care about that very much. Hand in hand with Carnistir, she stands in front of their gathered families in a large, beautiful room in the royal palace of the Noldor.

Carnistir is red-faced but he speaks the announcement of their intention to marry loudly and clearly, and his hands do not tremble when he slides his silver ring to Tuilindien's finger. She can only look at it for a second, just long enough to notice that its surface is covered in tiny engraved flowers and vines, before it is her turn to give Carnistir a ring.

'There is an engraving inside my band too', Carnistir whispers as she places, with much less steady hands, her plain ring on his right index finger. It fits perfectly now.

Tuilindien dearly wants to take off the ring on her finger to inspect it and see what is inside, but they are still in the middle of the betrothal ceremony.

So she squeezes his hand as she raises her eyes to his, gathering courage from the determination, passion and joy she sees there and feels in his spirit.

She turns to their families and formally tells them that they will celebrate their wedding when a year and a half have passed and winter is turning to spring.

She feels her lips curving to a smile as she speaks, and when the necessary words are said, she turns back to her beloved and embraces him.

She raises her head from his shoulder to find that they have become surrounded by family members, most of them beaming, all of them wanting to congratulate them and wish them happiness in their betrothal.

There is an extravagant meal next, all the best that the palace kitchen can provide. Some of the dishes are such works of art that Tuilindien can barely bring herself to eat them.

'That is the purpose they were created for', Carnistir reminds her. 'Make their purpose fulfilled, Tuilë, by enjoying them.'

She does.

After the meal there is musical and lyrical entertainment, directed by Makalaurë and his wife. Besides the two pieces that they perform together beautifully, she on the flute and he on the harp, there is also a song sung by blushing Ambarussar who do not quite succeed at not shuffling their feet awkwardly as they sing.

It is just as moving as Makalaurë and Tinweriel's masterful, romantic performance. Tuilindien applauds them loudly and goes to give them a warm embrace as they return to their seats.

'Thank you for a lovely performance', she tells them. 'Carnistir and I are very glad that you sung for us.'

'We're glad that you are marrying Carnistir', Telvo says, his face taking on a colour that even more closely resembles his flame-red hair.

The formal entertainment is concluded with Lirulinë reading a poem. It is not of her own creation, for as Tuilindien well knows Lirulinë is a terrible poet – but she is excellent at reciting poems, speaking the words clearly and with emotion and with her whole body.

The long poem is one Tuilindien has heard before at betrothal feasts among her own people. It discusses family ties and changes in them, changes that come like the changes of seasons, so that things that grow might grow right; it speaks of the sorrows and joys that joining with another elf to make a new family brings.

It is a Vanyarin poem, and Lirulinë pronounces its words in purest, most conservative Vanyarin. Complex consonant clusters trip off her tongue, Valarin-borrowed words that are more common in Vanyarin are included, some long final vowels that are now foreign to the Noldor echo in the room. Lirulinë smiles at Tuilindien as she speaks their language, eyes sparkling, though there is something a little sad behind the brightness.

Tuilindien is glad that a poem of her people in her language is included in the performances. She tells that to Lirulinë when they speak later when the entertainment is over and the families are mingling freely.

'I am glad that you liked it, sister.' Lirulinë smiles at Tuilindien, then turns to Carnistir who seems determined to stay close to his betrothed. 'How did you find it, brother-to-be?'

Tuilindien senses slight alarm from Carnistir and opens her mouth to help him – though she is not sure how – but Carnistir overcomes his panic quickly.

'I found it long', he replies, tempering that terse reply with, 'And a fitting choice for the occasion, and skilfully recited. I thank you for the performance.'

Lirulinë's eyes twinkle again. 'And Tuilindien told me that you do not know to speak prettily at social functions. I am glad that she appears to have been mistaken.'

Tuilindien cries out her sister's name. 'Lirulinë, please –'

Carnistir interrupts her, speaking to Lirulinë. 'She was not wrong. I am untalented in the niceties of social situations, though I have practised and made some progress in recent years. I would still rather speak directly of things that matter.'

'Very well, I can understand that.' One hand resting on her stomach, Lirulinë smirks as she asks, 'I shall ask you, then, why have you not shown Tuilindien the piece of land where you intend to build your home?'

Tuilindien would like to chastise her sister again, but she can see that Carnistir is match for Lirulinë in this direct discussion. He is not even incensed. She feels from him amusement more than anything else.

'I am bringing Tuilindien there tomorrow', he replies. 'The site has not been in a state fit for visiting. My workers began demolition of the old house there four days ago. By tomorrow the work will be at a phase where it is safe to walk around.'

'I see. Very good.' Lirulinë smiles like a cat who got the cream.

Tuilindien rolls her eyes at her.

Carnistir is true to his word. The next morning they ride to their future home on the southwestern edge of the city.

The white house on the city-facing part of the property is half a ruin, as Carnistir had told her. It is strange and a little painful to see the bones of a house thus on display. She trusts Carnistir, though, in his conviction that the house was unsuitable for them.

She forgets all about it, anyway, as they wander into the orchard behind the house. There are orange and pear trees, peach and plum and a little further on –

'A yavannamírë tree! See, Carnistir.' She runs to the lone yavannamírë, inspects the fruits its old but sturdy branches bear. 'Oh, this fruit seems very good. Please, Carnistir.' She turns to him. 'Please do not have all the fruit trees chopped down.'

He takes the fruit she offers to him as proof, clearly amused. 'I will not if you do not wish me to. I don't intend to be a tyrant with the garden. You have as much say in it as I do.'

She beams at him. 'Let us keep many of the trees, then. I do not need a very strictly landscaped garden. Is that something you have envisioned for here?'

He shrugs. 'I haven't had much time to think of the garden.'

'Because you have been busy designing the new house and planning the demolishing of the old house.' She nods. 'I can make plans for the garden, if you wish, though I have little experience of such work.'

Carnistir offers her his arm and leads her further into the garden. 'Let me show you all of it now, then, so you can make plans.'

'We shall have a fountain', Tuilindien begins her list of hopes. 'But only one. Some gardens have far too many. We shall have one large one, and seating around it. Plenty of flowers, and flowering bushes, but perhaps we will leave all the fruit trees in the more distant half to still have a little orchard… Oh, Carnistir, this is a splendid property.'

She leans her head on his shoulder as they stroll slowly around their future garden. There is a slight crispness to the air that reminds them that summer is over, but they pay no mind to it.

They have a garden to plan and a house too, and a visit by Carnistir to Tuilindien's grandparents' estate in the summer for they do not wish to be apart for their whole betrothal period.

'I will hire someone to supervise the building work while I am gone.' Carnistir frowns. 'I will ask Curufinwë, perhaps, if he doesn't try to argue with my ideas.'

'With your ideas? Or with you?' Tuilindien teases.

'It is sometimes difficult to say which. He has been surprisingly decent recently, as I've told you.' Carnistir grins. 'I think he might be a bit jealous, though.'

Tuilindien raises her brows. 'Of your being engaged to be married? You have told me he has been denigratory of our relationship, and of courting in general. Or do you mean jealous of the house?'

'Both, to a degree, I think. I think he is jealous that I am moving to a new phase in my life. He has always been precocious, ever since he was a child. And he always felt for some reason that he should achieve everything at the same time as I do, if not before, even though he is many years younger than I am.'

'I can see how that must have caused strain in the relationship between you and him at times.'

Carnistir snorts. 'Most of the time, actually. It is easier now that I live elsewhere and we don't spend so much time together. There is less opportunity for comparison.'

'That must be a good thing. Anyway, Curufinwë is still very young. If he marries someone soon, he can still do it somewhat precociously.'

Carnistir snorts again. Apparently it is a reaction that talking of Curufinwë often elicits in him. He replies to her, 'Curvo has declared that he has never met anyone he would care to marry and he has no chance of meeting anyone new because he spends all his time studying or working except when our parents force him to attend some event.'

'You never know.' Tuilindien smiles to herself. 'Neither of us was looking for anyone when we met.'

'That is true.' Carnistir stops and draws her into his arms. 'I am very glad that I happened upon you when I was hiding from social duties at an event my family forced me to attend.'

'Likewise, my darling.' She raises her arms to twine them about his neck – a movement that has become wonderfully familiar – and kisses him, ardently, while images of their future dance behind her eyelids when she closes her eyes to enjoy her other senses.

A/N: In the next chapter, Carnistir and Tuilindien's year and a half of engagement is spent in part together and in part apart.

I'll try to post the next chapter within a week, and the one after that soon as well.

I would love to hear what you thought of this chapter :)

#silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #caranthir #caranthir's wife #tuilindien #your spirit calling out to mine #romance #my fics #elesianne's fics

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silvahscientiah · 6 years ago

Text

In-Progress/ Abandoned/ Finished FFXV Prompts / Stories

These are all mine. If you want to use one, PLEASE ASK FIRST, so that I can know who’s doing what, and CREDIT ME at @silvahscientiah on tumblr or Silverhaunter on AO3. Each UNDERLINED title is a link to a story, abandoned work, or prompt of mine. Each italic long piece is an excerpt.

ALSO PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHICH IS YOUR FAVOURITE IF YOU DO READ THEM SO I CAN MAKE MORE CONTENT LIKE IT

I was dead this morning.

“I was dead this morning.” Noctis says, and Ignis pipes up, “And I blind.”

“And you know, thirty years old!” Prompto gasps, and Gladiolus nods, crossing his arms.

“So, what the hell?” Gladiolus snaps, his temper from his youth returning in full swing.

Niflheim! Ignis:

“There’s a man that’s been running with the Empire, he deals in multiple kinds of magic, we’re not sure what his stance is yet.” Cor says, carefully, and Noctis raises an eyebrow, “He appears unassuming, but he was, according to the few survivors, there when Insomnia fell, fighting alongside the Empire.”

“He appears not to be dangerous. He,” Cor grimaces, like he’s remembering something unpleasant, “Is most certainly one of our biggest threats.

A Stop in Tenebrae.

“I’ve been having visions of the future.” Ignis sighs, “of people dying. Aside from that, I know for a fact there will be ten or more years of darkness before the Chosen returns,” he stays distinctly distant from the matter, “I am not leaving forever. Just for now. I cannot prevent what’s about to happen to Noct, but I can prevent what’s about to happen to” he stops.

Prompto’s brain clicks, “Ravus.”

Ignis nods solemnly, “Ravus.”

“I owe him my life and Noctis’, and I will not just let him die.” Ignis’ eyes close to the darkness, “not like that.”

“I will be getting off the train at Tenebrae.” He says, “It’s been decided.”

Niflheim! Ignis II

The man barely seems to move, but his wrist is at Prompto’s throat, a blade sliding from a hidden gauntlet. The daggers are a distraction, it seems, and his form crackles with electricity, likely how he moved so quickly. The blade ignites with flame, and Prompto squeaks.

“That is quite enough.” The man says, his eyes barely visible behind the dark lense.

“Goodness.” Ardyn’s voice cuts the tension, and Ignis immediately steps away, and waves at Ravus and pushes past him, shoulders brushing, and Ravus sheathes his sword.

The man stands beside Ardyn and removes his visor, unseeing eyes opening just long enough for Noctis to see the silver cloudiness.

He mouths something, and his eyes skitter over to where Noctis is.

‘Walk tall, my friends.’

Him. (Ignoct)

“I- I can’t let this go on any longer, majesty. I apologize.” Ignis gently extracts himself, and moves away, “I’m dead. I know I am dead, I gave my life so that I might save my King and his Oracle. You died, Noctis, on the altar. You and Lunafreya were dead when Ravus and I arrived, she traded her life for yours, and I traded mine for hers. The only way we interact is,” Ignis seems to hesitate, “if I project myself using the ring. The Kings were not pleased with me, Noct,”

UNFINISHED AND ABANDONED: Castlevania FFXV AU (Ignoct)

“I can save your child, but I cannot save you.” Ardyn says to Auela, “Your life for theirs, I can gift them with your humanity, and save them with the curse of vampirism. Your child will be born a dhampir. Half of it your husband, half of it the curse I will gift to you. You will not survive the birthing.”

Auela nods. “Do it.”

Noctis Lucis Caelum is born later that night, and Auela passes on silently, half-son breathing quietly in her arms.

Noctis’ heartbeat is so loud in Ardyn’s ears, and he hates him for it. For the noisy beat of his heart and the fact that he is still alive and Regis is not.

Ardyn raises his scythe, as Noctis turns around, and the blade sinks into his vertebrae. His mouth opens, but no sound leaves him, as he falls onto the castle floor, his blood hot and red and pooling onto the floor a his body shakes with shock, and his heartbeat loud and stunted and his face all too much like Regis’.

Blood sprays across the wall, and a jet of flame burns Ardyn’s hand as Ignis, wild and cat-eyed raises his polearm, he does not speak, but the flame of his dagger sinking into his flesh and ripping open his body is more excruciating than even the pain of seeing Noctis bleed out with wide eyes on the tile floor.

He has never hated anything more than he hates Noctis at that very moment.

“Fine. I’m Prompto Argentum, by the way? You’re Gladilous, Amicitia, right?” “I don’t c- Argentum? Not Leonis?”

“I’m adopted.”

“Of course you are. Not like I’d actually get to save Cor fucking Leonis’ real fucking son.”

“Hey!”

Good and Tasty Vampire Ignoct.

Ardyn Izunia approaches, puts his hand to Noctis’ throat, and Ignis can’t help but eye him wearily. His hands are cold when he pushes Ignis’ aside, almost like-

“You’re a-” Ardyn backhands him, and he’s sent reeling, his head hitting the stone. His vision swims, and he tries to focus on Ardyn’s bored expression as he tries to lift himself to his feet, but a boot lands on his chest. Ravus stands to fight, and is blown back by a blast of dark energy and flame.

Ignis’ vision swims, and like a light bulb going dark, he blacks out.

Mermaid Ignoct

The wheelchair hits his back and his breath leaves his lungs as he collides with the water.

A figure darts out to reach him, and he’s soon deposited on the bank, a young boy, only a little older than him gentle cradling him as his back inches onto the sand. The boy- no, creaute- is making whistling and clicking noises, followed by chortling.

The sound becomes more and more human, and suddenly the boy is crying, “Help! Please, someone, help!” a clicking punctuating his words, “King Regis, please!”

A tail shifts to sit him up, pressed against the creature’s chest, at an angle good for his back. The creature lays him on his back oh so gently and presses their lips together, “Breathe, please, highness.”

Noctis’ lungs filter through the sea water and he coughs while the young siren rubs his back.

Suddenly the boy has legs, and is moving to pick up and carry him. He sways a bit on new legs, and is dressed in a simple suit. “Stay alive, please. Your back has been injured by the wheelchair when it hit.”

The Ring’s Flash

The only warning they receive is the brightest flash of light they’ve ever seen. Ignis pitches the car to the side and slams on the breaks, with a yell of, “Is everyone alright?”

Gladiolus and Prompto both respond with varying shades of cursing, but Noctis does not respond at all, and when Ignis turns around, he is slumped forward, with what looks to be Regis’ sword embedded deeply into his chest.

Prompto screams, and Gladiolus pulls away Noctis’ shirt as quickly as he can to assess if the blade can be pulled free.

Ignis goes still, but not purely because of the blade lodged in his charge’s sternum. Noctis is taller, his legs tucked behind Ignis’ seat, and he’s wearing what looks to be a Royal Raiment. His hair is longer, too, styled differently, if at all, stray locks falling into his face. Beautiful in death, he reminds Ignis of the Kings of olde. He’s got a beard, which is most definitely a change from the clean shaven he’s used to, and the planes of his face are more angular with signs of adulthood. He’s paler, too, if that’s possible. Like he’s stopped going out in sunlight altogether.

Noctis would not cope well with Ignis dying.

Ardyn sits down opposite him on the train, “Should’ve killed the Oracle, I suppose.” He muses, and Noctis just looks out the window.

“Noctis, you’re disappointing me.” he bites his lip, “Stick a knife in me. Do something.”

Noctis whispers, “I just. Don’t feel like it.”

Ardyn bites his tongue and disappears.

What you wanted.

It’s immediately afterwards that Noctis plunges a blade into Regis’ stomach, his eyes glittering fire-orange, irises glassy, he pulls the blade from Regis, and looks at it cautiously. Regis falls to the ground, and presses his wound closed as quickly as possible, with his fingers, sloppy with gore, he’s too shocked to call out, his son had just called upon his armiger, there’s no way it isn’t him.

The worst part, in Regis’ mind, is not that his son just stabbed him, but is that he is now gripping the blade with both hands, and has it pointed directly at his own body, just under his ribs, angled up toward his heart.

Reverse Au? Sort of.

Ardyn sinks his blade into Noctis’ stomach, angling it high up into his ribs, and letting it sit until he violently yanks it free. Noctis lurches with the icy pull of the wound, and claws at Ardyn, pressing his fingers to the knife, gasping, his hands clambering for purchase, trying to seal his skin together. Ardyn yanks the knife from his body, cutting open the sides of Noctis’ hands, and blood gushes from the wound.

“Noct! Get away from him!” Ignis rises to his feet, summoning his daggers from the rings on his middle fingers, calling them to him from where they rest just out of sight.

“Strange world, this.” Ardyn muses, “Oracle turned King, King turned Oracle, Advisor turned messenger. Ifrit was always the most powerful.”

Noctis trembles silently on the wet stone, “Ardyn, you don’t have to keep doing this, if I can just heal you in this world-”

“You can’t.” He hisses,

“We wouldn’t have to keep-!” and Ignis presses his hands to Noctis wound, murming the familiar line of, ‘forgive me’ and calling his magic to him, and burning Noctis’ wound closed as he screams and blacks out.

“Rest now, majesty.” Ignis murmurs, and cradles his head, lying him down.

“Once again, you change his destiny.” Ardyn hums, “Powerful indeed.”

Ignis clasps his hands around Noctis’ and awaken the astrals and kings and queens of Lucis to protect Lunafreya.

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etheralisi · 6 years ago

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Miraculous: welcome to the miraculverse

Thought I might as well cross-post over here too?

AU: Kickstarting this one off with a Jumanji AU. Kinda based of of this post: http://miiiraculous.tumblr.com/post/171394972347/a-jumanji-au-that-sorta-got-away-from-me-in-the

Brief desc: 5 teens. One mysterious video game... Detention has never been quite so weird.

“So… what brings you to detention?”

It had been five minutes since Mr. Damocles had locked the group of teenagers in the school’s basement, explaining before he’d left that he wanted the place to be tidied so it could be refurbished (something about a secret underground base of operation for the owl? Whatever that was) and since they were meant to be in detention, this would be far more productive than to just have them sit around.

The boy with the red cap, Nino if Adrien remembered right, looked up from the dusty shelves he’d been staring at, no doubt lost in mind numbing thought. He was pretty sure he’d seen this guy before (maybe in the cafeteria?) though they had never so much as spoken to one another. Come to think of it, Adrien barely had the chance to speak to anyone who attended the school, Chloe always attached to him at the hip like a limpet, tugging him along with her before he could ever get a word in.

Oh yeah, she was there in detention too, currently sulking in the corner of the room about how ‘unfair it was that she had to do physical education when sweat clearly didn’t look good on her’.

“Hmm? Oh, I was caught listening to music on the headphones. Dude, I was so sure that a supply wouldn’t mind me doing that… but nah,” He sighed, fingers trailing his neckline, “You?”

“Too many school days spent absent,” because his father pulled him out of school way too often, wanting him to model for him all the freakin’ time.

“Oh, I see,” He trailed off, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the pair yet again.

“Err, do you-”

“Ahem!” A loud cough drew the pair’s attention to a girl standing a few feet away from the pair, a feather duster held firmly in her hands. She waved it at them, scowl on her face as she continued, “How about you put that mothers meeting on hold? Me and my friend Marinette can’t just clean this place ourselves, you know?” Her gaze shifted over to the sulking teen in the corner, “Goes to you too, Queen Bee. Or are you too scared that you might get your precious jacket your daddy bought for you dirty?”

Chloe glared in her direction, dusting off the jacket in question, as if daring the dust particles to come any closer to her designer clothes, “You’re just jealous that your taste in fashion isn’t up to par with moi.”

“Pfft, whatever makes you sleep at night, I’d hate to ruin your ever so needed beauty sleep as well-”

“We’ll help!” Adrien spoke up abruptly, hoping to split up the argument before it developed into something more. If they were going to be stuck here with each other for the next few hours (and not to mention the weekend), then he didn’t want to be stuck with two seething girls, casting death glares at one another when they thought no one was looking. Or maybe they wouldn’t even care if others looked on.

“Adrikins?! You’re seriously going to get your hands dirty? Why don’t you leave the work to them? I’m pretty sure they live in this kind of mess anyway.”

The girl ignored Chloe’s outburst, instead handing him a feather duster to match hers, “Well here you go,” She leaned in towards his ear, though she hardly spoke any quieter than before, “No need to let that blonde haired brat tell you what to do.”

The indignant shriek from across the room was duly ignored by the girl, though Adrien found himself wincing, even just a bit.

“I’m Alya Césaire and I'm guessing that you're that model Adrien, right?” Adrien frowned, brain whirring as he tried to place where he’d seen Alya before, though nothing to mind came up. How did she-?

She chuckled, pushing up her glasses as they began to fall down the bridge of her nose, “Quit looking so surprised. You’re a model… and besides my girl here won’t quit chattering on about you,” The smug statement elicited an embarrassed squeak from the girl standing next to her. Adrien turned to the girl, who must’ve been the ‘Marinette’ Alya had spoken of earlier, and his eyes shot up in recognition.

“Hang on… you’re the girl I gave my umbrella to on the first day of school,” Marinette flushed at the recognition, shuffling awkwardly where she stood next to her friend.

“Am I! GAH- I mean, I am... actually! Yes! That’s I,” Her arms flailed about at her wording mistake, and Adrien could barely stifle a grin at her antics. He liked this girl.

“Well it’s really nice to- ACHOO!” His sneeze echoed across the basement, turning all eyes to him with a mixture of emotions ranging from concern to amusement.

“Uh, you okay dude?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He rubbed his nose, now itchy and red from his allergic reaction, “Just forgot I was allergic to feathers,” Adrien suddenly realised, casting a look down at the duster held in his hand.

“Oh! Here!” Marinette rushed towards him, holding out a cleaning cloth, “No feathers!”

He took it graciously, charming grin, his father had taught him to use, stretched out on his face as he mumbled a thank you.

The detention group began the big cleanup, Marinette sweeping, Alya, Nino and Adrien scrubbing the dirt off of items that had been stacked in crates to be sent off to other rooms, and Chloe making a half assed attempt at bossing them around whenever she looked up from her phone. It proved impossible to get her to help, and they only stopped asking for (read: demanding) her assistance when they realised she’d face the consequences when Mr. Damocles came back to check upon them (that’s if her ‘daddy’ didn’t pay him to keep his mouth shut and lay off the consequences.)

By the half hour mark, they were already quite tired and sore from bending their backs over constantly, so Nino suggested a break.

“Come on, just for a little while!” He wheeled over a television set, hooked up to a fairly outdated games console.

“You seriously expect me to play on that old thing? With you lot, no less?” Chloe scoffed flicking her hand in a flippant manner as she got back to texting (“I thought our phones were confiscated?”)

Nino groaned, “No one said you had to. But is anyone else in?”

Alya shrugged her shoulders, “Sure why not. I’d love to have a go at,” She glanced at the game inserted, frowning as she glanced at the title, “... Miraculous? I’ve never heard of that one before. Marinette, you play games. Know it?”

“No, I don’t think so. And I’m really not that big on games, I mostly play Ultimate Mecha Strike,” She picked up a controller from the stack and plugged it in along with the other three, “That’s not to say I won’t play, though.”

The loading screen started up, displaying a single logo in the middle of an otherwise dark screen. It disappeared within seconds, replacing itself with a twirling symbol that was almost hypnotic if stared at for too long. All four of them waited in silence for it to change, each a little curious as to what the game ‘Miraculous’ entailed.

At long last, a title screen showed up, displaying the word ‘Miraculous’ in a bold but curvy font, red with a few black spots dotted here and there just like the those of a ladybird. In the back, it showed a steadily moving pixelated Parisian cityscape, the Eiffel tower being the main feature.

Then it switched to a character selection page, the generic caption ‘select your hero’ atop the screen. True to its words, there were multiple heroes to choose from, differing from some kind of girl in polka-dot spandex to a woman in a very flowy feather dress.

‘Mayura’ as she was called, was for some reason darker than the others, and when Alya tried to select the hero as an option, nothing seemed to happen. She sighed, resulting instead to choosing one called ‘Rena Rouge’, a girl clad in a fox themed suit.

Nino chose Carapace (“Duuude! I’m basically a Ninja Turtle!”), Marinette opted for the polka-dot one, who was apparently called ‘Ladybug’, whilst Adrien settled on a cat themed ‘Chat Noir’.

Alya snickered as she came across one called ‘Queen Bee’, “Hey Chloe, shame you’re not playing. This superhero would be perfect for you.”

The blonde looked up from where she was frustratingly tapping her thumbs against her phone screen, apparently perking up at the word ‘superheroes’. She bit her lip, before stashing her phone into her jacket pocket and headed over to where they all sat.

She glanced at the shocked stares the group gave her and rolled her eyes, grabbing the last controller from the pile, “Eh, It’s not like I have anything better to do. The signal down here was terrible. It’s impossible to get anything sent through.”

Adrien cast her a knowing smile at her as she selected her character, understanding all too well what he real motives were, but opted to remain silent. When she caught him staring, he averted his gaze, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

The screen faded back to an empty black, a loading icon once again swirling in the middle.

“Urgh, that’s the thing about these old games,” Alya huffed, crossing her arms in agitation, “They take forever to load. I can’t-”

BA-DUM!

The hanging lights began to swing, barely noticeable to first, but then gained more momentum, swinging so violently that there was a chance that they could fall any second. Tables shook, and the television rolled back on its trolley, clashing into the wall behind it with an almighty thud. The group all got to their feet, dropping their controllers with shock as they stared at what appeared to be the effects of an earthquake in motion. Crates filled with dusty clutter slid across the floorboards with a groan as if they were not in a basement and had instead stepped foot on the lower deck of a ship.

BA-DUM!

If he hadn’t been fearing for his life so much, Adrien would have winced at the mess this freak of nature was causing, did the world not realise how much work they had put into tidying up?

BA-DUMB! BA-DUM!

“Anyone else hear that?!” Someone shrieked over the din, though Adrien couldn’t tell who, only just managing to catch the words that were almost lost to the world.

BA-DUMB! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!

It was then that Adrien realised that that sound hadn’t been the drumming of his own rapidly beating heart, rather, it was in the space around them, drawing out the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping.

BA-DUMB! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!

It was if the earth itself had gained a pulse, thunderous, and carrying that musty earthy feel that tugged at something deep within his soul. This sound held centuries of fiery anger and had poured fear into the hearts of many, many before them.

And just like that, it was over.

But the silence was deafening to his ears. Worse than a scream, just like-

Just like the way Chloe had just started to do at the sight of her hand. Or, well, lack of it. Particles drifted from it, sand blown by some unfelt wind that drew it towards…

The console?

The group stared, stricken at the sight of the girl who, while most would openly admit as not that nice of a person, definitely didn’t deserve such a horrific fate as this. Chloe… she was Adrien’s friend, and staring at her as she dissolved into a nothingness made him feel completely numb.

...Maybe that's because it was happening to him too. Fear swelled in his eyes as he stared, slack jawed as his hands began to disintegrate and drift off into a fine dust, just like what had happened to Chloe.

No no no no no! Nonononononononono-

But it was too late.

The game was already in motion.

AN: *Slams down the door*

Hey? I'm back again?

And I’m here to torture these characters with a Jumanji AU (welcome to the jungle), the scene where everyone gets thanosed because apparently that part in heroes day with Chat was not enough for my evil heart.

Might do another chapter on this? But I don't know. Gotta leave room for the others.

Also feel free to leave suggestions? I might choose one or two of them from time to time.

#miraculous #au #My fic #Bread fic

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seasonofthegeek · 7 years ago

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Ninette Week, Day 5: Zoo

Days 1, 2, 3, 4, 5:

“There’s a Spring Fling event at the zoo this weekend. Wanna check it out?” Marinette leaned back against Nino’s chest as she scrolled through the local news app.

“It would be nice to do something outside now that it’s starting to warm up a little. I wasn’t sure winter here would ever end.” Nino wrapped the ends of her hair around his finger and curled it up until he ran out of hair and released it all only to start again.

“I know,” she sighed contentedly and let her head fall back, lightly knocking his chin and feeling him kiss the top of her head. It had been two months since the night in the field, since their decision to let go of the past, and these casual yet intimate touches were what they allowed themselves. They still hadn’t labeled it officially, content in simply being able to take close comfort in each other.

“Your hair has gotten so much longer,” Nino commented, tugging on it playfully.

Marinette laughed and reached up and behind her to pull on the soft curls covering Nino’s head. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’m thinking about cutting it.”

“Really? I love the curls.”

Nino flushed and pulled her hand away from his hair, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist before releasing it. “Then maybe I can keep them a little longer. How do you feel about earrings?”

Marinette turned in his arms, expression flat. “What?”

“Oh, shit,” he winced, wide eyes going to her scarred earlobes. “Sorry, that was a dumb way to say it. I meant for me, uh, like up here.” He pinched the top of his ear.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Actually, I think that would look kinda sexy.”

Nino felt his face heat. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He licked his lips as his gaze fell to hers. They’d kissed exactly once and Marinette spent an hour afterwards crying so Nino hadn’t had the guts to try again. She didn’t seem to mind the small kisses on her head and hands and cheeks so Nino tried to keep himself content with being allowed those but sometimes…

Marinette blinked, eyes a little too wide, and pulled back, making a show of standing and stretching. “I’m supposed to do dinner with Katie tonight so I should go get ready.”

“Oh, right, I remember you saying that.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I might work on some tracks I’ve been fiddling with. Maybe I’ll order in a pizza or something.”

“That sounds like a nice night.” Marinette shifted her weight. “Um, I’m just going to…” She leaned down and quickly pressed her lips to his, popping back up so fast that she lost her balance and stumbled backwards. “Okay, bye!” she yelled shrilly, hurrying to her bedroom and slamming the door.

Nino touched his mouth, feeling a stupid grin spread across his lips. “Bye.” ______________________________

“They have red pandas! I love red pandas!” Marinette pulled Nino through the crowd to get to the exhibit. She went up on the tips of her toes to see over the line already in front of the habitat and squeezed his hand. “They’re so cute, oh my goodness.”

He grinned. “Want me to put you up on my shoulders, shorty?”

“I will stomp on your foot,” she warned.

Nino laughed and stood behind her as they patiently waited for the people in front of them to move along. “Do you want to loop back to the concession stand after this? I could use something to drink.”

“Sure,” she nodded. “I’m kinda bummed about giraffes not existing here anyway. I used to love seeing the giraffes at the zoo back home.”

“This place can be so weird.”

“I know.”

An opening appeared and Marinette hurried into it, tugging Nino along so that he was flush against her back. He wrapped his arms around her middle, letting his clasped hands hang in front of them as he rested his chin on her head. “Are these red pandas cute enough for you?”

“They’re even cuter than I hoped,” she smiled, covering his hands with hers. “We should get one and take it home with us.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“Come on, steal me a red panda,” she teased.

“Stealing is bad,” a little voice condoned.

The couple looked down to see a young girl staring up at them.

Marinette put on an apologetic expression. “You’re right. I’m very sorry,” she said, trying not to smile. The little girl nodded solemnly and then returned her attention to the exhibit. Marinette grinned up at Nino and nodded her head towards the next exhibit.

“It won’t be a red panda, but we could actually adopt a pet if you want,” Nino offered as they made their way to the snack bar. “The animal shelter is close to the studio. I might have peeked in once or twice on a lunch break.”

“I’ve never had a pet before, well, unless Tikki counted.”

“We could get a dog or a cat.”

Marinette frowned. “Maybe not a cat.”

“Right, probably not a cat,” Nino amended with a small wince. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be. It’s just that Adrien always talked about us getting a cat when we…” She trailed off and they continued in silence for a little while. “Maybe we could get a turtle.”

Nino laughed, feeling relief wash through him. “I could deal with a turtle. I used to have an aquarium that Wayzz could hang out in when we were home. He tried to act all above it when I first bought it but within a week, he was swimming around and hanging out on the rock. I even got him this little plastic mermaid that sat at the bottom so he would have a girlfriend.”

“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Marinette nodded and took in a deep breath, pushing on. “Did he and Trixx get along?”

Nino met her eyes in acknowledgment. “For the most part. Trixx got a little too excited for him sometimes but he learned how to relax every once in the while.”

“Tikki and Plagg were always going at each other but then I would find them all curled up together and sleeping. It was cute.”

“I have a theory,” Nino began, “that I’ll tell you as soon as we get something to eat.”

“Tease,” Marinette huffed good-naturedly.

They each ordered something from the cashier and waited by the small window for their food as families moved around the zoo.

“Okay,” Nino said as he set his plastic koala cup on the picnic table. “So I think our Miraculous and kwamis are still back home.”

“I’m guessing you have a reason.”

He nodded. “They couldn’t come over because kwamis don’t exist here.”

Marinette pondered that for a moment. “I did look up any signs of heroes but only found vigilante types. No one with actual powers.”

“Right. Maybe that’s why they were so violently ripped away when we got pulled through.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Maybe the same thing would’ve happened if someone tried to bring over a giraffe or strawberries or—“

“Rubbing alcohol.”

Nino blinked. “Really?”

Marinette shrugged. “I looked for it at the drugstore for a craft project and they didn’t carry it. The guy kept trying to point me to the wine aisle.”

“This place doesn’t make any sense.”

“There are some perks though. I’m kinda obsessed with their take on milk chocolate.”

“I’m still having trouble with the gray milk thing.”

“It tastes the same,” Marinette grinned.

“I’m aware of that but still.”

“Dork.”

“It makes sense though, doesn’t it, my theory?”

Marinette nodded. “I like it. I’m sure the others are taking care of them.”

“And they’re taking care of the others,” Nino added.

“Yeah.”

Nino took a long pull from the green bendy straw. “So you kissed me the other day,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Marinette choked on the chip she was chewing and grabbed for her lion cup. Nino watched her scramble, trying not to smile. “Rude,” she gasped.

“I only wanted to say I liked it,” he smiled, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks as he moved his nachos around.

“It was so awkward,” Marinette groaned.

“Yeah, it definitely was.”

“Nino!”

He grinned. “You almost face planted right there in the living room. It was like we were in high school again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it because it won’t ever happen again now.”

“Aww, don’t be like that.”

Marinette lifted her chin. “Nope.”

Nino stood and leaned across the picnic table so he could put his face close to hers. “Never?” he asked, voice low.

She swallowed hard, eyes darting to the side. “People are watching.”

Without dropping his smile, he settled back into place. “Okay.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just try to be sexy at the zoo and we’re going to sit here and finish our nachos.”

“You thought it was sexy, huh?”

“I should definitely break up with you,” she shot back and then snapped her mouth shut.

“Now who’s being sexy?”

Marinette blushed and ducked her head. “Stop it,” she giggled. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Nino reached across the table and covered her hand with his and they finished their nachos in a pleased silence. ______________________________

Marinette knocked lightly on Nino’s bedroom doorframe. “Can I sleep in here?”

“I told you that you never have to ask,” he smiled, shifting to the side so she could crawl into the bed with him as she had most nights over the past month.

She curled up and snuggled into his side as he leaned against the headboard with his laptop in his lap, soft music flowing from the speakers. “I was actually asking…” She rolled her lip under her teeth. “Can I sleep in here every night?” She looked up at him. “You can say no, obviously, but—“

“Yes.”

Marinette tried to hold back a beaming smile. “Because you’re my boyfriend and I like…what’s that look for?”

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before,” he grinned. “It’s making me feel very happy.”

“I’m glad. You make me really happy.” She kissed the side of his chest and then pressed her cheek against it. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

“That’s not something you need to thank me for.” Nino slid his arm around her. “You’re worth the wait.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

#ninette week #Not Only You #ninette #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain-cheng #oops I drabbled again

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garden-of-succulents · 7 years ago

Text

Kent Parson and the Comeback Kid - 3

After a week of Kent Parson breaking everybody's hearts I was like I AM GONNA WRITE SOMETHING FLUFFY FOR HIM IF IT KILLS ME. And tonight I wrote 6k in four hours? Which is an amazing omen for the new year, may it prove so in the future?

So this is a new chapter of Kent Parson and the Comeback Kid. It's 2021. Kent's finally gotten Andy from Leave Your Lovers Like Campsites to settle down and have a kid and marry him. They've got an open relationship and he's got boyfriends who don't appear in this fic so far; she's dating Maida Hombrebueno. Andy, who was an elite hockey player in her youth, was out of the sport for many years and just got rediscovered as a talent. She's 32 and just qualified for the US National Women's Team for the first time. Also, it's Round 3 of the Stanley Cup playoffs, and the Aces are up in the series 3-2.

(There's one little sour moment where Andy's dad is mentioned, and general BS of the media being gross, but nothing like the last part. And for people who're wondering: Katie is Kent's sister.)

At the airport, Nick jumped down and ran for her as soon as he got a clear eyeline. He almost got taken out by a luggage cart before getting within ten feet of her, and Andy sent thanks with her eye contact as the man stopped and let Nick blithely swerve around him.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he exclaimed, as she scooped him up. "What did you bring me?"

Andy laughed and rocked him back and forth, pressing her cheek to his hair. "Hey kiddo," she said, heart thudding. "I am so happy to see you. I brought you... a giant kiss. You gonna let me give you a big kiss hello?"

He did, pressing his hand over his cheek afterwards to hold it there. "I'm in pull-ups," he informed her glumly as she walked across the Arrivals area with him on her hip.

"Yeah? You peed yourself a little? Happens to the best of us, buddy," she said, tightening the arm around Nick so she could lift her other one and reel in her girlfriend.

A few years back, Andy ended her twentieth hockey season in a rec league in Minneapolis and hung up her ice skates in frustration. Half her team were skating for their first season ever, and were carried along by the half who'd been playing since they were little girls. They made great drinking buddies, but she hadn't been going anywhere as an athlete, and felt a little burned out by having to coach in her rec time over and above her day job coaching teenagers at a hockey academy.

Roller derby gave her a lot of the same things as hockey. It was fast and fun and violent, and played by women who made her laugh so hard she snorted beer out of her nose. But the player base had a deeply different ethos, embracing the weird and wonderful instead of hockey's straighter laces. When Maida Hombrebueno joined the Sin City Derby Girls, it was the first time she'd willingly participated in a team sport since the age of ten, and Andy might never have met her without it.

Maida spent her summers touring music festivals and New Age gatherings with her boyfriend Luis, a Santeria-practicing guitar player. When she wasn't rehabilitating injured wild raptors, Maida's own interests ran to composing slam poetry in indigenous Mexican languages and occult divination.

She was like water in the desert.

Once Andy got over her sense of disorientation with Maida, the feeling of being so far from any familiar cultural referents she didn't know where she was, she found herself at home. Maida was the teammate she trusted to have her back, the witch who poured blessings on her son's head. As a lover, she was like a stray cat who just walked into Andy's house one day and treated her bed like home, filling up her house with warmth and wisdom. When she left, it was on her own time and for her own reasons, but also the certainty that she'd be back. Maida was the only person Andy would trust to take her two-year-old son to the airport and let him wander freely, risking life and limb in the face of baggage carts and many other unknown horrors. Maida treated Nick with a calm, hands-off attentiveness, knew where he was every second, and could--unlike his grandmother--call him back at any minute.

Maida squeezed her in a hug, and Andy breathed in the jasmine perfume behind Maida's ears, pressing her face into Maida's hair for a minute before letting go.

"Congratulations," Maida said, and twined her fingers with Andy's as they began walking out to the parking lot.

We'll just do the long-distance thing, she'd said even before Andy left for the selection camp. No drama, no questions. Unless you don't want to. But you do what you need.

"Thanks." Andy squeezed her hand. "You coming to the game tonight?"

"Oh, no," Maida said. "You guys have fun. I'll go home when you guys head out."

Andy shook her head, smiling. Kent's friendship with Maida went back almost as many years as he'd known Andy, when he'd started exploring Paganism, and had been lovers with Maida and Luis for years; when he drove out of Las Vegas to their trailer in the desert, it was to escape hockey, to escape being Kent Parson, to escape even the memory of the pressures laid on him in the city. So even after all these years, they never went to Kent's games. Maida might acknowledge that Andy played hockey, but politely treated Kent's hockey career like a hobby that paled in comparison to everything else about him. She'd rather talk to him about music, xeriscaping, statistics, about the progress of Nick's potty-training, than let discussion of hockey pass her lips in his presence. "Series is 3-2 us," she said, just to fill Maida in. "Either they win conference finals and advance to the Cup final tonight, or it goes to another game."

"Karen's been trying to pack when she thinks Kent won't see," Maida said with dry humour. Kent and Andy were hockey-player superstitious, made uncomfortable by words or actions that implied their teams would win; Maida was idiosyncratically superstitious, more likely to believe fate was affected by the phase of the moon and the rains last winter than human actions; Karen didn't think she was superstitious at all, and liked to be well-prepared ahead of time. Karen therefore struggled to reconcile her son's habits and her household management, especially during Playoffs. In her opinion, a week's warning was hardly enough for her to prepare to take Nick to New England so they could be there at the game if Kent won, and the shuttling back and forth between home games and away was a demonic plan specifically designed to torment her. Over the past week Maida had probably been surreptitiously keeping friction between mother and son from erupting, when she wasn't tending to her birds.

"Grandma's gonna be so happy when Playoffs are over," Andy chirped to Nick, who had his arms around her neck and his head against his shoulder. To Maida she asked, "Where's Kent napping?"

"Swoops's," Maida answered. She reached over and rubbed Nick's back as they got to the car. "Though this one's not going to be too loud, I think. He was up at six this morning. Be nice if he could--" she mouthed the word nap-- "this afternoon."

"Mmm," Andy agreed, depositing Nick in his carseat. He clung to her, his eyelids drooping. She was already calculating the probability that he'd fall asleep in the car and stay asleep while she carried him inside.

The odds weren't great, but a girl could hope. It made sense that Kent Parson's son would be a stubborn little motherfucker, though.

"Kent wants to see you before puck drop," Karen said, as Nick dragged Andy by the hand. His eyes had snapped open just as Andy laid him down on his bed, damnit.

"I know," Andy said, as she retreated down the hall. "He texted me." And then she waved as Nick pulled her into the playroom.

She had to admit, privately, that she didn't always understand her son. His noises didn't always resolve into words in her ears, and she frequently relied on Kent and Karen for translation. She didn't understand why he wanted to do something with a train and a Barbie and a spaceship, and just patiently held the spaceship aloft for him until he took it out of her hands and set it to rest on a toy car. She never knew what his scribbles or Play-doh blobs were supposed to represent, and found herself falling back on phrases like, "That's a lot of blue!"

And yet, when she sat back on her heels and Maida brought her a cup of tea and a kiss goodbye, she said, "I've decided? I think I actually am a better parent than my parents were."

"Yeah," Maida said, and squeezed her shoulder. "Karen wanted me to remind you that you've only got two hours before the team goes in for strategy."

"Yeah, I know. I'll get dressed soon." Andy squeezed Maida's hand, and kissed it. "Drive safe."

Kent and Andy had an entire closet for jerseys. It was sentimental and a bit ridiculous, but there it was. Some jerseys got special treatment; his first Olympic jersey, framed with team picture and silver medal, hung in his den. One of her NCAA jerseys, and the award plaque she won that season, had the same treatment in her work office. But after a while there got to be so many--and not all fit for public display, like the All-Star jersey from a few years back with bloodstains on one side and a little penis drawn on the other in Sharpie. This was where her new Team USA jersey went when she pulled it out of its plastic wrapping, buried her nose in the fabric, and then slipped it onto a hanger.

Her chin trembled a little when she indulged in a whim and pulled out one of Kent's IIHF Worlds jerseys. It wasn't the same--different year, old logo, different neck decoration. But both jerseys were the same colour. Same team. PARSON, across one back. SCARLATTI, across the other.

She put them back in the closet and sighed wistfully. There used to be a time when she'd just throw one of them on over a pair of jeans and sit down in the stands with a hot dog and a beer. It was comfortable and familiar. She still did it for a lot of games and tournaments, but not NHL games, especially not Aces games, anymore. Instead she put her curling iron on to heat and stepped into the shower.

Kent didn't care what she wore. Or, that was, when his opinion was a deciding factor he preferred her in a jersey as God intended her. But he was a player, not a fat woman being spectated as a spectator. His fashion choices during a game didn't get dissected the way hers did. When she wore a jersey, his Twitter mentions didn't fill up with messages about her looking ugly and slovenly the way hers did. He didn't have bosses in the Aces Foundation making nervous comments about "professional attire" and "media image" the way she did. So when he was around he didn't comment on it, just helped her pull her Spanx on and zipped up her dresses.

Almost over, she consoled herself, blending her makeup.

Even the lower passages and back hallways of the arena sparked with life. This was an important game, and Las Vegas knew it. Andy waved to familiar faces--parking lot attendants, security guards, janitors in her husband's jersey. As she came down the tunnel the boom of the music playing hit her before the scrape of skates and smack of sticks did.

Jorge, the towel boy, nodded to her as she came down to the players' box, but the coaches and trainer there--Harry, Mel, and Luc--were too busy watching the ice with eagle eyes and conferring over their notes. The box was otherwise empty as the team warmed up. Andy went to lean on the boards and look out.

Swoops was still wearing fairy wings pinned to the back of his jersey, the way he had at warmups for the last three games. It was a bet Andy didn't fully understand. Dmytro was lying on his back and cycling his legs through the air, pretending that his jersey totally accidentally fell back and exposed his abs. Gordie's glove hand was still moving a little slowly when he windmilled, and therefore unsurprisingly, the backup kid they'd called up last night was nervously stretching on an empty patch of ice.

Kent was--

Kent skated away from a consultation with a rookie, snatched a puck, handled it over to the lineup to shoot on Gordie. Kent kept drawing her eye, and not just because he was hers. Kent was--

His jersey was missing the Nevada patch on the shoulder, the extra stripe of white at the bottom. Its sleeves were straight, not shaped the way they'd been for the last three years. The sides didn't have the subtly greyer panel the Aces were wearing this season. It looked retro, and it hung on him a little looser than normal, and there were what looked like scuff marks all over it, and--

SCARLATTI, it said. 14

Kent sank the puck over Gordie's glove, shook his head sympathetically, looked over to the callup kid, who looked like he was about to puke. Kent was on his way over to him when he noticed Andy.

Almost a decade ago she'd slept with him for the two weeks between conference finals and Cup final, slept with him a few times after, and then kissed him goodbye and moved back to Minnesota for four years. As a parting gift, he'd asked the team shop to custom make a jersey with her name and habitual number, to remember her year with the Aces by. A lot of the guys had signed it for her.

He'd felt self-conscious about giving her his own number and didn't want him wearing anybody else's, he'd said. But she'd always hugged a secret little hope to her chest when she wore it: that he put her own number on it because he took her a little seriously as a hockey player.

"You stole my jersey," she said through tears when he skated up.

He just grinned and wrapped her up in a hug over the boards, murmuring thanks when Jorge took the stick out of his hand. She hugged him back and gripped big handfuls of the fabric.

"I am so proud of you," he said. "You're gonna get everything you need to play. We're gonna figure it out."

"I'm wearing mascara, you asshole," she sobbed. He let her go so she could turn away and grab one of the bench tissues and turn back to him while she was crying. "I did actually know that."

"You... did?" the man wearing her jersey asked.

"I know, right?" she asked, blowing her nose. "On the plane back I just thought... you didn't actually say, but I just thought. If I made the team, and you were like, no, we can't make it work, your career is more important, after you told me to go? I'd be so fucking angry with you. You'd be an asshole." She sniffed mightily and swabbed at her face. She'd been smart; she'd used waterproof mascara, though she hadn't remembered it at first. "So it turns out I actually have, like. Expectations? And I..." she started crying again. "I actually believed you were gonna believe in me and support me? Even before you said so?"

"Babe," he said, and gathered her in again reverently. She leaned against his chest, holding tissues to her face, even when she felt him slide back on his skates and have to re-set his feet. She thought about the fact that their entire exchange had just been videotaped and clips of it had probably already been broadcast, but wasn't too troubled. Kent was shielding her; her face was safely hidden in his shoulder, and the jersey he'd chosen to warm up in told the story itself. Maybe he'd anticipated that. The media were going to want visuals to go with the story, and there had already been stories about the surprise addition to the roster before she boarded the plane back to Las Vegas. He'd already known they'd have to present an image as a team.

They just moved to the side for the first guy who came skating back to the bench, so he could step around Kent, but when it became clear this was a general exodus Andy sighed and straightened up and Kent let her go.

"I love you," he said.

She set her hands on his chest, gripping her jersey, and thumped him a little. "You make me proud tonight. Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, touched her chin, and she let him go.

Andy blotted her eyes with a paper towel soaked in cold water, and then when she got up to the family box she looked for Valentyna. It was a lively box tonight--all the wives, most of the girlfriends, the callup goalie kid's parents, various friends and hangers-on. Nick and Karen weren't there yet, but Oksana and a couple other kids had pulled out the big Rubbermaid bin of Duplo from behind the bar and started playing with it already.

It took one look--it looked like Valentyna had been waiting for her--before Dmytro's wife was pulling out her glass makeup case and coming up to one of the tables in the back of the box. She adjusted the overhead light to shine on Andy's face, frowning at its inadequacies as Andy meekly sat on one of the tall stools.

"You TV interview?" Valentyna asked, snapping open her case. Before her marriage she'd been a model in Kiev, and worked as a makeup artist when she couldn't get modelling gigs. (Somehow, Ukraine had hundreds of women more beautiful than Valentyna Mykhailuk) She was normally shy around the other Aces wives, partly because of the language barrier, but their children were friends only six months apart, and watching Andy struggle with makeup alone had pushed her past her limits. Before the big games, Andy had to pass Valentyna's inspection before being allowed out to the front of the box.

"No," Andy said, squirming a little. "And no big eyeliner wings, Valentyna."

"Accentuates face," Valentyna said. "National team! Patriotic hero! Ought to interview you."

"My face," Andy said. "My eyeliner." And then, as Valentyna loaded up a brush: "Thank you."

"Will miss you," Valentyna said matter-of-factly, and then had to pause to let Andy wipe away tears again.

She got one interview that night, as it turned out, as well as going down into the stands because a group of girls had hastily written on the back of their posterboard sign, ANDY SCARLATTI COME SIGN MY JERSEY. They played on a U18 team together in Ontario, and got playoff tickets as part of what they described as "the most amazing vacation ever." Then she hustled back up to the press box.

Sam Park was the veteran holding down the Las Vegas Star's sports reporting, which meant he bounced from NHL and WNBA games and the local Little League games and initiation hockey tournaments Andy's office either organized, oversaw, or sponsored. They'd last texted two weeks ago when she'd given him the name of a good local flooring contractor for his house, and tonight he sent, Willing to come down to the press box and talk as a member of Team USA?

An interview with an old friend like Sam was a good starting place. He liked wordy character pieces more than brief sports reporting, so he listened with interest as she threw a new light on their acquaintance--how she worked with the Aces in 2010 because she'd always known she'd have to get a paid job after her college sports career, and left in 2011 in part because of the lack of local women's hockey; the growth of professional leagues for women, and differences between men and women's hockey. How her office at the Aces foundation being literally a hundred feet from the team's practice ice meant she could go out and skate at lunchtime if she wanted, and how those hours and her time playing keep-away with Kent before the teams she coached showed up were often more player development than other women just as skilled as her could afford.

She kept quiet about her speculation about next season, though Kent had already spoken about it. In an attempt to distract the press during the first intermission from the emotional crisis their new goalie was having in the dressing room, Kent had stepped out for a brief media scrum. When asked how Andy's selection to Team USA would affect his plans for next season, he'd shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back

"We haven't settled on any details, but, y'know, I wanna support my wife," he said. "I've had ten years of support to be the best player I can be, best coaching, best training, on the best team in the best league. So I think, y'know what, fair's fair." Then, having done his best to ensure rumours of his retirement would bump clips of the kid having a panic attack on the bench from the reporting, he'd smiled and slipped back into the dressing room.

Sam was softballing her, probably planning a series of articles if the story generated much interest. He wanted to know about her family, her friends, her new teammates.

"Have you seen this?" he asked, offering her his phone.

Lansing Cougars @mi_girlshockey · 2h So proud of my daughter #AndreaScarlatti for being selected to #USNWT #TeamUSA!

For a minute she smiled, under the assumption that someone running a girls' hockey account in Michigan had hyperbolically claimed her as their daughter. Then she read the sidebar with the account information. The realization that it was the team her dad was coaching now--that it meant "daughter" literally--wiped the smile from her face.

She wanted to snatch the phone up in a typing grip and fire back a response. Fuck you, she wanted to say. You don't get to claim any part in this. I did this despite you. This was exactly the kind of bullshit that made her block her father on Twitter every time she figured out what his new handle was.

Instead she let the impulse pass through her, and when she could, she consciously relaxed her grip on the phone. She put effort into breathing normally, sitting back in her chair, offering the phone back to him. "No comment," she said casually.

How like him, he thought, to name an account after the girls he's coaching and use it as his own personal mouthpiece.

Sam's eyebrows flicked up. "No comment?" he asked. "That's... not like you."

She made sure to take a full breath and double-check her response. What did she want to say? This was Sam, right; Sam who was writing a book about the Aces, Sam who hadn't written a word about Vladimir's breakdown despite witnessing some of it himself. Then she smiled, a little strained. "When I'm ready to talk about that? You're one of the people I'll talk to. But right now I think it's wise to leave him out of the story."

Sam looked a little concerned, like he was going to ask her if she was really okay, but Andy was saved by the airhorn. The game was back on.

When the game was over Andy kissed and hugged her son goodbye, and headed downstairs. Nick was under Valentyna's watchful eye, and would be going home with her, Oksana, and Dmytro tonight. Western Conference Finals, win or lose, were Kent and Andy's date night by very ancient compact. The other guys would tease Dmytro about not wanting to go out and party, but the same way they teased Kent: good-naturedly, and without a real intent to make him change his mind. Andy was grateful to the Mykhailuks and said so. Karen split off in the hallway to party with another group of middle-aged "wine grandmas".

When Kent met her in the hallway to the parking lot, his suit was rumpled and slightly damp with champagne spray. He grinned sheepishly and laced their hands together.

"Good game," she said, kissed his cheek and looked up. "Oh, hey Gordie, good effort. Tough luck. Rest that shoulder, hey?"

"Thanks, Ands," Gordie said, dredging up the ghost of a smile, and shouldered past them. Dmytro came out, his phone in his hand.

Then Valentyna came down one of the staircases with the kids and Nick caught sight of Kent and shrieked, "Daddy!"

"Oh, dear," Andy sighed under her breath, as Kent crouched down to receive Nick in a running hug.

"Daddy won!" Nick said, hugging him. "Good game, Daddy!"

"Yeah," Kent said. "Thank you! You gonna go home with Oksana and have a sleepover?"

"No," Nick said.

"Yeah," Kent encouraged. "You're gonna go home with Valentyna and sleep over at our place, and see me and Mommy next morning."

"Don't wanna," Nick said, and then something low and incomprehensible that Kent listened to with a furrowed brow. He scowled when Kent said something softly back, and then balled up one fist and hit his father's shoulder with it.

"Hey, hey, hey," Kent said. "Hands aren't for hitting. Gentle hands."

"Daddy mean," Nick said accusingly. He stopped to consider his actions, weighing righteous fury against fear of consequences, and hit Kent again with his face screwed up for tears.

This is my fault, Andy thought suddenly. I've been away for a week. He's upset because I've never been gone that long. That's why he's wearing pull-ups. He hasn't tried to pull a stunt like this for months. It's because of me.

Kent sighed, hitching Nick up into a surer grasp, and turned to the side to let a few other players by. He took a minute to rub Nick's back and close his eyes. "I love you, little man," he said, and then, muttered to himself under his breath: "I cannot take away your pain. I can only sit with you and teach you how to feel it." When he opened his eyes again it was to meet Andy's eyes with a wry expression. He jerked his head to Valentyna, and they started walking to the parking lot together.

"I don't know what books they have at Oksana's house," Kent said as they walked. "I wonder what you're gonna read together. You've got Goodnight Moon and I Am Not a Chair with you, you could read those. But you might read one of Oksana's books."

"No," Nick whined, but his strength was fading. He was collapsing into Kent, tiredness replacing anger.

"Which one would you rather read?" Kent kept going with that gentle voice. "Goodnight Moon or I Am Not a Chair?"

"...Chair," Nick conceded, as Kent pulled open the back door to Valentyna's sedan. Nick's car seat was already in it so Kent settled him in, while Oksana climbed into hers on her own. "An' also Goodnight Moon."

"Yeah, you want both books?" Kent looked over to Valentyna as she buckled Oksana in. "Do you think you can read two?"

"I think so," she said, and leaned forward as Kent drew back. "We gonna read two books?"

"Yeah," Nick said softly. "I love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, little man. Night, Oksana."

Andy stood back, watching with a sense of wonder as Kent closed the car door. He came back to join her with a crooked smile, and they started walking to their car in the other direction as Dmytro started his sedan. They glanced back to watch it reverse out, then drive away.

"I thought we were seriously done for," Andy said, taking Kent's hand. "How did you do that?"

"I mighta let him come back with us, to be honest," he said. "Even though we've got stuff to talk about. He missed you. Coulda put him to bed first. But then he hit me, and we talked last week about how hitting never gets him what he wants." He slipped into the passenger seat of the car, and resumed once he and Andy had their seatbelts on. "I think as soon as he hit me, he knew it was over. I was gonna have to make a stand. So then he gave in pretty fast."

Andy sighed. "I feel so bad. He was probably more upset because I was away."

Kent rolled his head against his headrest to look over at her. "Babe? Welcome to how I feel all the time."

Their drive home was quiet, nerves on her part and pleasant weariness on his. Because they were old, they changed out of their nice clothes as soon as they got in the door and changed into pyjamas. Kent fed the animals and poured a drink out onto his altar to the gods of luck, then stretched out his legs on the couch so Kit Purrson could have the seat she was actively agitating for. Andy brought him a cold pack for his knee first, and then the homemade pizza the oven had been programmed to have ready for them when they got home, and finally two glasses of rosé. She'd sat down when he said, "I wanna see your jersey," and then she had to get up again.

"Sorry," he said when she came back, taking her hand and kissing it. She let him, and then handed the jersey over and picked up her wine.

"Shit," he said after a minute. He was tracing the number on the sleeve.

"They, uh," she said nervously, twisting her wedding ring. "It got us to list three jersey numbers by preference, and then they got assigned based on seniority. And there's a lot of competition for the lower numbers, and Bri's played under number fourteen forever, so I..."

"Dude." Kent looked up at her, eyes shining, hands still gripping the 90. "You're wearing my number. It's not even your birth year."

"Fair's fair," she finally got out past her tongue.

Then she had to lean forward so he could kiss her, and they both cried a little bit, and then it seemed like they were really talking about how to do this.

"I'm afraid," she said. "I'm afraid like, you'll organize some big trade to another team, and we'll change our whole lives, and move everyone, and then I'll get cut from the team in October." She made a little cutting gesture with her hands. "Whoops! I thought I had a career, but I don't."

"It'd still be worth it," he said. "Even just having that chance."

Andy reached back and wrapped her hands around the nape of her neck. "It would be so fucking embarrassing. It's not us, it's the fucking commentators. They're just..." She rubbed her face. "I don't want to do something we're gonna regret, or that you're gonna resent me for, in case it doesn't work out."

"Okay," he said, like that was easy. "What are our options?"

"I mean like, technically..." she laughed nervously, picking up a pizza crust. "I still have one year of NCAA eligibility, I think? But I mean, that's not..."

"Yeah, no," he agreed, stroking his cat.

"If it were an Olympic year..." she paused. "Well I mean, I wouldn't get on in an Olympic year, because it's just that much more intense. But then the players take the whole season to build together. Whereas now there's a training camp, and then everybody's off to their regular team until the 4 Nations Cup. So unless I wanna stick around here and keep training with you... The N, the C-dub, the Russians, or China. I mean, I could play in Minnesota, but..."

"Everything we're hearing from Patty says their league might not last the year," Kent agreed. "And you might not wanna be around for the implosion."

"Yeah," she agreed. "As nice as it would be to be home. So. Realistically? Um. Because, all of the NWHL teams have expressed interest in me. But then it's like, the two body problem. Boston can't afford you. The Sabres aren't a good team right now. Connecticut doesn't have a team at all so then you're commuting, or I am. And you..." she trailed off when he lifted a hand, asking to jump in.

"I want to retire," Kent said.

She blinked at him, and then reassembled her face into something empathetic and supportive and ate her pizza crust. He smiled and poked her knee with his toes, because he liked to make fun of her Listening Face.

"I might as well admit it," he said. "I did this season out of spite. When I came back after my paternity year, people were just... so shitty. Everything they said or did was like, 'Oh, losing his edge.' By the end of the year I was so pissed I just... didn't want to prove them right with that shitty season. So I came back." His face twisted. "And now Nick has nightmares where I'm dead."

"Honey," Andy said. "He hasn't had those for..."

"Okay, but he did," Kent said. "And I'm just... wondering how many more seasons I might've put him through if I hadn't got that far. But now I'm here, and it's..."

Andy reached out and squeezed his foot while he searched for words, and then topped up his wineglass.

"There's this art studio in Rochester," Kent said. "It's in the building where Katie works. It's like, a family creative space. Child-led play. You take your kid in and there's all these art materials around, and the person teaches you how to make like, a popsicle stick picture or fingerpaints or whatever. But the point isn't the art, it's like... teaching your child to explore. How to let them be creative while you're there supporting them but not smothering or anything. She sends me snapchats about it. I wanna go there."

Andy started on her second crust, puzzled but willing to hear him out.

"I just hate how like... all of my time with him is chopped up and scheduled and he's always tired and we can never just be together. After the summers it's almost worse because then he's used to me being around and he's like, 'Where did Daddy go?' What I want is the time to just wake up and decide we're gonna fingerpaint today, and he never has to worry about when I'm gonna leave."

"You wanna be a stay-at-home dad again," Andy said slowly.

Kent paused to think about that, and then looked at her again with something almost fervent. "There's been so many times since he was born that I've been on the ice and asked myself, 'What the hell am I doing here? I've got important things I need to do!' It's like... being around Nick feels important in a way hockey hasn't in years. Even when he's just sleeping. Something changes about him every day, and I love being able to catch it. It kills me every time Mom has to send me a video of something he learned to do without me."

"Shit," Andy said. "I thought you were doing okay."

Kent shrugged, a little helplessly. "I think I repressed a lot. But also like, he's just gotten so interesting now. He's inventing stuff and coming up with ideas, and more and more I'm like, I don't wanna miss this. I wanna be there for this. I wanna get to know him." He picked at his nails and looked up at her. "I spent all these years wishing I had people who loved me, who took care of me, who needed me. And now I've finally got you and under all the competition there's a little bit of me that's like, fuck, why can't I rest on my laurels? Why do I have to get another season out like I'm wringing out a dishrag?" He rolled his head back and sighed. "I am so fucking glad we won tonight, because that might be the only way I'm brave enough to say this."

Andy wasn't good at accepting the fact that Kent loved her. It was like she was coated with an impermeable resin, and that love only seeped in when it cracked and flaked with age. But she didn't think it was just that difficulty that left her feeling that Kent's love for Nick was so much deeper than his love for her.

She wasn't jealous. It wasn't a competition. In some ways it felt like how the world ought to be. It was just a kind of realization: If Kent and I divorced, he'd hurt a lot, but then he'd live again. If he lost Nick, he'd never recover. The immensity of that secondhand love was so deep that it threatened to overwhelm her, and she was kind of humbled just to witness it.

It's gotta be good, some part of her thought. It overcame his pride and his workaholism.

"So," she said, voice rusty. "Rochester. How far is that from Buffalo?"

#kent parson #andy scarlatti #maida and luis #kent parson and the comeback kid #stuff i wrote

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