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kingandfireheart · 4 years ago

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Lucien Vanserra Sass Appreciation Post

For more serious Lucien content see my other posts:

What the fuck is happening in the Autumn Court series Part 1 (Eris) and Part 2 (Lady of the Autumn Court)

What stories are left: Lucien

When Lucien introduces himself:

"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."

When Lucien is intrigued by Feyre:

"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."

When Lucien wants to know if Feyre thinks he's hot:

"Thank you for the meal," I said. It was all I could think of. "Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat. I braced my hands on my chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep." "It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at." At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it. "You're High Fae," I said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all-or dining with me." Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already. Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"-he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-"surely we're not so miserable to look at."

When Feyre leaves their first dinner together:

He gave a distant nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human I was. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile. Enough. I got to my feet and backed toward the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf, sparing my life or no. They said nothing when I slipped out the door. A moment later, Lucien's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.

When Lucien notices Feyre checking him out:

Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. "Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"

When Lucien is a sarcastic motherfucker:

“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucien’s sword. Lucien smirked. “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings–”

When Lucien describes Amaratha perfectly:

"What happened to the magic to make it act that way?" Lucien let out a harsh laugh. "Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell," he said, then glanced around and swore. "I shouldn't have said that. If word got back to her-"

When they run into the Boggee:

"I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look." Lucien rolled his shoulders. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.

When he gives Feyre a title:

"Are you a warrior, though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that? Lucien huffed a laugh. "Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons." He patted the hilt of his sword. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

When Lucien just needs someone to spar with:

“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?" "Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back. Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that. But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.

When Lucien and Feyre spend quality time together:

Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras's old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn't seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow. An arrow. I never fired a single one during those three days we rode along the border. That very morning I'd spied a red doe in a glen and aimed out of instinct, my arrow poised to fly right into her eye as Lucien sneered that she was not a faerie, at least. But I'd stared at her-fat and healthy and content-and then slackened the bow, replaced the arrow in my quiver, and let the doe wander on.

When Lucien diagnoses Faerie problems perfectly:

A brush of ice slithered across my nape. "He would be that brutal?" Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. "You don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed. We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else."

When Lucien is told to Back Off, so he exacts his revenge:

Lucien's russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn't meet it. The face of Tamlin's emissary-more court-trained and calculating than I'd seen him yet. "I'm unavailable today," he said. He jerked his chin to Tamlin. "He'll go with you." Tamlin shot his friend a look of disdain that he took few pains to hide. His usual baldric was armed with more knives than I'd seen before, and their ornate metal handles glinted as he turned to me, his shoulders tight. "Whenever you want to go, just say so." The claws of his free hand slipped back under his skin. No. I almost said it aloud as I turned pleading eyes to Lucien. Lucien merely patted my shoulder as he passed by. "Perhaps tomorrow, human."

When Lucien hides:

"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border-official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."

When Lucien and Feyre become friends after he tells her how to trap a Suriel:

Another riddle-and another bit of information. I said, "It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, I possess superior abilities to keep my mouth shut." He snorted as I took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from my room. "I think I'm starting to like you-for a murdering human."

When Lucien is day drinking and living his best life:

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?" "Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?" That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats." Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh. "I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre." I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat. "I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said. A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”

When Lucien is incredibly casual for a guy going to an orgy:

What?”

Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”

“But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans.

“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.

When Lucien is the mom friend:

"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?" "Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck. "What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded. I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it." Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.

When Lucien loves drama:

"Accountable?" I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. "You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!" Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright. "While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room," Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair. I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. "Faerie pig!" I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left.

When Lucien bolts:

“I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.

Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

When Feyre goes to a party:

"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. "She looks positively Fae." ...

I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. "I'm surprised I'm even allowed to participate tonight." "Unfortunately for you and your neck," Lucien countered, "tonight's just a party." "Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?" Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. "He's right,"....

"So there's singing and dancing and excessive drinking," Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. "And dallying," he added with a wicked grin.

When Lucien plays a prank:

"I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself," I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I'd had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick-enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool...."

When Feyre gets drunk of Faerie Wine:

“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”

“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.

“Human fool,” he hissed.

But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.

“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.

"Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”

When Lucien is hungover and third-wheeling:

Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.” I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous. “You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.” He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him. “Nothing,” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath. “Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said.”

When Lucien drops one of the best lines in the book:

"I see," I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. "You've been noticeably absent again." He used the dagger to clean his nails. "I've been busy. So have you, I take it." "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"

When Lucien doesn't know what is coming in the future:

Downstairs, Lucien snorted at the sight of me. "Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm." "I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you," I said. Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. "I thought you were smarter than this."

When Lucien admires Feyre's attitude:

“Don’t you understand what Rhys is?” “I do!” I barked, then sighed. “I do,” I repeated, and glared at the eye in my palm. “It’s done with. So you needn’t hold to whatever oath you swore to Tamlin to protect me—or feel like you owe me anything for saving you from Amarantha. I would have done it just to wipe the smirk off your brothers’ faces.” Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”

When Lucien is a fashionista:

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

When game recognize game

“Cursebreaker,” some murmured. “Blessed,” others whispered.

I made a show of looking surprised—surprised and yet accepting of the Cauldron’s choice. Tamlin’s face was taut with shock, the Hybern royals’ nothing short of baffled.

But I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.

Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.

Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

When Lucien is scared of Amren:

“I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—”

“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

“We don’t—we don’t enforce protocol and rank here.”

“Obviously. Rhys lives in a town house, by the Cauldron.” He waved an arm to encompass the city.

When Lucien is a little murderous:

“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”

Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”

When Lucien volunteers to go on a quest:

“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—”

“I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.”

My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”

A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.

When Lucien makes a friend

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”

“You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.”

#lucien vanserra #sass appreciation #this is 90% acotar #I didn't include ACOFAS or ACOSF because his sass is not as strong #other than calling Rhys and Feyre assholes #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

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strawberryspence · 3 years ago

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when death knocks on your door

Angst/Fluff [18+] | Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Reader

Summary: Some trauma tears people apart, while some brings people together. SSA Doctor Spencer Reid and SSA Doctor Y/N Y/L/N is brought together by the death of SSA Emily Prentiss.

Word Count: 3,13k

Warnings: based on the Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss character arc so some spoilers for s6-s7. talks about death (a lot of it), mention of drug use, allusions to depression, attempted suicide (nothing graphic), mention of cancer & car crash, a few curse words, description of smut, its very vague (one part only), mentions of therapy, HAPPY ENDING (i am not a monster)

Writer's Note: Hello! A bit of a heavier topic on today's fic! I picked apart the whole Emily arc and this is written basically in the reader's perspective. I love writing angst but I can never end it with sad endings. So I hope you enjoy this, I am very proud of how it turned out! 💛

GIF is made by yours truly. Its surprisingly hard to find "purple shirt + sweater vest spencer reid" gifs.

Death.

Death comes in different shapes and forms.

For Spencer, he has seen it up close with Haley and Hotch, but never with someone in his family or close group of friends. He sees death in the form of abandonment, in ways when people leave him and a part of him goes with them.

For you, you were familiar with death. Death looms over you. You’re father dying when you were younger and then you’re mother in your teens.

Death comes when your father was killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver. It was fast, in a blink, death sweeps him and takes him. All her father’s life and dreams gone in a second, with a crash.

Death comes when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer, the fucking bitch, takes her time. It was slow, like it was enjoying the pain. It takes and it takes till its taken everything and the last thing it has taken is your mother.

And death comes when it takes Emily Prentiss. This was your best friend, partner in crime and roommate. Her death wasn’t fast, it wasn’t slow, its painstakingly in the middle while you try to get her blood off your hands while sobbing in the SUV as Derek drives way past the legal speed to get to the hospital.

In her death, you find yourself being swallowed by something that you were not. Something bigger, something you can’t describe. The team sees this weeks after she has been buried. You were the same person, and you were a different person, all at once.

One night, when death was about to knock on your door as you hold a knife to your wrist, ready to meet Death, ready to tell him off, it is then when chance knocks on your apartment door.

Spencer is at your door, a sobbing mess with three bottles of dilaudid clenched in his hands. He stumbles in your new apartment avoiding the piles of boxes unopened. You just moved, not being able to sleep in the apartment you and Emily shared.

“I am sorry. I-I am sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know where to go. JJ was... busy and I am so close... so close.” Your heart softens at how desperate he looks, Spencer doesn’t know how strong he is to you, being able to ask for help when you were just about to end it all.

You take the bottles from him, setting it on the counter as you guide him to your couch. He clings to you as you both sit on the couch, crying and sobbing.

“Death is among us. Avoiding him is what makes us stronger." You whisper to him and he cries harder.

Something is so bitterly comforting when someone shares the same pain you are suffering. It hurts, but in a funny way, it hurts less when some shares it with you.

So you cling to Spencer as he does to you and you let it all go. You cry as much as he does as he holds you and as you hold him.

You both wake up the next day, with a full 8 hours of sleep, something you both have not had in weeks.

“Thank you.” Spencer whispers and you smile, stroking his hair, “Thank you.” You say it back at him.

You were sure that Emily is laughing at her grave. I had to die for you to finally make a move on your crush. You shake her voice off your head. Now is not the time for silly crushes.

It becomes a routine, finding comfort and safety in each others presence, Spencer almost lives in your apartment. His toothbrush sits on the cup besides yours in the bathroom counter, his clothes takes up half of your closet, his books scattered on the shelfs and his cups on the kitchen counter.

You tell yourself its platonic. Spencer tells himself its platonic. The team doesn’t say anything, only thankful that you were reverting back to your old self and Spencer is getting better.

You want more. It was hard to admit to yourself. But you wanted more with Spencer. Your little crush now growing into something bigger than yourself. You wanted futures full of him and what you have right now is not right. Shared trauma is not love.

Three months into the set up of him basically living in your apartment, you suggest therapy for both of you. You are a Doctor of Psychology and you know the percussions of what you’re doing.

Spencer is shocked but he understands. This was your territory, Spencer knows that this was the right thing to do so he agrees. You lay out all the options to Spencer, all the therapy and how both of you should change your routines more often.

It works. He stops sleeping on your bed every night (he still comes tho, just on the harder nights where he needs to hold you to remind himself that death has yet to take you).

You have breakfast together every morning, using it to comfort each other rather than sleeping together every night. It works.

The therapy helps you both as you both move on from Emily’s death. That is until seven months later.

Declan was missing. You’ve let the Emily case go but Derek has not, you know this and you let him. Every time you want to do something to help Derek catch Doyle, your doctorate that hangs above your couch stares back at you, like it was taunting you. You studied this, moving on was the better choice and you know it. No amount of killing Doyle would bring back Emily, no amount of it would make you feel better.

That is until Hotch gathers the team on the conference room.

“Everybody have a seat.” Hotch instructs. You all look at each other. Spencer looks at you as if asking if you knew what’s up but you only shake your head.

“Why?” Morgan asks, looking around.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her—“

“What?” You squeak out. Hotch holds his hands up, asking you to hear him out first.

“She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

Spencer can see how your face pales. He reaches for your hand under the table and gives it a tight squeeze. You return the squeeze, finding comfort in his touch.

“She’s alive?” Penelope asks, tears now forming in her eyes.

“But... we buried her.” Spencer says, like its a fact. Like its the solid truth. Your hand clamps down harder on his.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone had any issues, they should be directed to me.” Hotch says and all you can do is look at him, not able to believe anything he is saying.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Derek’s loud voice now looming over the room.

“Oh my god.” Penelope squeaks making the whole room turn around. You turn around and you see Emily walking to the room. Your hold unto Spencer tightens, as if checking if he is real, you want any sign that this is not a dream, that this is real.

“I am so sorry. I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to...” Emily explains.

Death comes and it takes, and it takes, and it takes but never has Death give someone back to you.

Emily was standing in front of you. The woman whose blood stained your hands for days, the woman you buried, the woman who’s grave you cried on for god knows how long that Derek had to physically carry you away from her grave and here she was breathing and hugging the team.

She comes in front of you and you still haven’t let go of Spencer’s hand.

“Y/N?” She says, it comes as a whisper. A whisper, coming from the ghost that has been haunting you for months. She opens her arms for a hug and you let go of Spencer to hug her.

She was real, she was solid and she’s hugging you back. So why, in the mountain of emotions you are feeling, why is happiness in the bottom of the pit? Why is anger the one screaming in your heart?

You pull away, and she hugs Spencer but as soon as she lets go, Spencer captures your hands again. Emily sees this and smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

“There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan.” The team continued to discuss Declan and Spencer holds unto your hand like its his life line. You only break apart when the team has to work again.

He gives you one look as he separates away from you, “I got you.” He says, kissing your temple before leaving to go to the interrogation room.

That was enough to calm you down.

The team gets Declan back safely and after all the trials, you finally had a moment to breathe.

“Hey, you doing good?” Spencer asks. You nod. He looks good, he looks like home in a purple shirt and sweater vest.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks you. You want to shout but you’re my home! You nod and he takes your scarf from your desk and wraps it around you.

“Let’s go?” You smile at him as he wraps it around you. It felt so domestic, so familiar.

You walk together to the elevator, leaving the BAU and all the piles of emotions that you’ve been through this past few days. As you both stand in the silver tin box, you see your reflection with him standing beside you, his arm around your waist and your head on his shoulder.

You wanted to scream how much you love him. But the voice in your head screams back, he doesn’t love you! It’s shared trauma! You shake your head and Spencer sees this.

“You okay? How are you feeling?” You smile up at him, as he looks at you with all the worries that a person can hold for another one.

“Yes, I am good, Spence. How about you?” He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I am good. I just need time to process some of the things that has happened.”

Spencer drives you both home. Spencer doesn’t take the word hate lightly but Spencer hates driving. He still drives tho, for you. Holding your hand while he drives with the other, while you were staring out of the window, just watching the places blur by.

Death waits on your door and when the right time comes, it will knock. When it does, you can’t turn it away or send it away. When it knocks, it sweeps you off your feet, leaving no time for goodbyes or regrets. Ironically, Spencer walks you to your door, opening it for you and even taking your scarf off for you.

Your heart almost grows twice its size and you can feel yourself bursting in its seams. You find yourself closing the door, as if trying to block Death away from him. He smiles at you and something bursts inside of you.

“I love you, Spence.”

He drops your keys on the bowl on your hallway and he smiles, teasingly. “I love you, too, Dr. Y/L/N.” You smile but you shake your head.

“No Spence, I love you. With my whole heart... I mean, of what’s left of it. W-we need to stop, if this is only a shared trauma for you. I can’t be that... because... I love you and I want futures with you. Any kind of it, as long as you are there, every morning with a cup of hot coffee for me. If that’s not possible, we need to stop. Because my heart...” You hold unto the edge of the table for strength.

“My heart... is not strong enough to lose you and love you at the same time.” Spencer stares at you, confused with a certain spark in his eyes.

“W-why are you saying this now?”

“Because death is at everyone’s door. Emily is lucky. But what if it takes me tonight, or tomorrow? I don’t want to die without telling you that I love you.” You say, bracing yourself for the impact of the rejection.

Spencer walks to you, holding your waist to steady you.

“I love you, more than anything in this world. I have love you even before Emily died. This isn’t shared trauma, it’s been love way before that. If it's anything, it made my love for you grow deeper. You... helped me heal. You pushed me to go to therapy. You made me stronger, Y/N.” Spencer holds your face and brings you into his arms and you clung unto him as he hugs you.

“I love you... I love you so much.” You whisper to him and he hugs you as close as humanly possible.

Spencer lets go of you but cups your face to lift it closer to his face. Spencer kisses you like it was the last time you can ever kiss him. It felt like a fever dream you once had. The fire of the kiss fills in the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely healing it all at once.

Life, the direct opposite of death, has always been hard to describe. Death was easy to describe for you but Life? it was a struggle. But with Spencer kissing you, as he holds your hand and your face, so tenderly like you were going to break, you finally realize what life is supposed to be. It felt good being alive, it felt good to be breathing.

You and Spencer sleep together for the first time that night. It is in one word, unbelievable. It was as if the universe has planned it all along to teach you what it felt to be alive, as he pushes himself inside you, whispering nothing but sweet praises and promises of futures together in your ear. You wake up, hours after making love, tangled with him and the bed sheets, with you in his arms.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, brushing through his hair as he sighs to your touch, snuggling more to the crook of your neck.

The morning comes in a breathe. Easy and fast. You wake up earlier than Spencer, untangling yourself from him to make him his daily morning coffee.

A knock comes and it almost makes you drop his mug. Looking up at the clock, it was only 7 in the morning. The thought disappears as another knock comes. You open the door and today life offers you Emily Prentiss.

“Hey, good morning.” She says with a smile, you give it back, still not used to seeing her, alive.

“Hey.” You smile looking at her as you let her enter.

“Pen said you had my boxes.” She looks around on the apartment. “Its not here. Its on the garage downstairs. Do you want it right now?” She nods. “Oh. Uhm, the team actually helped me move it there, its a little heavy...”

“Okay... I’ll get the team to help me later.” You nod but don’t say anything and the silence is so loud, it’s deafening.

“Can we talk?” Emily asks, in a gentle voice. Almost like she’s talking to a toddler. You shake your head. “We can, but not today... I need to process some things first and I need help with it. We can talk this weekend, after my therapy.”

“Therapy?” She repeats. You nod. “Therapy.” She bites down her lips, you know Emily enough to know that she feels bad about it.

“I know it’s not your fault, Em. I understand, but I just... need time. I... buried you. I cried on your grave and for months, I had to accept the fact that you were... dead.” Emily nods, opens her arms for a hug and you gladly accept it.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need. You are my bestfriend and I love you.” You nod and hug her tightly, reminding yourself that she was alive, and that was what’s important.

The hug was cut short when Spencer comes out of your bedroom half naked.

“Spencer?!” Emily almost screams as she pulls away from the hug.

“O-oh... I-I didn’t know you were here...” He says as he slowly backs up the door and picks up a shirt to wear.

“When did this happened!?” Emily is definitely losing her mind now.

“Uh... Last night?” You said, not exactly sure as to when it started. Emily’s mouth drops in surprise and Spencer can only smile at her offering her a cup. “Coffee?” Spencer says with a smile and a shrug that makes both you and Emily laugh.

Emily doesn’t stay long after that, opting to leave the two of you to spend some time together. Spencer and you end up in the couch, huddled together in a huge blanket you both knitted together with cups of coffee in hands.

“So... Are you officially moving in with me?” Spencer looks down at you. The steam of the coffee colouring your cheeks a bright pink colour.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, smiling at you. Spencer loves you, in ways he didn’t know he possibly can and he’d give you anything you want. You could ask for the stars and Spencer would build a rocket just to get a few to give to you (even if he knows it was impossible because, well, stars are made of gas.)

“I want you everywhere. You... are my home.” You say softly, as your hands caress his cheeks.

“Then, I am moving here, love.” He says as he kisses your forehead and you lean unto him as you wrap the blanket tighter around each other.

“I love you.” He says as you lay your head on his chest and he brings you closer to him. You smile and whisper it back. “I love you more.”

Most people say that time heals pain. It, truthfully, does not. Love does, love in the corniest way possible, mends your soul in ways that are not physically possible.

When Death knocks on your door it will be in different shapes and forms, but so will love and for you, love came in the shape and form of Spencer Reid.

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

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What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 4

Word Count: 4,277

POV: Reader

Warning: Language, Smut, NSFW, Pregnancy stuff

Notes: Well here’s part 4. When last we saw these two, our reader told Jacob she was pregnant. Now they have some decisions to make. Let’s see what happens. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

Jacob finally ended up carrying you to bed, after the game. He hated that it might possibly wake you, but didn't think that sleeping on the couch would be good for you or the baby. He wanted you to get as much rest as possible while showing you that moving here and letting him help you was really the best option for all three of you. Thankfully, you were still in a sleep fog as he lifted you off the sofa, really only conscious enough to wrap your arms around his neck.

The earthy scent of sandalwood and something else filled your nostrils. Something that you knew, subconsciously, was only Jacob. As he carried you up the stairs, this feeling of serenity and tranquility took over you. The past few days you had felt like you were stranded on a deserted island with no one to help and nowhere to go. Now, being here with Jacob, you just felt cared for, and dare you say it, loved. That last part you didn't want to think about, there were too many emotions as it was. Just because Jacob was feeling responsible for the baby, didn't mean that he loved you. The whole idea was ridiculous. You barely knew one another. A small part of you said that that didn't mean that love wasn't off the table, but you squashed that thought down, as Jacob laid you on the mattress.

You blinked rapidly, clearing the haze that had crept over you in sleep, to see Jacob staring down at you. The look in his eyes was undeniable. That feeling was something you recognized and felt yourself. Lust. You remembered that look as you saw it several times in Vegas, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't have that same feeling yourself. You'd had it since the moment the plane landed in LA and every time after that when you spoke to him on the phone. Now, it burned low, all the way down in your core, as you felt yourself yearning for him once again.

Jacob's eyes were glued on you, watching as you cleared the sleep from your eyes. Since the moment he'd laid eyes on you that day at the pool, he'd wanted you. It was only heightened now that you were in his home, lying on one of his beds. His brain told him it was wrong, but other parts of his body screamed that it was so right. When your hands didn't release their hold around his neck, he took that as a good sign and slowly brought his face closer to yours.

There was a mere inch separating the two of you when you finally whispered out. "I want you, Jacob."

"Are you sure?" He asked and you'd never been more sure of anything in your life. You knew this could get messy, but somehow at that moment, you didn't care. You had a little over seven months to figure it all out, surely that would be enough time. Right now, all you wanted to do was give in to the desires that burned deep within you.

A simple nod was all he needed before his mouth was hot on yours, his tongue plunging deep inside you, filling you with a passion that was all-consuming. You met him every step of the way, as your mouth fused with his. Eager hands lifted the hem of your shirt until you were sitting up so that Jacob could toss the garment somewhere in the room. Yours did the same to him, divesting him of every stitch of clothing but his boxers. His mouth left yours only so that it could travel down your skin, kissing your neck, your collarbone, and your breasts. It was only when he reached your stomach, as he was peeling off your panties that he stopped; the air growing heavy as you could see a frown forming. "Is this, ok?" Jacob asked you the simple question yet spoke to your tummy and you knew he was asking about the baby without saying the actual words.

You grabbed his chin between your thumb and index finger. "Hey, look at me." When he did you continued. "It's fine. The doctor said everything looks perfectly normal." That answer seemed to put him more at ease, yet his movements were still hesitant, as he finally slid your panties off. His fingers delved between your folds finding you wet and wanting, and making you pant with need. As good as what he was doing felt, you knew he needed reassurance. Pushing his boxer briefs down, you freed his cock; gliding your hand up and down his length before positioning him at your entrance.

Jacob watched your face intently as he entered you, afraid that he might be causing pain. You knew all he'd see there was pleasure, as he filled your pussy. He held himself still, once he was buried deep within you. It was only when you moved your hips, did he finally let go and start thrusting into you. Wrapping your legs around him, you allowed him to go even deeper yet. Jacob groaned as you moaned out when he hit that spot inside you perfectly. Though you'd only been together a few times it was as if he knew all the tricks that turned your body on. Never in your life had you been with anyone who you'd felt so in sync with, until him. It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit, as your pussy quivered around his cock. Jacob followed you with a few shortened thrusts and a low guttural moan. His lips locked with yours as the last spasms of climax left you both.

He pulled out of you, then rolled onto his back, gasping for air just as you were. "You, ok?" Concern laced his voice, and somehow you found the strength to roll onto your side so you could look at him.

"I'm more than ok." He smiled at you, a dazzling one that even in the dim light of the night, lit up the room.

"And blueberry?"

It took you a minute to realize he was referring to the baby. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

He shrugged into the mattress before allowing his hands to skate down your sides to your midsection. "Seems like a fitting name for now."

"Ok, blueberry it is." It was a peculiar name, you'd give him that, but at least no one would really know what you were talking about until you decided to make the pregnancy more public. "Yes, blueberry is fine as well." He seemed more reassured, so you dropped your head down to rest on his chest. "You know we're going to have to talk about this thing between us more. It could get complicated if we keep ending up in bed."

Jacob just hummed, before adding, "Tomorrow. Let's just sleep now." He was right. There would be plenty of time to discuss it in the daylight, with your clothes on. Until then, you let your eyes drift shut and sleep take you.

There was something about being in Jacob's arms that made you feel safe and secure. That even though you didn't know what the future held, for it was not the one that you had planned, everything would be fine, because he was by your side. When you woke early the next morning before the sun was even out, you laid perfectly still, a bit nauseous having gone without food for longer than the baby wanted, or so you assumed. You tried to move without waking Jacob, for he looked so peaceful in sleep, but when a wave of nausea hit, you took off running for the ensuite.

Jacob was out of bed before he even knew what was happening. He felt you fly out of his arms, only to see you take off for the bathroom. By the time he walked in, your head was halfway in the toilet dry heaving. He felt like a helpless asshole, standing there not knowing what to do. He thought back to the times when he was sick as a child and how his mother would take care of him. So, he found himself kneeling beside you, pulling back your hair while he idly stroked your back. Your body heaved a few more times before you finally stopped, yet still, he continued to rub his large hand up and down your bare skin. "What can I do?"

"Crackers," you were able to mutter back, and he was gone in a flash, as you stayed on the bathroom floor recovering. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; naked, shivering, with your hair a mess. It was quite a sight and you were pretty sure that Jacob would want nothing to do with you after this. How was it that the one man you could finally see yourself being with, was seeing you at your utter worst?

When Jacob walked back into the bathroom, his gut twisted in pain. You looked so small and frail, and all he could think of was that his carelessness had done this to you. He wanted nothing more than to collect you in his arms and protect you, even though he knew that this was something he couldn't shelter you from; it was just a part of life. Still, his heart did that funny little lurch, the one that told him that what he was feeling was way more than even he wanted to admit for you. "Here ya go. I'll stop at the store today, so we can have them in every room for you." It was a small gesture, but he would do anything to prove to you that he was in this for the long haul.

"Thank you." The mumble coming out garbled as you bit down on a saltine. You thought for sure you'd completely turned him off when he left the room, but seconds later he was back with the duvet from the bed sitting down and wrapping you both up in it. The sight the two of you made could only be described as comical, as Jacob grabbed a cracker to munch on with you. You burst out laughing, and he joined you.

"Feeling better?"

"A little."

"So, is this an every morning occurrence? Not that it matters," he said right away. "I'm just trying to be prepared."

You shrugged a shoulder at him. "It's happened a few times, but I've noticed if I eat these," you held up the cracker in reference. "It helps immensely."

He nodded, making a mental note to have them in all the nightstands and end tables for you. "So…about last night…" You knew this was coming but weren't sure you were ready for it this soon. Sure, he had mentioned that he wanted you to move in but after your bout with morning sickness, you knew it was more for the baby's sake than anything between the two of you. Seeing you like this couldn't have been a turn-on. You steeled yourself for what was to come next. "I really want to try and make this work, and not just the parenting thing." You weren't quite sure you were following him. He must have seen the confusion on your face. "Sure, I want to be there for blueberry." You smirked at the use of the baby's nickname. "And I always will be. It's just...you and me. I want to give us a shot as well. I know we don't know each other well, but we can work on that these next several months." His hand absentmindedly went to the back of his neck, and you kind of thought that was a telling sign for him when he was trying to come up with the right words. "I want us to be a couple. Maybe that's naïve to think that, especially since I know it's not what you wanted for your life right now, but I'd like to give it a try."

A tear slid down your cheek at his words, and you could see him already starting to build up a wall at thoughts of your rejections. "I'd like that too." You told him quickly before the stone building could be erected. "There's something between us Jacob, and if I'm being honest, it's more than just this little blueberry inside me." He was smiling again and you couldn't help but return it. That was the thing about Jacob, he seemed to always be in a great mood and it was infectious. "We certainly have chemistry."

"Yes, we do."

Even though you were both on the bathroom floor, naked, eating saltines, there was a smolder in his eyes that told you he wanted you even then. It definitely did things to you. You shook yourself to clear where your mind was headed. "But I think there's even more. Those weeks after Vegas, when we just talked on the phone. Some nights I just didn't want them to end."

"Me either," he admitted. "So, then we're giving this a try?"

"Yeah, I think we are."

There was still this little part of him that was unsure of something, you could see it there; so you raised a brow in query. "Does that mean when you come to the game tonight, I can introduce you as my girlfriend?"

Ah, so that was the problem. "Yes, I'd like that."

Jacob smiled; he definitely liked the idea of telling people the two of you were dating. Not only was it something he wanted the last couple of weeks, but it would make it much easier when you finally decided to tell people about the baby and being married. There was that nagging feeling in the back of his mind again. He should probably tell you right now that he hadn't yet signed the divorce papers, but somehow, he couldn't. It could wait he told himself. If things worked out between the two of you, and he was hoping they would, he'd eventually propose and then you could renew your vows and laugh about the whole incident. That was his plan and he was going to stick with it.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Jacob told you, but you could see the hesitance on his face and you didn't blame him one bit.

"Maybe after I've brushed my teeth."

"Deal," he chuckled. "Feeling better?"

"Much."

"Good, because my ass is cold on his damn tile." He wasn't wrong, yours was as well. He got up in one fluid motion then, helped you stand as well, wrapping the comforter around himself and then him around you. It was quite cozy, if not a bit awkward, as the two of you both brushed your teeth. He kissed you soundly, before the two of you headed back to bed, only this time with sleep on your mind.

A couple hours later, Jacob was up getting ready for practice as you cooked you both breakfast. He headed off to morning skate, saying he'd see you in a few hours, which allowed you some time for work. You made a quick trip to the set of the movie you were working on the ad campaign for, talking with producers about the things your firm had in mind while snapping a few shots of filming. By the time you got back to Jacob's place, he was already home.

He informed you that he talked to his teammate Erik Gudbranson and that his fiancé Sarah would pick you up and take you to the game. He'd given Erik your number so Sarah could call you. Which of course she did, asking if you wanted to grab dinner before the game. Since you had no plans and hated eating out alone, you said yes.

Sarah was an absolute doll. She treated you as if you'd known you her entire life. Through your conversations with her, you learned that she was a dentist, and it was refreshing to know that if you decided to move here you could still pursue your career while supporting Jacob. Sarah gave you all the ins and outs of the hockey world. Telling you how the guys napped every day, which at first you found ridiculous but once she explained about how much energy they were exerting you understood. While also informing you about trades and how one minute you can be playing somewhere and the next day you're up and moving. That was something you didn't want to explore, yet at the same time needed to consider when thinking about the baby. If Jacob got traded at some point, you could be moving to DC or Florida, and even if you weren't together you'd need to figure out how he could see his child. It was a bit overwhelming but at the same time, she made you feel like part of the hockey world.

When you finally got to Rogers Arena, you were feeling more inundated with hockey life. Sarah introduced you to all the wives and girlfriends, some more welcoming than others. You got along particularly well with Bo Horvat's fiancé, Holly, and Chris Tanev's girlfriend, Kendra. They made you feel at home and not an outsider at all. As Holly explained, now that you were with Jacob, you were family. You felt partially bad, considering they didn't know the full extent as to why you and Jacob were together, but there would be time to tell them everything at some point.

The game was a nail-biter and you could see the intensity Jacob had as he stopped each shot. You'd been to a couple of hockey games before, but hadn't paid a great deal of attention, now you couldn't tear your eyes off the ice or at least the home team's goalie. When Jacob let one slip in during the third period, you could see the frustration on his face. It was almost as if he was itching for a fight with the other team, which somehow you found extremely attractive. Thankfully, he was the better goaltender in the end not allowing the puck behind him as the game went into overtime. The Canucks got the W and you found yourself cheering along with the rest of the girls as the team celebrated on the ice.

Sarah had mentioned at dinner, that after the game you could meet up with Jacob downstairs in the locker room, so you followed her along with the others into the recesses of the arena. It took a bit, but soon the guys were coming out one by one.

"He'll be out in a minute (Y/N). I'm Erik by the way, the better half of this one."

"I reserve the right to make that call and so far, you have a lot to live up to." You playfully told Sarah's fiancé, which garnered you more favor amongst Jacob's team members. "I'm (Y/N)," you added holding out your hand for him to shake. "Though you already knew that."

"I did. Jacob talks about you…a lot."

"What do I do?" Jacob sauntered out of the dressing room heading straight for the three of you.

"Oh, I was telling her all your bad habits, like how you fart…."

"ERIK!" Sarah chided, swatting at his chest. "We want (Y/N) to stick around, not scare her away. She hasn't decided if she's moving here or not."

The smile on Jacob's face from the win earlier, fell. He hated the thought of you not staying in Vancouver with him and not just because you were having his baby. He pushed the thought from his mind, as he wrapped an arm around your waist, hauling you close so he could drop a kiss to your forehead. "You could help a guy out you know." He finally told Erik.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure (Y/N) knows what she's getting into."

"Come on, we're leaving before you get Jacob into more trouble." Sarah came over to you then, pulling you from Jacob and giving you a hug. "When you're in town again, which I hope is soon, we'll have you over for dinner. I promise to make Erik be on his best behavior. Oh, and if you need someone to vote on you moving here or just talk about things, you have my number." She gave you a little wink then the two headed out of the building.

When it was just you and Jacob, he finally asked you what he was dying to know since the moment he stepped off the ice. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"It was great." Then you added because you knew he was fishing for it without actually asking himself. "You were amazing. You must have blocked a couple hundred shots. I don't know how you do it."

"Not nearly that many," he chuckled, his arms encircling your waist.

You let yours loop around his neck. "It seemed like that many." He just shook his head lightly. "Well, I still think you deserve a reward." You went up on your toes so you could kiss him.

Just as it was turning heated, a voice had you breaking apart. "Get a room, Marky!"

"Shut up DZ." You recognized him, from Vegas as the guy Jade was into, Michael Del Zotto. You were pretty sure Jade still had an interest in him, but she never admitted if the two of them had hooked up or not.

"Good to see you again, (Y/N). Hope you'll be a more permanent fixture around here."

"We'll see," you answered non-committally.

"Let's head home," Jacob told you, taking your hand as you made your way out of the arena. "Maybe I can think of a way to convince you to stay."

He definitely made a good argument once you were finally home, but sex with Jacob wasn't really an issue. The chemistry between the two of you was something you weren't worried about. It was all the stuff that happened out of the sheets, that you were worried about.

While Jacob practiced in the morning, you worked again, so that when he got back you could head off to the OB/GYN. It was a bit awkward going to a doctor that you weren't familiar with, but then going to the gynecologist was never a fun experience. You supposed you were going to have to get used to it with how many appointments you'd have in the near future. The nurse showed you into the room and had you strip from the waist down. "Do you want me to wait outside?" Jacob offered.

"Why? It's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

His eyebrows picked up and you could see where his mind was going, but then he looked around and suddenly that look was gone. It made you laugh. It wasn't long before the doctor was coming in, thankfully a woman, which made it a bit more comfortable. "So, mom and dad are we ready for this?" You both nodded and she took the probe out, slipping a condom on it before inserting it inside you. You saw Jacob's eyes get round as saucer. You should've warned him that this would be a transvaginal ultrasound and not like the ones they show on tv. You grabbed his hand reassuringly to let him know you were fine. It took a second, but then a picture popped up on the screen. It literally looked like a blob. "Ah, there we go. See right there," she pointed out and you glued your eyes to where she pointed. "That's the baby."

A few more seconds and you could hear this swooshing noise. "And that's its little heartbeat." For some reason you felt tears in your eyes, for it was the most amazing sound you'd ever heard. "It's nice and strong. That's what we like to hear." She did a few measurements checking things out here and there. All the while, you couldn't tear your eyes from the screen. It was only when you felt wetness on your hand that you turned to see Jacob crying as well.

You looked up at him and just smiled. "I didn't think I would be this emotional over Blueberry." It was Jacob's admission but you felt the same way, and you had to swallow hard past all the emotions. You didn't want a baby, at least not at this moment in your life, but right now you wouldn't change a thing. You were in love with the tiny little blueberry on the screen and you felt like you could fall in love with its father as well.

"Blueberry huh?" The doctor said breaking the moment. "Well, I'll print off some pictures of blueberry here for you, but everything looks great. I saw where you're already taking the prenatal vitamins and everything. You'll need to schedule another appointment either here or in LA at the twelve-week mark so the baby can be checked again. If you're doing it in LA you'll want to call and get orders for blood work and urine tests. If you decide to stay here, I'll go write them up now. Just let me know when you come out."

She got up to leave then, but you stopped her. "Doctor," you gave Jacob's hand a squeeze. "Could you get them ready for me for when we leave and set me up with another appointment here?" She nodded then left the room.

Jacob stood there dumbstruck. "Does this mean?"

"Yeah, yeah it does." You sat up from the table to better look at him. "Looks like you've got yourself a roommate, Mr. Markstrom."

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mariibound2003 · 3 years ago

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Scotsman X Diesel 10 headcanons

(yeah, it’s probably an odd pair and y’all are probably furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, but idrc and thought they kinda complimented each other, enough talking for now, let’s hop into the headcanons!~) Before Meeting

*Before meeting, Diesel 10 had already known/heard a lot about Flying Scotsman and his greatest achievements, at first he saw him like any other steam engine and despised him just as much, but over time he gained a sort of admiration for him that he hadn’t shared with any other engine, that admiration would soon turn into a full blown crush, though ofc he wouldn’t admit it outright to anyone, but the couple of posters and newspaper clippings in his shed would tell you otherwise... *Before meeting, Scotsman had heard a few tales about Diesel 10 during his visits to Sodor, though he never fully believed them because he knew how... ‘close minded’ some of the Sodor engines could be, plus he was an open minded individual to begin with due to traveling all across the world and meeting all sorts of individuals, so unless he saw it for himself he wouldn’t fully believe the stories/rumors, he never gets a chance to find out if they are true or not until much later on, due to Diesel 10 usually locking himself away in his shed when not working... When they meet *How they met was simple, Diesel 10 had been driving around to blow off some ‘steam’ after a particularly rough meeting with the Fat Controller discussing about his shed door being broken, which was ‘put aside to be fixed later’ almost a year ago and still hadn’t been dealt with by then, that’s when he pulled up into the station where Scotsman was supposed to be meeting his brother Gordon for lunch, unfortunately Gordon was not available as he was in for repairs and wouldn’t be seeing anyone until tomorrow, Scotsman was about to head off to do something else after hearing this, but before he could get far he finally took notice of Diesel 10 on the track next to him, who was snooping on the convo he had been having with the station master... *Diesel 10 was instantly panicked as he had been spotted and feared that he had already made a bad first impression if Scotsman hadn’t already known about him before now and was prepared for him to start yelling at him, but Scotsman only seemed slightly taken aback by this, he wasn’t a stranger to having people sneak up on him and ask to take photos or to sign things- don’t ask how- so he simply laughed it off and made a few jokes about it, his eyes landing on the warship’s paintwork and gnarly claw on top of his roof, instantly recognizing these things he asks for his name and is delighted- much to Diesel 10′s surprise- to find out it was him!... *Scotsman begins talking about how he had been hearing his name around the island and had wanted to meet him, but ofc never could until now, further making Diesel 10 surprised and he even felt some blush forming on his cheeks, after all, he never thought such a fine, pristine and famous steam engine would want anything to do with a smelly, slightly broken down and scary looking diesel engine like himself, guess he was proven wrong!... *They get to talking, both deciding to head off and hang out for the rest of the day, since Diesel 10 wasn’t needed at the time and Scotsman wouldn’t have anything to do until tomorrow, despite causing a small stir amongst those who passed them by, it was going smoothly and at this point Scotsman could confirm he also had some feelings for his clawed companion, something he had questioned after knowing of the diesel’s existence for awhile, but was only comfortable admitting to it after seeing him in person to make sure the feelings were real... *overall it was a successful hangout and they got along a lot better then anyone would’ve guessed, even after Diesel 10 shamefully confessed that some of the rumors/stories were true, this didn’t change Scotsman’s feelings about him, if anything his honestly about it made his feelings grow stronger and gave him enough incentive to heavily hint at his feelings for the warship, confessing that he ‘always had a soft spot for the rougher and meaner looking engines like him’ and asked for another ‘hangout/date’ together, Diesel 10- very flusteredly- said yes to this and from that point forwards they became an item...

How they are now

*Despite getting flack from the others and being apart for long periods of time, they are quite happy with each other, while the steam engines are not all completely approving of the relationship- with the exceptions of Gordon, Percy, Thomas (kinda) and Edward- the diesels however all were very accepting and Scotsman was almost instantly welcomed by them after Diesel 10 introduced him!... *their dates together usually consist of driving around Sodor talking about what sort of shenanigans they’ve been up to while they were separated, or they get together to have lunch, sometimes Scotsman will bring back gifts and momentos from his travels for Diesel10 and sometimes the rest of the diesels at the Dieselworks. *Diesel 10 does his best to return his kindness, although he isn’t able to get gifts quite like Scotsman’s, he can at least make a mean apple pie, yes you heard that right, he knows how to bake, while sometimes he needs human assistance he can manage the kitchen on his own, Scotsman is always pleased to receive such baked goods from him and insists he makes something that he can take home to show off and enjoy when they’re apart. *Diesel 10 has offered countless times to show Scotsman how to bake/cook good food, because well... Scotsman has an interesting pallet, it’s so outrageous and appalling that it makes the most questionably appetited engines- which is most of them- gag and turn away in disgust, but Scotsman doesn’t mind/care, tho he has been banned from every kitchen within 80 miles of his location because of his crimes against food. *Scotsman is the only engine to ever make Diesel 10 get all soft and mushy and openly show of his dorkier side, despite Diesel 10 being mildly embarrassed if others are around to see it/make fun of him for it, he actually doesn’t mind the attention from Scotsman and won’t really try to stop him from doing whatever it is he was doing to make him feel this way. *they have flirting/compliment wars to see who will get all flustered first... Scotsman- being the natural flirt he is- usually wins, which is part of what makes his dear Diesel 10 a mushy mess. *if you were to catch them at the right time you might hear them singing together, as Scotsman naturally has a good singing voice and Diesel 10 is not half bad either, but he still needs a little practice, thus whenever they meet they’ll practice together. *Scotsman also helps Diesel 10 with confidence, because surprise, surprise! he has some lack in self confidence because of everything that happened in the past and the fact most people/engines outside of the Dieselworks give him dirty looks, hence why he usually hides away, but they’re working on it. *Diesel 10 now refers to Gordon as his ‘favorite brother-in-law’ and likes to antagonize him about it any chance he gets, often times coming to wherever he’s working/following him while doing express runs to do exactly that, Gordon ofc isn’t a big fan of this, but he allows it since Diesel 10 has mellowed out after meeting his brother and Scotsman seems quite happy with him, so he treats it as a minor annoyance more then anything, just like how he treats Scotsman’s ‘Little brother’ comments. *Scotsman often sleeps over at the Dieselworks whenever he’s visiting for a few days, whether it’s just for the sake of visiting or if it’s for some sort of competition on the island he is competing in. *speaking of competitions... while not always able to, Diesel 10 and some of the other diesels try to make it to see Scotsman compete, after all he’s one of them now and they do whatever they can to support him and will even hold a mini celebration with him after all is said and done, regardless if Scotsman won or not, it’s more-so an excuse for him and Diesel 10 to snuggle up next to each other and enjoy each other’s company.

#Thomas The Tank Engine #Thomas and Friends #ttte #ttte flying scotsman #ttte diesel 10 #Flying Scotsman X Diesel 10 #ship headcanons

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luimagines · 3 years ago

Note

Sorry in advance for the length!!!

Since the day he met the rest of… well, Him- Twilight hasn’t thought much of his life back in his Hyrule. His political life, that is. He always thinks about his family and his home back in Ordon, but in no way was he excited to take part in the “responsibilities” of being the “Hero”. Don’t get him wrong, He loves and appreciates Zelda for all that she does for his home. It’s when he’s dragged into meetings or political campaigns across Hyrule that he starts to resent his position.

That position didn’t come without perks, though. He’s treated almost like royalty when he visits Castle Town, and as much as it rubs the humble country boy in him wrong, he appreciates it. He CERTAINLY appreciates the warm, fluffy bed he gets to return to after a long day of stuffy debates. It’s after one of those long days where he finds a suprise waiting for him in that fluffy bed of his.

He and the group of heroes were passing through Twilight’a Hyrule, then they -somehow- received an urgent message from the Princess, requesting “Link” in the castle as soon as he could arrive. Twilight scoffed, uncharacteristically bothered by the news.

“Not so happy to see your Zelda? I thought you two were all buddy-buddy”

“Not the best timing…” Legend nudges Warriors, somehow getting him to shut up.

Tense, twilight leads the group toward Castle Town. Wind could feel the confusion and tension in the group.

“So uh- how are we going to explain that when the Princess asked for Link, she’d be getting all of us?”

Sighing, Twilight trudges through the cool stone halls of the castle. When the group had arrived, it seemed like the entire castle was on high alert. Small groups of guards were stationed at every corner and in every hallway. The cleaning staff were running around, preparing Hylia-knows-what. Kitchen staff were on overdrive, and the Princess herself was in the eye of the storm, giving orders and making requests to a small crowd of people infront of her. Somehow the entire throne room went silent as the group of nine heroes walked in. Taking the lead as to not cause too much alarm was Twilight. Zelda had excused herself to privately greet the Links, which is where Time explained the groups situation. As confusing as it was, Zelda seemed unfazed and almost grateful to have the extra help. Twilight was not.

Thus started the long, arduous day that Twilight had come to dread. Per-Usual, he was stuck running around at the Princess’ beck and call. Discussing training, reviewing documents, prepping speeches, and anything else one could think of Twilight did either with or for Zelda. Thank Hylia the leaders of the other domains weren’t going to arrive at the Castle untill the day after, or else he swore he was going to strangle the rest of the Links who were complaining about their predicament. Time, Warrior and surprisingly Sky were as helpful as they could be, as they were also used to the mess that was running a Kingdom- or the likes of one.

When the day was done, the others were shown to their rooms, which were mostly simple guest rooms for lower-profile travelers and messengers. Twilight was then finally dismissed to his room, a ways away from the rest of the group. He was thankful to have some privacy for a bit- or at least He was, until, he arrived in his room.

He swung open his door, closing his tired eyes. Relying on muscle memory, he closes the door and strips himself of his armor. He sighs as he sheds his tunic and shirt, left comfortably in his pants. He turns to fall into his bed- but instead falls onto the floor. Baffled and now angry at this point, he looks up to see that he tripped over- a basket? With his clothes and sheets? He then notices the small bucket and broom discarded behind him as well. Standing, he is absolutely stunned to see something on his bed.

Rather, someone in his bed. That someone, dressed in the castles’ maid attire, was starting to stir from their position draped across his bed. “Hmm? Who is it? I swear I was just finishing up the- OH!” A Gasp erupts from them, making them shoot up from his bed faster than he thought they could move. His anger dissolved into general irritation as he watches the maid get more and more flustered.

It’s kind of cute to watch, he wonders.

“Oh by the goddess- I’m so sorry! The Princess asked me to clean up the room before the hero arrived, I swear I was almost done- cleaning…”their eyes wondered about him, he could almost feel their embarrassment grow as they started to realize who he was- and how he was dressed. He lets a small smile grace his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m sure the hero is very thankful for your work” his smile widens at the shock on their face. He swears to the goddess he wasn’t enjoying this.

“Wait, you’re- you ARE- oh no…” They shoot up from his bed, stumbling over themselves to seem presentable, utterly embarrassed by their unprofessional first impression. “this is embarrassing… goddess, please don’t report me, this is only my third week and I can’t-“

His laughter rings out and stops them in their tracks. He stifles his giggles and waves his hands

“No no, I promise it’s really ok. After the day I’ve had- and the day I’m sure you’ve had, I’m sure we both could use a nap”

Suddenly aware of himself, he clears his throat and holds out a hand. They hesitantly take it, their grasp soft and warm.

“I’m Tw- Link. You can call me Link”

~*~

Here’s my Twilight/Maid! Reader hyperfixation/daydream/story/ Brainchild/ thing…. Tempted to continue this 👀 (also for @linked-heroes cause I bothered jonk with it haha)

Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight Shirtless Twilight

won't stay off of this blog for long will he

AND THEN CROSSES HIS ARMS!!

@together-in-chains

Yo- it's been dropped.

"I'm sure the hero is very thankful for your work."

He's such a jerk- I love it.

#pinky replies

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the-last-kenobi · 4 years ago

Text

Brain: this is your first day off in weeks you have things to do

Also brain: angst fic angst fic angst fic—

Qui-Gon did not draw his lightsaber. Not yet. It wasn’t safe yet, it wasn’t necessary, either.

Words would do, for now.

He kept his hands safely by his sides as he examined the man across from him — the one holding Obi-Wan tightly to his chest, the boy’s hands bound behind him, a mess of bruises already blossoming darkly across his face and neck.

“There is no need for this,” said Qui-Gon. He infused his voice with all the serenity he could summon, long familiar with its ability to charm and to soothe. “Let the boy go. He’s done you no harm.”

“No,” the man agreed, his voice a contrast, all panicked breaths and strained tension. A cord about to snap. “But you have. You will.”

A warning was now required.

Qui-Gon’s hand drifted slowly to his saber hilt, though his expression remained calm, his blue eyes steady.

The man stiffened, and the hand holding the blaster at Obi-Wan’s shoulder shifted sharply. The weapon was now pressed against the boy’s skull, no doubt cold against the soft hollow behind his ear, and very shakily, too.

One wrong move, one push too far, and —

“Then talk to me,” Qui-Gon said, enforcing his tone with a hint of steel, placing just a touch of inflection on the word ‘me.’

Me, not him.

“I am talking to you!” the man shouted. The blaster shook harder, and he shoved it deeper into Obi-Wan’s skin.

The boy let out a muffled cry, a small sound he bit back almost before it was out, but it was still heard.

His captor tightened his iron grip around the Padawan’s waist, and Qui-Gon slipped his saber free from his hilt, keeping it unlit and held loosely in his hand.

Moves. Countermoves. Actions and reactions.

Obi-Wan’s life on the line.

And beyond that, the fate of the mission, but — one step at a time.

He can’t see past the first step right now.

He’s frightened he’ll miss it, that his foot will slip, and—

All these years of training, of curving his tongue for diplomacy, of learning the rules so thoroughly that he no longer considers them as anything but a baseline, a place to begin and then break away from, and this feels like where everything has been leading to.

Everything.

Qui-Gon’s apprenticeship with a hard man, an inscrutable man, an intelligent and able teacher. His love for his first apprentice, and the anguish that followed Xanatos’ betrayal. The lonely missions, the solo traveling of the universe, and then a spark of light in the form of a small, stubborn boy who saw straight through him.

Now this person, unnamed and unknown, who had stolen his apprentice from the rooms where he had been meant to be resting peacefully, preparing for another day of learning.

“We can talk,” Qui-Gon said. “I give you my word, you will have my full attention, as much time as you need. I will not trick you. Just let my apprentice walk free.”

“You only listen to the politicians, not the people!” the man hurled back, his voice rising almost hysterically. “What about us?”

This was false. Qui-Gon had spent an inordinate, almost diplomatically inappropriate amount of time amongst the civilians, talking to them, listening, learning — this man was a radical, and he was angry.

Apparently he couldn’t shove the blaster any deeper into Obi-Wan’s head, so he squeezed his gauntleted arm brutally under his ribs, lifting the youth off the ground, and Obi-Wan gasped, bucking in the cruel grip instinctively, his wide eyes searching frantically for Qui-Gon’s. The Master reassured him at a glance.

Obi-Wan settled.

“I’m listening,” Qui-Gon said. “Turn my apprentice over to me, and I will continue to listen. But I warn you, delay any longer and I will be forced to stop listening.”

“You’ll listen,” the man panted. “You’ll listen if I have your boy, you won’t have a choice. He’s your responsibility, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Qui-Gon replied in a low tone. “Release him. Now.”

“Master—” Obi-Wan tried to say, but the man holding him jerked his arm harshly into his abdomen again, and he broke off as the air was punched from his lungs.

“Take your hands off my Padawan or there will be no discussion,” said Qui-Gon, and his thumb ignited his green blade with the tiniest motion. Power hummed in his hands. Power to kill, power to protect, power he has learned to control and make harmony with over decades of practice.

“You’re still not listening!”

The man’s grip shifted on the handle of his blaster, and Qui-Gon acted at once, plunging his will deep into the Force and tugging the weapon away so quickly that even he hardly saw it happen. The blaster clattered harmlessly in a corner, and Obi-Wan struggled, throwing his weight forward and kicking his foot deliberately between his captor’s legs. The kick landed, but before he could get away properly he was grabbed again.

The man’s hands scrabbled in thin air and then caught Obi-Wan by the neck, and his face contorted in an expression of desperation and fury. One hand moved to the boy’s jaw, and the other to his skull—

“No!” Qui-Gon cried, pulling again just as Obi-Wan, sensing his impending fate, looked to him in shock.

A blur of motion, a cry, and the unknown man went crashing into the wall, and Obi-Wan fell into Qui-Gon’s extended arm.

Qui-Gon drew him into his chest immediately, reassuring himself that the boy was alive, still breathing, and watched the now unconscious criminal warily, still stunned at the violence of his last, aborted action.

“Master,” Obi-Wan muttered against his tunics.

“It wasn’t your fault, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, feeling the boy’s head shift against his chest, felt his soft red hair brushing his beard. “The mission isn’t compromised. You did well.”

“Master...”

Qui-Gon pushed the boy’s shoulder a little, trying to step back and look at his face, but Obi-Wan sagged against him, his voice slurred. “Master... I’m sorry... I tried to tell you. I should’ve said it. I...”

“What?” asked the Jedi, his eyebrows drawing together in concern and confusion. “What happened?”

“You... you didn’t have to bargain...” Obi-Wan said, still mumbling into his tunics. Still slumped against him. “I’m glad he didn’t... extract any promises from you. For nothing.”

“For—?” Qui-Gon shook his head, bewildered, and looked down to unbind the boy’s hands.

First he saw the rope, biting deep into the soft flesh of the slender wrists, the burns blistering beneath.

Then, as his own hand moved down to touch the knots, he saw something else.

His stomach turned over so sharply that he felt lightheaded.

Like missing the last step on a flight of stairs.

His foot had slipped.

“Obi-Wan— what is this?” he asked, voice turning upwards in a question that did not need to be asked. “What is — when did this — no.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan murmured, sinking further into the one-armed hold that was now all that was keeping his small frame upright. “He didn’t mean to. I fought him too hard. He was desperate to make you negotiate, he needed to bargain... quickly...”

The desperation. The panic. The way he had kept cutting off his hostage’s speech, keeping him pinned against his chest.

Because his hostage had a growing red stain spreading steadily down his back.

“No,” Qui-Gon repeated, putting both arms around his apprentice, careful not to touch the blood, not to touch its source, the gape in the tunics halfway down his back. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“You need healers—” Qui-Gon moved to walk his Padawan swiftly from the room, but Obi-Wan collapsed, dragging them both to the floor in a tangle of robes and limbs, his small face coming to rest against his Master’s collarbone, faint breaths puffing unevenly against his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan echoed. “I’m sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have...”

“You did everything right, I swear it,” Qui-Gon rebutted. “I have to carry you, it will hurt but I have to carry you.”

“I don’t want to be carried,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his words slurring together. “It’s too cold. Can I... can I borrow your cloak? It’s cold. Where’s my cloak?”

“It’s in our rooms.” Qui-Gon staggered to his feet, feeling like he was still falling, still slipping past that last step with nothing to catch his descent. “We have to see the healers first. They’ll warm you up. It will be all right.”

He ran, feeling hot liquid staining his sleeves.

Too much. Too quickly.

How had he not noticed, how had he not guessed—?

Obi-Wan moaned uncomfortably, twisting in his arms, and more hot blood coated Qui-Gon’s hands.

“Hurts,” his Padawan whispered faintly. “Where’s the cloak?”

“I’ll find it for you,” Qui-Gon promised.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said simply, his voice too young, and too trusting.

He rested his head against his Master’s chest, his forehead bumping against it in time with the thundering strides Qui-Gon was taking, sprinting through the deserted halls, leaving red stains in his wake.

And then Obi-Wan sighed, coughed wetly, and went utterly limp, his body growing so very heavy in his Master’s arms, his head lolling away, dangling helplessly over the crook of one arm.

Qui-Gon’s foot slipped.

He crashed to the ground and held Obi-Wan to his chest. His knees collided painfully with stone.

Something inside him broke and slipped away and fell down, down, down, and he tumbled after it, seeking something that was never coming back.

(He waited just long enough to watch his boy burn on the pyre.)

(And then he Fell the rest of the way down, down, down...)

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<

#star wars #my writing #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #obi wan and qui gon #master and padawan #angst #tw character death #tw blood

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cosmiceverafter · 3 years ago

Note

20 for the touch asks?

20. bandaging/stitching up an injury

@chamblerstara / @manesalex - sorry this took me so long, but I hope you enjoy it. It was wonderful writing for our boys again. Thank you for the inspiration. ❤

***

I'll take care of you.

Alex missed Michael, which was why he had picked up a 6-pack from the local market and was now standing outside of the alien's trailer even though a windstorm had just passed through Roswell.

They were both single, and any time they were together, the air seemed to grow thick with desire. It was undeniable. Not that Alex wanted to deny it, not anymore.

It was crystal clear at this point that Alex's heart would always belong to Michael. Whether the alien felt the same...well, that's what Alex wanted to find out.

Taking a deep breath, he commanded his feet to step closer to the metal door. With a tap, tap, tap of his knuckles, Alex waited patiently.

After a moment, he heard a shuffle and then something dropping to the ground.

"Michael?" Alex called out, suddenly worried. When he didn't hear a reply, Alex pounded with his fist. "Michael, are you in there? Are you okay?"

Finally, he heard Michael say, "Alex, I'm fine. Just...come back later."

But Michael wasn't okay—Alex could tell by the tone of his hoarse voice. "Open the damn door, Michael."

When he heard a loud curse, the door opened up by itself with the help of his love's powers. It always sent a thrill through Alex to witness it.

Alex took all but two seconds to maneuver his body into the airstream, and that was when he saw Michael huddled over his small bed, shirtless with blood trailing down his back.

"Damn..." Alex hissed out as he took in the sight of the alien's body. He rushed over to Michael.

"I've been working out," Michael quipped, shifting to give Alex a half-grin.

Alex ignored Michael's deflecting. "What the hell happened, Guerin?"

Michael winced as he sat onto the bed, "Nothing. Just a stupid accident. It's fine."

"I swear to God, Michael—"

The alien put his hands up, "Okay, okay, Manes. Don't get your blood pressure cookin'."

Alex frowned, raising an eyebrow, "Well? Tell me."

Michael smirked and tilted his head to the side, "Yea' know, you're pretty sexy when you get in protective control mode."

Alex's heart fluttered, but he shook his head, getting even closer to Michael. "Please, just tell me what happened."

Michael's humorous expression fell. He glanced down at his hand, which Michael had finally uncovered, "I went out in the middle of the desert to analyze my new equipment, and it didn't go according to plan."

"Which equipment would that be?"

"I didn't tell you?" Michael asked, confused.

"No..." Alex answered, feeling put out over that fact. There had been a time not too long ago, where they were working closely together side-by-side. What had changed? And why did it hurt so badly that it was no longer the case?

Michael winced as he twisted his upper body to grab a wet rag. "I am trying to build a device, well, a pod-like type structure to communicate..." He suddenly looked up, and if Alex didn't know any better, embarrassment was showing upon Michael's handsome scruffy face.

"With your kind?"

"Somethin' like that."

With a reassuring smile, Alex sat on the far side of Michael's tiny bed, "That's amazing, Guerin. Any success so far?"

Michael shook his head in disappointment, his curls swaying, "I thought maybe I had gotten somewhere with the damn thing...I heard somethin', but just before I could examine what I was actually catching, that damn windstorm came out of nowhere and blew one of the metal rods directly onto my back."

Shit. "Did it break?"

"Yes, unfortunately. It got pretty messed up." Michael groaned and rubbed his hand over his face, "I clearly won't be attempting it again any time soon."

Michael stood up with a hard sigh and attempted to reach behind his back to wipe the cut.

"Can I help you?" Alex asked before he realized the words were out of his mouth.

Michael tensed but acknowledged Alex with a stiff nod, "Sure. Thanks."

Alex took a deep breath and stood up, taking the rag from Michael, trying to ignore the thrill he felt at their fingers touching. Only Michael made his body come alive like this—Alex never wanted the feeling to disappear.

Gently, Alex touched the rag onto the deep cut, and Michael hissed. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Michael responded. "Here, let me turn on a bit more light." With his powers, a lantern slowly illuminated the small space with a glow.

It was the first time, in far too long, that Alex could observe Michael's body properly. In the light, Michael's skin shone as the moon covers the sand with sparkling dust. His beautiful curls twisted and turned, capturing the light as it touched his soft tan neck.

Alex swallowed and demanded his attention to Michael's injury. With deliberate action on his part, Alex wiped the blood away and could see Michael gripping at his jeans. "Maybe we should have Kyle come look at this. You may need stitches."

"Nah, it's late, and the good doctor probably has far more important patients to look after."

But you are important, Alex wanted to say.

"Besides," Michael added, turning his head, looking Alex up-and-down, "I'm obviously in good hands here."

"We'll see about that," Alex replied with a laugh. "It's been some time since I've had to put my first-aid skills to the test."

"But you learned the skills, right?"

"Yup, in the military, we're trained in all areas."

"Mmm," Michael murmured, "no wonder you're so talented with those hands."

This. This right here was what Alex missed. The playful banter between the two, with that suggestive flirting. It came so naturally to them both, and Alex wanted to soak it up like a sponge. "Hush, let me finish."

"Yes, sir," Michael laughed, swirling back around. Michael propped his muscular arms up against the wall in front of him and bowed his head down.

Alex had to keep reminding himself that Michael was injured and now was not the time to think what he was so desperately imagining at that moment. But it was challenging with Michael bent over like that, his backside so close to the front of Alex's pants.

It had been so long since they had been together like that. Only in Alex's dreams did he allow himself to travel into the memory of bliss once more.

"Okay," Alex said, breaking the silence, "can you sit back on the bed?" He cleared his throat, hoping Michael couldn't hear how low his voice had become. "I'm going to bandage you up now."

Michael glanced back at him as if he caught on to Alex's dirty ideas and nodded, "Yup, I can do that." He sat down and pointed to the dresser, "The bandage is in the first drawer."

"Thanks," Alex said, stepping in front of Michael to retrieve the bandage. When he picked it up, Alex noticed a picture underneath.

It was of them, younger in the desert. Alex was holding his guitar, and Michael was smiling as he stared over at him. Alex could remember the exact day, it had been a lovely day between them, and Alex's chest suddenly felt tight.

"You okay?" Michael asked from behind him.

Alex nodded, not trusting his voice as a wave of emotion came over him. The past connected them, and Alex wondered if the future was theirs for the taking or if they would forever remain in the memories.

"Alex?"

Gripping the bandage, Alex turned around, holding the photograph of them in his other hand, "The picture of us in the desert."

"Oh, yeah," Michael's mouth fell open in surprise. "I forgot I put it in there."

"You kept it, after all this time?"

"Of course I did," Michael replied with a shrug. "We don't have many together."

"Well, we should change that," Alex instantly responded.

"Yeah, I think we should." Michael smiled that beautiful smile of his and laughed, "Should we start now? This moment is quite the experience to share with the world—your incredible wrapping skills and my epic loss to the windstorm."

"It would give the people of Roswell something to talk about," Alex added as he joined in with laughter. "That's for sure."

"As if they need more to discuss. Hell, we have enough tourists trying to spot little green aliens!"

Alex smirked, "I'll just add the caption, 'Just wrapping up a cowboy alien, who's anything but green. How's your night going?'"

"Yee-haw! I like it!" Sharing a good laugh, Alex put the picture back into the drawer and closed his eyes, hoping for more moments shared such as these.

Beyond the humor, it wasn't a deep conversation of their future together, but it was, in fact, a door opening.

Feeling a deep sense of relief, Alex finally came back towards Michael and sat behind him. Letting his abilities take over, he started wrapping the bandage around Michael, allowing his fingers to trail over Michael's chest greedily. The light moment between them had shifted; now, another emotion took its place.

Alex pushed up closer to Michael's back, and he could smell Michael's scent: Bourbon, rust, and rain. It was 100% Michael, and it felt like coming home.

Michael sighed and seemed to lean back without even recognizing he was moving. Alex steadied him and peered down at Michael's back. The bandage covered the injury nicely, and Alex's lips hovered just above Michael's skin. He wanted nothing more than to press a soft kiss right there as he had so many times before.

The alien trembled as if he could sense what Alex desired. The invisible string that pulled Alex in was a smooth ride; pulling away was the challenging resistance.

"All finished."

Michael turned to face Alex, and his fingers grazed the back of Alex's hand. "Thank you. I appreciate those gifted hands of yours."

Alex beamed, enjoying the compliment probably a bit too much, "Anytime." He meant it. Alex would always be there for Michael.

They gazed at each other, which felt like an eternity and a flash of a second all in one. It was so easy to get lost in those eyes.

Finally, Michael shook his head and moved away, snapping Alex out of his trance, "Sorry, I didn't even ask why you stopped by tonight."

"I just wanted to see you," Alex answered truthfully. "I even brought you something you like."

"What is that? You?"

Alex blushed, but luckily it was still too dark in the airstream for Michael to witness, "A delicious elixir of sorts." He nodded towards the beer.

"Not as good, but a very close second," Michael laughed as he set his warm hand on Alex's leg. "You're so thoughtful, Manes."

"What can I say? I try to be," Alex said, raising an eyebrow. The flirting was strong tonight, not that Alex was complaining.

"Who knew you'd have to take care of an alien instead?"

"I didn't mind," Alex shrugged. "Truly."

Michael squeezed Alex's leg and bit into his lip. His expression was somewhat changing, "I have something to ask you."

"Okay...shoot."

"Will you help me?"

"I thought I already had." Michael narrowed his eyes, and Alex smirked, "Help you with what, Michael?"

"With my communicator? I can't do it alone, and with my genius of a brain and those magnificently talented hands of yours, I think we could create some magic here." Yes, they could. In more ways than one. Getting serious, Michael looked down at the blanket on his bed, "I should've asked you a while ago."

"You're asking me now. That's what matters," Alex replied. "I would love to help create with you, Guerin."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say."

Alex smiled, feeling love for Michael pour out of his heart. He would create it all with Michael if only given a chance to do so. "While you rest that shoulder of yours, explain your vision, and we'll go from there."

Michael returned the grin and started expressing what he imagined within that brilliant mind of his, never faltering and never losing the gleam in his eyes.

This moment was proof that even though they had been through hell and back, the two of them could face any challenge—weather any storm.

Together, Michael and Alex could conquer the galaxy as long as they had each other.

#malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #michael x alex #alex manes #michael guerin #tw: injury #this was a lot longer than i intended

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marvelettesassemble · 4 years ago

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Safe House (Bill x F Reader)

Summary: When his family has to go in hiding Bill asks you – his coworker and spy for the Order - if they could stay at your safe house.

Warnings: Reader has problems with sleeping and feels lonely, small swear words, mentions of sex

Words: ~3.9k

A/N: I wanted to write a Bill story for a while, because there isn’t enough stuff about him. But this took me 3 weeks I think and I struggled. But its finished now and hopefully the next one will be better

You looked up from the little box in front of you after you had inspected the bruise-healing paste for a long time.

“Long time no see,” the tall guy in front of you said with a smirk on his face that you had almost forgotten existed.

“Weasley, what are you doing here? Last time I heard you were still in Egypt,” you sounded surprised.

“It was time to calm down a little bit and to stay closer to my family. I think I need a break from curse breaking and I’m currently on desk duty here in London.”

“So, you’re getting old. Maybe this paste would have helped you,” you tapped your finger on the box that you still had in your hand before you put it back in the stand. “We have to meet up for coffee sometime to see which one of us has the better stories to tell. See you around, Weasley.” You nodded at him before you left the shop owned by the twins of the person you just spoke to.

Back in the shop Bill Weasley picked up the exact box you had just put down and went to the register to pay for it. He was greeted by his brother George who told him he didn’t have to pay for it, he still had some paste in his office that he could have. “No, I want this one. It’s a gift, but if you’ll give it to me for free, I won't say no.” He winked at his younger brother and left the shop and disapparated. When he was at the burrow he opened the box and pulled out the paper you had put in there.

Your last stay had been in Spain and he was glad that he had recruited you for the Order as you were the perfect spy. Nobody suspected anything when you travelled in particular places or asked specific questions with you being a curse breaker just like him, but it could be described as kind of a freelancer. You didn’t stay at one place, which makes it even more perfect. He sighed and had to stop reading your neat handwriting as he was missing his old job.

While he stayed in Egypt and was busy getting from one tomb to another you had stayed at your family home in England. You started your research from home and when you had enough information or needed to gather information you travelled for a few weeks, maybe a month but not more than two and you always had your home back in Great Britain where you would come back to.

Him meeting you in public and making it seem like you haven’t seen each other for a while had been your idea. Owls had a tendency to get lost in these times and this was the safest way they had so far. His heart felt a bit heavy as he thought back to the times when he had to shield his eyes from the sun and he though his body couldn’t produce anymore sweat, but the excitement flowing through his veins when he thought of the unknown which laid in front of him. He missed those times when he could forget everything around him and just had to concentrate on the mission in front of him.

Long gone were these times, but when he looked at the watch in the corner and saw the faces of his siblings, he knew he had made the right decision. What was a little bit of freedom and excitement when he now had the chance to make sure his siblings were okay? No, he had definitely made the right decision!

He went back to reading your letter and noticed on the bottom of the parchment a code. You would meet him tonight and the letters told him where exactly.

“Hey carrot head,” you smiled brightly at him when he walked towards you. “I brought you something, I hope this will help your mom stuffing your mouth,” you nodded towards the big basket which stood next to your feet and was filled with carrots.

“Not my favourite,” he mumbled and sat down next to you. As it was getting dark he couldn’t really see you.

“What would please you more? Beans? Potatoes?”

“I loved mashed potatoes,” Bill admitted and he though he saw you nodding.

“Noted. Next time I’ll bring potatoes.”

“Why are you bringing vegetables?” He asked confused until you told you him you had a big garden. Your grandpa had taken a liking to growing vegetables and you had taken over and never really let go. Your sleeping schedule was a mess and so you enjoyed tending to your plants when sleep wouldn’t come. It was way too much for you, but you liked the work and you know the Weasleys were a big family.

“How come I don’t know where you live?” he wondered suddenly.

“Because it is a secret,” you whispered and then you started giggling. “And now to the important stuff, we don’t have all night.”

You noticed Bill playing with his earring. It was a reminder of his first job in Egypt and he refused to get rid of it despite everything his mother said. You had noticed that he started doing that when he was nervous. “What’s on your mind?” you finally asked when you almost got bored of watching him – almost.

“I might have to ask a favour of you,” he started but stopped.

“Okay, just ask. I do have the option of refusing, right?” you laughed but Bill didn’t join you. He was just so nervous. A few months had passed since you had brought him the carrots.

“There is a slight chance that the order is being compromised and if the headquarter falls... the burrow isn’t safe everyone knows where we live... I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you’d let my family into your home. I know it has been a safe house for decades, but I don’t really know how to make it and I fear I don’t have the time to learn it.”

You were quiet for a while. “Okay, but I’ll only let your family in, no one else. Bill, you have to promise me, no one else!” You put pressure on the last words, but you noticed that the man in front of you was relieved. He stopped playing with his earring and instead he hugged you. He caught you by surprise but then your arms sneaked around his torso.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and you felt how relieved he was.

The Order had taken many setbacks but the latest one was the death of Albus Dumbledore. You didn’t really know what or when it happened, you were on your own mission. So, when you came back to the Burrow and the first person you saw was Bill with scars on his face you were shocked, but it also made you realise that you didn’t have time anymore.

“Is it okay, if I touch your face?” you asked hesitantly. He nodded slowly and you took the seat next to him. Both of you stared in each other's eyes and you carefully put your hands on each cheek. You felt the rough skin beneath your fingertips, then closed your eyes and told Bill to do the same. You then thought about your home, the house and the fields, the massive garden and the small greenhouse, the little lake next to it and pushed that image towards Bill. You opened your eyes again.

“When it’s time you have to take your family and come there. It doesn’t matter when, you can apparate there now. Anytime, okay? I know I said only your family, but now that I know everyone my invitation also includes Harry and Hermione. You can gather them and come even now, but please don’t wait until it's too late,” you begged.

You had met the rest of the Weasleys at the Headquarter and you were surprised how nice and welcoming they were. The whole family risked so much for doing the right thing and protecting Harry, there was no way that you wouldn’t welcome them into your home.

“Now that that is out of the way you have to tell me how that happened,” your fingertips fluttered over the uneven part of his face.

Was there someone knocking? No one knew where your house was unless... You jumped up from the chair and placed the book hastily on the table. You were wide awake now and grabbed your wand and opened the door. The people in front of you didn’t look much better than you considering it was night time and they stood in their pyjamas in front of you.

“Come in,” you said and opened the door to let them all in. Bill entered first, followed by Molly who thanked you and Arthur who hugged you and didn’t stop thanking you either, then Harry, Ron, Hermoine and Ginny and then the twins. “Do you want tea?”

You agreed to have tea before everyone would head to bed and while you prepared the drink Bill filled you in. The ministry had fallen and they got a note from Kingsley so they fled and came right to your door. Your house wasn’t small by any chance but with that many people they had to share some rooms.

The next day three people were missing. Harry, Ron and Hermione had disappeared during the night and only left a little note to tell you all not to worry. This didn’t really ease anyone minds, but no one was really surprised. Everyone had a different way to deal with the stress. Yours was your garden that you tended to when you weren’t discussing your next moves.

You were currently in the green house tending to the tomatoes when the red head with the long hair joined you. “I have to leave soon. We need some supplies and I have to get some information. But I can’t leave when I’m the only secret keeper, so I’m still doing research how to get another secret keeper.” you informed him when he grabbed himself some gloves and pulled them on. They were too little for his big hands but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you sure you want to go? We don’t know how safe it is,” he admitted and pulled some we weed from the soil.

“I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” you said with more confidence than you actually had. “Will you help me with my research?” You spent an hour together in the green house, sharing stories from your curse breaking days before you made your way inside to start your research. Arthur joined you and you spent the day between books before Molly called you for dinner.

Despite everything that was going on it was an enjoyable dinner. Molly had made a soup from the vegetables from your garden and the twins did most of the talking. You continued the research after your meal and you noticed how your eyes started to get heavy when Arthur announced he found something.

Bill and you walked over to him and after a short discussion you were sure that he had found what you were searching. “So, you’re going to tell me that Bill would have been the next secret keeper as I’ve already showed him how to get here and we spent the whole day searching for nothing?” you asked not really believing what you had just learned. It was that easy?

“Well, I guess that I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe you should write me a note what you need so I can get that,” you said still buffed. You said goodnight soon and left the two Weasleys in the room to make your way to the bed.

“Did she just made me the second secret keeper without knowing it?” Bill said when it was just him and his father.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she is mad. She wanted to do it and she’s just exhausted, poor girl isn’t really sleeping. I hope she gets enough rest so she’s fit tomorrow.”

Bill was fumbling with his earing again and mumbled that he wished he could accompany you.

“Because you want to get out of the house or because you want to make sure she’s safe?” his father asked and pretended to still look in the book so his son wouldn’t feel to pressured.

“Both,” admitted his eldest son.

“Maybe you should just tell her?” Arthur closed the book and put it on top of the other ones they had used.

“Dad, we’re at war. We live in her house because they’re searching for us. I don’t think that this is the right time.”

“Then what is the right time?” Arthur put his hand on Bill's shoulder and squeezed it lightly before he let go and made his way to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

The next day you left after everyone had told you what they needed. You were gone longer than you anticipated and when you reappeared you had to take a deep breath. Bills long hair was flowing around his head and you watched him putting it behind his ears before he picked up the axe again to chop some wood. The noise of the axe hitting the wood carried over to you and you watched him for a while. You thought that you could get used to coming home and seeing him first thing. Suddenly he turned around and when he saw you standing there he let go of the axe and walked over to you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked when you were in earshot.

“Yes, can you help carrying these inside?” you pointed to the bags at your feet. He picked them up so there was only one left for you. “You coming?” he asked when he took a few steps towards the house and noticed you hadn’t followed him. You nodded and walked quickly so you could walk by his side.

The warm air engulfed you when you entered your home. You walked into the kitchen and put the bag on the big table next the ones Bill had already placed there. It didn’t take long for the other to noticed that you came home. You didn’t just bring groceries and clothes but also information you needed. There was a lot to talk about so you found yourself in the living room when it was already dark outside. The once loud conversation turned quiet when Arthur und Molly retired first. You got tired and while you still heard the conversation in the room you started to fall asleep. You were rolled up like a cat, your feet touching Bill's thighs and your head uncomfortably on the arm rest, but you were finally asleep.

“Did you know that a good shag helps with sleeping problems?” Fred asked not really directed at anyone, but Bill sent him a death glare none the less.

“Would you shut up?” Bill made sure his brother didn’t wake you and you were still out like a light next to him.

“What? It’s not like I offered myself. Although I did say a good shag,” Fred put his hand on his chin as if he was still contemplating before he had to dodge the pillow his older brother was throwing at him.

George caught the pillow and placed it behind his back. “What my brother is trying to say: Will you finally make a move? Maybe it will give you both a little bit of peace."

When Bill looked at you and noticed the awkward state you fell asleep in he decided to wake you up. You excused yourself for falling asleep but the other Weasleys just told you to go to bed and get some rest. When you made your way outside the room you grabbed the armchair to stabilized yourself without noticing that it was George's arm instead. Three worried glances followed you out of the room.

“Seriously, we have to make sure that she finally sleeps, especially when she’s the only one who can leave. Last time I went to grab some water and saw her cooking apples at 3am because she couldn’t sleep,” Fred said. George rubbed his arm and told them he had also met her in the kitchen when he couldn’t sleep anymore.

Bill surprised you that night in the kitchen and you almost threw the spoon in your hand as you hadn’t heard him approaching you. Surprisingly he stayed calm but you were freaking out. You started apologizing over and over again. You were tired and you were preserving vegetables.

Instead of scolding you he just asked how long you’ve been awake and you admitted that you couldn’t sleep after you went to your bedroom. “You need to get to bed,” he said and turned off the stove, put his hands on your shoulder and stirred you in the direction of your bedroom. You were beat and didn’t protest until you laid in bed, Bill sitting next to you and when he started talking about cauldron thickness you soon fell into a deep sleep.

Without you knowing it the Weasleys started to stick closer to you. When you usually were alone tending the garden suddenly Fred and George helped picking up the apples. Arthur gathered the fallen leaves while you picked up the fallen branches and pilled everything for the animals. You and Molly prepared the dinner together and every time you left Bill welcomed you home as he waited in the garden. You couldn’t deny that you heart beat faster every time you saw him standing in front of your house.

Another thing you noticed is that every evening you all sat together in the great living room and the others noticed that you always fell asleep when someone sat with you in the evening. You often played board games and it was then you noticed that you had felt lonely all this time. You loved the noises around you, the feeling that there was somebody else by your side. This was what had been missing all this time. The big house was just too much for one person. Without realising you had grabbed the hand next to you and Bill squeezed your hand shortly before his thumb swiped over your hand. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes, everything is alright.” You loved the feeling of your hand in his warm one and you didn’t let go of his hand even when you fell asleep sometime later that night. But still when you laid in your own bed you couldn’t find sleep again. Suddenly an idea struck you and before you could tell yourself how dumb this idea was you jumped out of bed and walked through the hallway to another door and knocked. When you heard a response, you opened the door and quickly walked so you wouldn’t wake another person. Bill had sat up in your old childhood bed. It was strange seeing him in the bed that been yours when you were a kid and a teenager.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked and your heart leapt at the pet name he used.

“It’s dumb, but... ugh, I wanted to ask you, if... ifIcouldsleepwithyoutonight,” you mumbled the last part so fast Bill wasn’t sure if he had understood you correctly.

“You want to sleep with me?” you could hear the smirk and that he didn’t sound as sleepy as before. But he knew you better than you thought because he told you to come over and he lifted the duvet for you. “Come here,” he said and walked quickly over the cold floor into the warm bed. A soft sigh left your mouth when you were surrounded by warmth.

Both of you laid on your back on each side on the bed and you let your hand find his before you fell into a deep sleep. You slept the best you’ve had for a long time, but same couldn’t be said about Bill. He couldn’t find sleep again with you laying next to him, your hand touching his. He wanted to pull you into his arms. Maybe he could sleep with his face pressed into your hair? But he didn’t want to wake you or make you feel uncomfortable so he stuck to this position with his thoughts going wild.

Bill pretended to be asleep when you woke up the next morning and gave you a few minutes before he left his room. But when you stepped into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind yourself George was greeting you with a shit eating grin on his face. “Morning,” he said without adding anything else. “Oh, shove it,” you said and walked past him towards your room. You didn’t see the point in telling him nothing had happened between you and his brother.

When Bill entered the kitchen his twin brothers were already there and of course George had told Fred what he had witnessed this morning. “So, did the shag help? Or were you too busy to even think about sleep,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

“Nothing happened,” Bill said and grabbed a cup.

“Too bad, so I think I have to offer my services then.”

“What services?” you asked when you entered the room.

“Fred wants to expand our services for the shop,” George cut in.

“Tell me more,” you said after you filled a cup and sat down next to the trio. It didn’t take long for them to come up with something so they didn’t have to tell you what they really talked about.

Days passed, then weeks and it was an unspoken rule that you end up in Bills room after a failed attempt of going to sleep. You soon noticed that you couldn’t fall asleep because you didn’t want to be alone. And then it took a few days until you noticed you didn’t want to be without Bill. He made you laugh more and more. Like when you saw him pulling on a lumberjack jacket and asked him what he was doing. He had replied that he you needed more fire wood and you watched him through the kitchen window. You had seen how he picked up the axe without a problem and as if he had known that you were watching him, he slapped his butt with his free hand which caused you to laugh out loud and you had to hide behind the wall so he wouldn’t see that you had been watching him.

You also noticed that every night before you would leave the next day hugged you a little more and pulled you closer to himself. And when you came back, he still waited in the garden and grabbed your hand to guide you back to the house. Everyone noticed this but nobody commented on it. They noticed in the tentativeness when you grabbed his hand after hanging up your coat that the two of you hadn’t talked about what was happening between you.

And suddenly there wasn’t time to talk about it anymore. Suddenly the war was right in front of you with maybe the biggest battle and you had to get out of your hiding place. But in the way that Bill grabbed your hand with such determination and when you pulled you to himself and pressed his lips desperately against yours before you had to leave made you realise that you were in this together.

#Bill Weasley #Bill x Reader #Bill Weasley x Reader #marvelettesassemble #Bill Weasley Fanfiction #Weasley x Reader #bill weasley ff

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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Every Part of me - Tom Holland smut

The one where you and Tom are ex-lovers

Warnings: smut, kinda dubcon? but maybe not really (Tom just steps in and makes sexual decisions without discussing previously with the reader, but she accepts it wholeheartedly), slight degradation (Tom calls the reader cockslut and greedy little whore and dumb little baby, but I think that’s it), face fucking that causes slight asphyxiation, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking and the likes

A/N: Day 2 of Kinktober! Today’s prompts were face fucking and breeding kink with Tom Holland. Hope you guys like it! And thanks for everyone who has sent me messages about my accident, I’m actually feeling a lot better, although still in huge pain.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I knew he’d been watching ever since I stepped foot in the set. To be fair, I couldn’t say I wouldn’t do the same. It hadn’t been much over a month since we decided to call it quits, and despite knowing it was for the best, it didn’t change the fact that my body still felt perfectly tuned to him and his gaze, the way he’d lick his lips after his eyes caught mine. So I tried not to look, knowing it wouldn’t make much of a difference in the end.

At least my job was quick and easy and despite knowing he’d be around, we weren’t expected to be in a scene together. Still, two weeks felt fourteen days too long and the day before I was expected to leave, the exhaustion of being on the edge all the time had caught up with me. I was scared, constantly tense about the possibility that I’d find myself standing too close to him and one whiff of his cologne would make me lose all the control I was struggling to hold onto.

I couldn’t even predict what would happen, I just know it wouldn’t be good. Not for our intentions to stay away from each other. So that’s why when Anthony and Robert asked if I wanted to go out for drinks, to celebrate my last night on set, I politely refused, explaining how utterly drained of all energy I felt. Thankfully, they conceded, leaving me alone to sleep this last night before I could go back to the comfort of my own house. I guess the fact that they knew about our break up helped a bit. Robert had looked at me with kind eyes that let me know he was understanding of my situation.

Nonetheless, as soon as I got into my room, I grabbed a bottle of wine and unscrewed it, determined to finish it tonight. Perhaps the buzz would help me sleep, but what I needed the most, however, was a distraction, and since a night out with friends wasn’t possible, I decided to give myself a night of relaxation.

As I poured myself my first glass, I stripped down to nothing, leaving my clothes on the floor as I opted to put on one of the silk robes the hotel offered. Nothing says solo party like semi-nudity. Besides, I was planning on jumping in the tub any minute now.

My idea, however, was cut short by a strong knock on my bedroom’s door.

Raising an eyebrow, I approached the door cautiously. I wasn’t expecting anyone and I hadn’t even called for a meal yet. Another knock resonated and I sighed, quickening my step to open the door to the stranger.

“Tom.” The word came out more as a whisper than anything else. He, on the other hand, didn’t say a word. Instead, his eyes gazed hauntingly into mine with an intensity I hadn’t ever seen before. “What are you doing here?” I asked when I felt enough courage to break the silence, but my voice came out weak and hesitant. I hated myself for that. I wanted to sound strong, enthusiastic, even. Not like someone who missed the weight of his body over mine.

The same thought must have been in his head because at last, his eyes broke our connection to travel the extent of my body. Self-conscious, I tried to better adjust the robe around me, hoping to hide more of my skin from his view.

It didn’t take a genius to see that he didn’t like that.

Tom’s P.O.V.

Seeing Y/N wearing only a robe, not even a foot away from me, after only dealing with memories of her scent, was too much and yet everything I needed at that moment. I could smell her now. That vanilla body wash she always took with her wherever she’d go, lilies and wine. I guess she’d been drinking.

Maybe that’s why her lips were so red.

I wanted to lick it off of her, kiss her until she lost all the air in her lungs, bite her luscious lips until they were red for a completely different reason.

I subconsciously licked mine, eyes still fixated on her mouth before looking down to admire the skin that was available for me to look at.

She fixed her robe, trying to hide more from me.

I didn’t like that.

Before I could even realize what I was doing, I was pushing her inside the room, slamming the door behind us. To every step I gave in her direction, she gave one to distance her body from mine, but I was having none of it. I quickened my movements until I was able to wrap an arm around her lower back and pull her to me, my lips immediately finding hers.

It was like heaven and hell all at once. God, I knew I’d missed her taste, but having it in my lips again, being able to explore the inside of her mouth with my tongue brought me such a powerful exhilaration that I felt like my knees would buckle at any second.

Still, I couldn’t separate myself from her. Not even when she tried to push me away, to end our kiss - no doubt struggling with the memories of that terrible night when we decided to call it quits. But I was done going through the same reel again and again. I didn’t want to remember her anymore. I wanted her right here, with me.

So I chased her away, making sure our lips stayed connected until she had nowhere to run anymore. Pressed up against the wall, I had all the control I’d been wanting over her now. So I deepened our kiss, burying one of my hands on her hair so I could force her head back to accept my eager tongue, and when I was finally able to do so, my other hand pulled on the string of her robe until it fell open and I had all of her body exposed to me.

“Tom…” She managed to gasp as she struggled against my hold on her, but I was having none of it.

“Shut up,” I warned her, already prying her lower lips open with my index and ring finger as I inserted my middle one on her weeping hole. “Fuck.” The chuckle that I gave held no humor, only a mocking tone that I hardly recognized as mine. “For someone who’s so resistant to my touch you sure are wet, sweetheart.”

Perhaps I was still angry at her. Maybe that’s why I felt this overwhelming need to be mean, to make sure that she did just what I wanted. Perhaps then she’d know how I’d felt ever since that night.

She stopped struggling then, accepting my invasion of her space as I took her mouth on mine again, pressing her against the wall as I fucked her with a single finger, before adding another and another.

I could feel her struggling to accept me, the thickness of the three digits stretching her open and I had to laugh. “I can see you haven’t been properly fucked since I was last inside this little pussy, huh?” I teased, and she only whined in response, moving her hips to thrust back against my hand. “Gotta prepare you, love…” Kissing her, I made sure to leave a few bruises on her neck when I left her lips, my fingers never stopping their movements inside of her. “Gotta make sure you’ll be able to accept my cock in here again.”

Maybe it was what I said, maybe it was the fact that I finally relented and started to rub on her clit with my thumb, but I had her cumming around me in seconds, making me grin darkly as I continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

“Such a dumb little baby, thinking you could leave me. Saying all of those things and leaving me to pick up the pieces of my heart. Well, let’s see how you speak now, with my cock in your mouth.”

I pushed her on her knees and immediately she was reaching out for my jeans, but I slapped her hands away. “You get what I give you, nothing more. Now sit back and wait for my cock like a good girl.”

The sight of her with her bottom lip sticking out, those cute puppy eyes appearing from under her eyelashes made my heart grow twice its size. How did I think I could live without her? How did she so easily give up on me, leaving me behind after one single fight?

The ambers of anger rose high again, and I grabbed her hair in my fist, pulling her to meet my erect member. “Suck it up, little whore.” I allowed her to do as she pleased for a little while, albeit keeping my grip on her hair, relishing in the feeling of her talented tongue and warm mouth. But the feeling of despair was still threatening to cut me open, and before long I pulled her away by her hair.

“Open your mouth,” I barked. “Leave it open. I’m gonna fuck your face.” She didn’t fight as I pulled her on my dick until her lips were touching my navel, my cock hitting the back of her throat.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It took every bit of concentration I had to control my urge to gag around his cock, but I knew by the way he looked down at me that it was a battle I was destined to fail. He wanted me to hurt. He needed to see the tears in my eyes as he constricted my need for air, and I could allow him this release.

Despite our break-up, I still trusted him with my life.

So I relaxed against him, allowing him to do as he wished as he guided my movements through his grip in my hair, and I found some new appreciation by the way I was a sputtering, whiny mess, tears and spit running on my face just like he wished to see.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Take it. Take this fucking cock like the greedy little whore you are for me.” I couldn’t even find it in myself to care about the degrading nature of his comments, not when they were making me so wet I could feel it dripping down my thighs.

We’d never fucked like this before, but god, were we missing out. I was so aroused by our activities that I couldn’t wait anymore, I needed another release soon. So one of my hands ended up between my legs, while the other rested on one of his thighs, just for support.

At first, he was so wrapped up in the pleasure I was giving him that he didn’t even notice, but when I moaned around his cock after a particular tug in my hair that made my finger slip inside of myself, he opened his eyes to look down at me, finding me halfway through an orgasm already.

“You’re such a cockslut, aren’t you? Already gave you an orgasm, but the second my cock is in your mouth, you need another one.” I obviously couldn’t answer, but he didn’t really want a response, from the way he pulled his dick from between my lips with a pop before pulling me up by my hair and dragging me to bed.

“You’re not gonna cum if it’s not me giving you the pleasure, sweetheart.” It was the first time in the night he called me by one of the pet names he used when we were still dating, and even if the tone was still slightly colder and bossier than I was used to, I felt myself melting at the memories that it brought me, leaving me putty in his hands.

He was then free to easily manipulate my body how he saw fit, which was on my hands and knees, my head pushed down against the hotel’s mattress. “Fuck, I missed this ass,” he commented just before slapping me hard, making me yelp. The sound must have entertained him because he did it again and again until I was shaking from the ardor and dripping down on the bed from arousal.

And then he pushed into me, releasing one of those breathless little moans that I loved to hear and that I’d missed so much, and it felt like I’d blacked out for a second. Having him inside of me was everything I had been dreaming of for the last couple of weeks, and now that I was struggling to accept his thickness, it felt like the only thing in my mind was Tom, how Tom’s hands felt as he rubbed them all over my back before wrapping my hair around them again, the feeling of his thighs hitting the back of mine, the sound of his balls slapping my clit with each powerful thrust he gave.

It was enough to have screaming out his name with zero regards for the other people on this hotel floor. “Fuck yes, baby, let them know who’s fucking you this good.” There was no way anyone staying close to us didn’t know, and I could only pray none of our co-stars would be around to tease us about it.

Suddenly, just when I was about to reach that peak again, he pulled out, easily manhandling me onto my bed as he held my ankles spread out for me. I moaned out loud when I felt him spit on my pussy before he pushed into me again, immediately getting back into the same rhythm as before.

“I want to see your face when you cum again,” he whispered hotly in my ear, making me whimper as I pulled him closer to me, my sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest. It didn’t take me long to get back to the same state as before, and the second he sucked on my earlobe, I came all around him, hearing him curse against my ear.

When I opened my eyes after calming down again, I realized he’d been waiting for me, predatory gaze glued on mine as he found a way to pound me even harder against the mattress, so roughly bumping against my uterus that it almost hurt.

“I’m gonna cum,” he suddenly announced, still looking deep into my eyes, and all of a sudden, I was shaken awake from my reverie by the realization that we’d been fucking raw this entire time. But before I could even come up with something to say about it, he beat me to it, adding, “I’m gonna cum inside of you. I’ll fuck a baby into you. This way you won’t be able to walk out on me ever again.”

Just as he oh-so-casually mentioned his plans for our future, I felt him spill into me for the first time, the warm feeling eliciting another small orgasm that left me trembling in his hands as he continued to softly thrust into me, like he didn’t want to leave and let any of his cum escape my pussy.

“I mean it,” he randomly interrupted my attempt to gather my breath, still panting himself, still very much nested inside of me. When I raised an eyebrow in question, he simply shook his head before leaning down to drop his body weight over mine, just like I’d been dreaming about. “I want you forever. I’m not letting you go again. Baby or no baby.”

Snorting, I hugged him to me, relishing on the smell of his cologne as I hid my face in the crook of his neck. “We still have a lot to talk about, Tom… but it’s safe to say that I feel the same way.”

#tom holland #tom holland smut #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #my fics #tom holland reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland insert fanfiction

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

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Darkness before Dawn XVII: Dawn

Summary: Geralt returns to you and admits that he does love you. But when the dawn comes after a long dark time for you, you realize that it seems you can’t have the man you love and your family’s kingdom at the same time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of murder, mentions of hauntings, itty bitty smut, strong language, magical themes, it’s a bit longer than what I normally write

Word Count: 3,805

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

No portal opened for Geralt. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. Eventually, he decided to figure out where the hell he is and make the journey back to Eronia and he didn’t care how long that would take. All he cares about is finding out if he managed to save you and if he broke the curse.

It will take almost a week on horseback to get back to Eronia, Geralt figures out. A week to find out if he failed or succeeded. But, he thought, if he hadn’t heard from Ida in some way it could only mean that something’s happening in the castle. They must be occupied with something else. Something bad most likely. Geralt only hopes that it doesn’t have to do with you.

There are only so many times where he has failed at a job. And though he knows that he can’t save everyone, there’s still a tinge of guilt and disappointment when that happens. And when it comes to someone whom he has grown close to, someone he’s grown fond of, maybe even come to have love.

Yes, he’ll admit it. He’s fallen in love with you.

His affections go deeper than they can ever go with Yennefer and he’ll admit that to Jaskier, Ida, your father. He’ll admit that to you. If he ever sees you again.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s traveling back to you. It gives him time to think things through. There’s no doubt that things are complicated. You’re the heir to a throne and he’s a Witcher. There’s a good chance Dominic won’t approve of the match and, as Uza said, his sterile nature will prevent you from producing an heir and your father’s line will end. Not to mention what people will say.

Witchers aren’t normally seen in good light and no relationship can change that. People will talk bad about him - not that he’s used to it - and about you. That’s something he can’t bear to think of. It’s something you don’t deserve. Not after everything you’ve been through now.

He barely gets his thoughts together when the castle appears in the distance. A week has passed and he hasn’t thought of what he will, or should, do.

Getting into the city, Geralt sees that things are different than before he left. There seems to be an almost somber atmosphere. People walk around silently, some with sorrow on their faces as they filter out of the temple. Others walk in with flowers in their hands. Geralt knows these are the signs of death from someone in the royal family, especially when he notes the missing flag from the castle.

His mind goes what he hoped for a week won’t be true and it urges him to speed towards the castle.

People marvel at his appearance and he hears them saying “There goes the Witcher.” “No doubt he’s here to receive his payment.” Geralt doesn’t pay attention to their words. He just has to know if his suspicions are true or not.

The guards don’t even stop him from entering the castle. They just stare at him as he passes, pushing the door open so he can walk into the throne room. “It is what she wants and I am instructing you to see it carried out,” Dominic orders a man walking beside him as they cross the hall.

Upon seeing Geralt, Dominic stops in his tracks and turns to face the Witcher that walks towards him. The man takes this as his time to leave and he does so quickly with a quick bow of his head to the King.

“Geralt of Rivia. I did not think you would return.” Dominic almost sounds disappointed, something that confuses Geralt for a moment as he comes to stand in front of the King. “No doubt you have come to collect the coin I promised you.”

“No,” Geralt quickly says causing Dominic to frown. “I’ve come to see if (Y/n)- the Princess is alright.”

Dominic nods his head, his bottom jaw tensing as he turns his gaze across the room. “She’s in the gardens.” Those words make a wave of relief wash over Geralt and he breathes out a silent sigh as Dominic raises his hand to point him in the right direction. “You’re free to see her, if you wish,” he states, giving the Witcher a reassuring nod.

Geralt turns after nodding thanks in return. You’re alive and that’s all that he needed to know. Hearing that you’re out of your room only means that you’re doing well. Well enough to move around. When he sees you, he can’t stop the smile growing on his face.

You’re painting, standing by yourself, seemingly stronger than ever. And laughing at the scene in front of you. Jaskier is in a pose with his lute, pretending to serenade Charlotte and making jokes that are the cause of your laughter and your sister’s. You’re in a better state than he thought you would be.

Jaskier catches Geralt standing in the distance and drops his foot off the bench as he smiles brightly. “Geralt! It’s about time you returned!” Your head snaps over your shoulder at those words and you slowly place your paintbrush down. “I want to hear every detail about how you saved the Princess of Eronia from the claws of death.”

“Jaskier,” Charlotte hisses, grabbing his arm before he can walk towards Geralt and pulls him back. “You can interrogate him later. Give him time with (Y/n), hm?” she suggests, nodding to you as you slowly start to walk forward.

Seeing how invested you and Geralt are in each other, not really paying attention to anything else around you, Jaskier chuckles as he turns to walk away with Charlotte.

Geralt walks forward, intending on meeting you halfway. His stare never leaves your face and he can’t stop himself from standing close to you. So close, all he has to do is lean down to close the space between you two so he can kiss you. “You came back,” you whisper, making him smile.

“I needed to know if you were alright,” he says in a low voice, his hand reaching out to take yours resting at your side so he can entwine his fingers with yours.

You chuckle, drop your gaze to his hand and bite your lower lip. “I’m sorry we didn’t open a portal-”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters,” he whispers and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“Kurst killed my mother and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” Geralt drops your hand and cups your face in his hands.

Geralt doesn’t feel sorrow for your mother’s death. Not after what she offered him to do. Your mother was a horrid person and she got what was coming to her, he thinks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You nod lightly, bring your arms up to wrap around his neck. “I’m glad you came back,” you whisper before he leans forward to press his lips to yours.

Knowing that Jaskier and Charlotte might be watching, you use magic to grow a wall of shrubs to block their view and to give you and Geralt some privacy as he deepens the kiss. This is why you came back, why you decided not to stay in the spirit realm. You could never replicate this kiss, this moment. Nothing will ever compare to this, or the next time he’ll kiss you. Being in his arms, under his touch is worth more than a thousand lifetimes.

You hope it lasts. Knowing Witcher’s nature, they’ll move on to the next job as soon as their current one is done. You hope that Geralt doesn’t do this. You want him to stay in Eronia. With you. You will fight anyone who opposes it because you don’t think you’ll love as you love Geralt.

If he stays, not sure what he will do. Perhaps he can become your bodyguard. But what a scandal it would be for a Princess to have her lover as her bodyguard. You’re sure you can find a way around this mess once you are queen. Or perhaps, even before then. Surely you can talk to your father about it and hope he will listen to you.

But, Geralt has other ideas. It’s in your kiss that all that thinking he has done over the week that he finds his answer to what he wants to do. And he pulls back, keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes out a deep sigh. “We need to talk.”

You were afraid he would say that. Still, you know that it has to be done. You’ve learned that almost everything can be solved if you just discuss it. Since you’ve gotten your strength back, you’ve continued learning how to be a Queen and how to rule a kingdom. You’ve learned a lot, but learning about politics will never be as fun as learning new magic spells and conjuring things from thin air.

“Come with me,” you whisper, leading him out of the gardens and back into the castle.

He follows as close behind you as he can while avoiding stares from others. He knows the path you’re leading him through goes to your chambers because he’s walked it many times before. And it will always feel great knowing that it’s just you and him, that no one can suddenly disturb you two when you close the door behind you.

He watches you as you walk towards him, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your gaze on your folded hands. He knows that you have a feeling about what he wants to talk about when you don’t look up at him after a while. “We knew this was going to happen-”

“Why does it?” you cut him off, lifting your gaze up to him as letting your hand unfold from each other. “Why can’t you stay?”

Geralt shakes his head, his jaw tensing as he turns his head to look away from you. “You know why.” He knows you’re not stupid. You know why he can’t stay.

You take a small step forward, reach out to turn his face back to you, make his gaze lock with yours as you rest your hand on his chest. “Tell me anyway,” you challenge, wondering if you can use your skills of persuasion and debate on him to try and get him to stay. But you also have a feeling that his stubbornness will prevail.

“If I stay, it could ruin your family’s name.”

That doesn’t sound like his words. It makes you frown and take a small step back, pulling away from him as you stare with a slightly open mouth. “What did my mother say to you?” you ask, feeling that she must have something to do with this. Of all people, you didn’t think that Geralt would care about reputation. Why else would he have kissed you in the first place if he wanted to protect what people think of you and your family? No, reputation was your mother’s thing and you know how her words could ensnare someone’s mind and make them doubt...everything. She must have gotten to Geralt.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does because you need to know that she was wrong. Whatever she said to you was wrong and it shouldn’t affect you because she’s dead and I’ve made sure that her body will be burnt to destroy her spirit because I know how powerful her words can be, Geralt,” you ramble, stepping farther and farther away from him as you shake your head in disbelief.

You thought that with your mother now dead, you wouldn’t have to worry about her affecting your life anymore. You can’t believe that this is happening. Everything seemed to be going well and now she’s trying to take the one thing you want so much away from you. You see her in your dreams, laughing and mocking you, saying that you can’t even get rid of her now that she is dead. She tells you that she will never leave you. And in fear, you’ve ordered that her body be burned instead of buried because you know that fire kills the spirit too. Even though your curse is lifted and you shouldn’t be able to see ghosts anymore, the fear will never leave you.

Geralt, seeing you retreating from him, takes a step forward and reaches out to take your hand. “Do you love me?” you ask, stepping out of his reach again as his head snaps you to you.

“I do love you,” he whispers, and his heart almost beats again within the long silence between slow beats. He’s had a week to think about, spend a few nights thinking about it and he doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he says it.

You take a step closer, drop the concerned look on your face and reach up to touch the side of his face. Your fingers touch the bottom of the scar on his temple as you gaze into his golden eyes. “I would fight for us because I love you too. I would fight for people to accept you more than I would fight for them to accept me, someone with magic prowess, being on the throne because I love you too.”

Word has gotten out about Charlotte’s parentage and how you are next in line for the throne of Eronia now but also that you have taken after your mage Aunt. Long story short, many Kings and queens and Sorcerers aren’t sure whether it is a good idea or not. They’re afraid you could become too powerful as a ruler and a mage.

Geralt smiles down at you, his head leaning into your touch as he steps closer to you to rest his hand on your hips. Your words won’t change his mind, but he won’t tell you that. It’s best to make you believe you have won this fight.

He touches his nose to yours, touches your lips with his lightly as his hands run up your sides. You breathe out a shaky sigh, your body trembling at his touch as his hands stop at the laces on the back of your dress. Then, as he pulls on laces, he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that makes your eyes fall shut.

You feel your dress become loose around your shoulders as he starts to walk backward towards your bed. At the foot of your bed, he turns around so your back faces the bed. His hands travel up your arms so he can take your face in his hands. His kiss grows deeper, your hands drop to start unbuckling his armor. It’s a lot to go through, but it’s not long before you get to the shirt he wears underneath the armor that now lies on the floor with his iron sword.

Geralt moves the hair away from your neck as he breaks the kiss, tilts his head to kiss along your jaw and then down your neck as you let your dress fall to the ground. Then, he runs his fingers down your naked arms making goosebumps appear and a sigh falls from your lips. He lowers you to the bed, hovering above you as his lips return to yours.

Your hands fall on his back, pull his shirt up out from being tucked in his pants. And when you touch his skin and trace his scars, he groans against your lips and settles between your legs when he nudges at them with his knee.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to sit up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Instead of kissing your lips again, he drops his head in the bend of your neck and kisses down your body. You drop your head against the bed, stare up at the ceiling with your heart hammering in your chest as Geralt’s lips move down the valley between your breasts. “Geralt,” you mutter, your fingers weaving through his hair as you press your body against his.

You run your hands over his broad shoulders and down his back when he comes back up to kiss your neck, his hand grabbing the back of your thigh and making your leg bend next to him. Pushing his trousers pasted his hips, he moans against your skin. You feel his hardness poking against your thigh and it makes you shake in excitement.

“I’ll always love you,” Geralt whispers in your ear, making your heart swell and a smile grows on your face. As his lips return to yours, he rolls his hips against yours and slowly pushes his cock into you, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

And with the sun starting to set outside, the golden light filtering into the room makes the moment between you and Geralt all the more special to you.

Geralt watches the sun dawn, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his shoulder. You’re fast asleep, your naked body pressing against his and the sheet covering your lower body as well as his. He’s glad that no one was looking for you last night because it would have ruined the moment. The moment that he won’t forget and he’s sure you won’t either. It was tender and passionate at the same time. And when you let the moment take you over, you let everything go and it turned out to be the best night he’s had in a long time.

Turning his head down to you, he takes in a deep breath and slowly leans down to gently kiss the top of your head. As you moan and shift in your spot, Geralt takes that chance to pull his arm out from under you and shift to the edge of the bed. He stares at his armor and clothes lying in a pile on the ground for a moment before looking back at you.

He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but it’s what he decided to do. He wishes he could stay with you, but he has other things to do. He can’t stay in Eronia.

Slowly and silently, he stands from the bed and starts to put his clothes back on. He leaves his armor off, not wanting to risk waking you up with the cluttering noise. Then he’ll have to explain everything and he can’t see you heartbroken.

Before he leaves your room with his armor in hand, he looks back at you one last time, glad to see that peaceful look on your face as you breathe shallow breaths. He’s glad he’ll have this image in his mind on his travels.

He doesn’t even think of collecting his fee from the King. He doesn’t care about that anymore. It’s best if he gets out of Eronia and put it behind him. Most of the castle is still asleep, so it surprises him to see Ida standing beside Roach when he comes to the stables. “I knew you’d be here,” she says, gently petting Roach’s neck as she smiles at Geralt. “Which is why I must ask; Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” he grumbles, walking past her and placing his armor on a post so he can get his saddle.

Ida turns around to face him, folds her hands in front of her and steps forward. “And you don’t want to say goodbye to her?” she asks, earning a hard glare from him and she raises her hands in defeat. “Alright, I won’t nag. I’m just saying that things could go a lot smoother if you were honest to her and told her the truth.” Geralt looks away from her as he places the saddle on Roach’s back and starts buckling and tightening the straps. “You know, there is a legend that Witchers only truly love one person in their life,” she mentions, taking a small step towards him when he freezes at her words. “You don’t want to lose something like that if it’s true, do you, Geralt?”

He sighs, drops his head for a moment before he looks at Ida. “No, I don’t,” he murmurs, pulling the last strap tight and then turning around to pick up his armor again.

Nodding her head, Ida glances down at her hand as she conjures a small, white flower which she hands to the Witcher. “I hope that this will help you find what you’re looking for,” she softly says, her words making Geralt’s eyes snap up from the flower to look at her in surprise. “And you do deserve this too.” She hands him a bulging pouch of coins. His payment.

Geralt takes both items even though he’s hesitant about the pouch. Still, you can’t buy food without money. “Look after her, Ida,” he grunts as he put the pouch and the flower in a satchel before taking the reins on Roach to lead her out.

He knows he didn’t have to tell her that. He knows that you’ll be in good hands without him.

A knock on the door makes your jolt awake with a skip in your heartbeat and before you can tell whoever it is to wait, the door swings open. You grip the sheets close to your body and quickly look down next to you where you expert Geralt to be. And your heart falls in your stomach when you don’t see him.

“Gods, I knew you had a fun night,” Charlotte playfully teases when she sees the state you’re in but you don’t pay attention to her words.

Your eyes start to search the room, only to find Geralt’s things gone along with him. It’s like he wasn’t even there. Your head drops and you bite your lower lip when you feel tears starting to surface. Charlotte notices your sadness. “What happened?” she softly whispers, sitting down next to you and places a hand on your covered knee.

Shaking your head, you look up at her with a forced smile on your face. “He left,” you say, your voice breaking as a sob breaks through your throat. Your hand shoots to your mouth as Charlotte pulls you in for a strong hug.

“And he didn’t say goodbye?” she asks, gently stroking your back as you lean against her shoulder, sobbing.

You don’t answer. You don’t say that he did or that he didn’t say goodbye because you guess that last night was his way of doing just that and you didn’t even realize it.

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#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #the witcher geralt #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #Geralt #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x princess reader #the witcher #the witcher x read #witcher fanfiction #Witcher #darkness before dawn

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the-pontiac-bandit · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still answering tortall prompts, how about Raoul + family?

wow why NOT write 2000 words of blatant, shameless fluff about families you make for yourself??? inspired by this quote from tammy: “[Raoul and Buri] have glorious sex under trees, in tents, in lakes…. In carriages. I think at some point they’ll probably adopt. By the time they’re attached Buri’s getting a little old to have any of her own. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of orphans around.”

As Raoul stretched out, trying to make himself comfortable in his too-hard, too-small desk chair, he savored the warm feeling filling his chest and threatening to spill out and take physical form in front of him. In the midst of the most head-spinning, headache-inducing, sleep-sapping, joy-filled week he’d ever experienced, he’d had precious little time to slow down and simply exist within his new reality. He thought to close his eyes, the better to feel everything, but they only stayed shut for a moment before they forced themselves back open. He couldn’t stop looking at the scene in front of him for long.

Buri lounged cross-legged on their bed, far more relaxed than he had been at any point this week. Kel sat next to her, her back straight and her long legs carefully hanging off one side so as not to get dust from the practice courts on their bedding. Both had just returned from a full morning of training, sweaty despite a change of clothes and coated in dust despite a thorough washing, courtesy of a long, hot summer that had refused to give them rain.

Between them was the baby.

His son, he reminded himself. He thought the words a few extra times, even mouthing them once, as he had a thousand times in the last five days, as if forming them on his lips might make them feel more real.

None of this felt real to him yet. He supposed most people had nine months to get used to the idea before seven pounds of screaming chaos turned their lives upside down. He’d had exactly fifty-three days—he’d counted on Tuesday—so he supposed he still had some catching up to do. His mind was still reeling from the conversation that had led them here, and he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever catch up.

He’d been sitting in this chair and pretending to read reports while mostly thinking about his right knee, which had been bothering him despite Duke Baird’s best efforts. He wasn’t sure why he remembered so specifically, since his days were nearly as certain to contain aches and bruises as they were to contain a sunrise. Buri had returned from a meeting with Thayet and Onua, although really, the word meeting conferred far too much dignity on what was more likely a combination of trick riding and palace gossip. They’d settled into the evening routine they’d shared for nearly a decade, working in comfortable silence with candles lit between them.

“Do you want children?” she’d asked, breaking the quiet spell of paperwork that gripped their nights.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he’d replied with a snort.

She’d thrown a pillow at him. He had caught it and thrown it back without even looking up from the thick stack of papers in his lap, with a rude hand gesture following behind.

“You know what I meant. Did you want children? Before?”

Something in her voice had shifted. He’d finally looked up to find her eyes already trained on him. Her face had been so unexpectedly earnest that he’d actually taken a pause, had slowed the speed of their consistently paced banter, to think.

“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. There were friends, and then there was drinking, and then there was the Own, and then there was you,” he’d told her with a shrug. “I do like children, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

She’d chewed on her lip for a moment. He remembered being surprised by that. After nearly thirty years of friendship, she rarely took the time to think before she spoke with him anymore.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want children?”

“And we’re back to the start,” he’d said with a grin.

“I spat it out. Now you answer it.”

“Hypothetically, sure, I’d enjoy a child. Now can I ask why you’re asking at all?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she’d started. She’d paused for a moment, holding her breath as though she was trying to decide whether she should speak at all. And then she’d let it all spill out at once. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to have one. A child, I mean.”

She’d held up a hand and made a face before Raoul could even begin to formulate a joke about her monthlies or her aching hips or what they might do to make that happen. “Not like that. Thayet was telling us today about homes they’re opening in Corus, for children without parents. We were thinking about the children we traveled with back in Sarain, when Alanna found us all those years ago. Gods, it was terrifying, having Thayet and an infant to protect, especially when Thayet was ready to throw her life away for the infant. And I started thinking—we have money, and safety, and love, and there are all these children who have none of those things, and—”

She’d been speaking faster and faster, but she’d cut herself off abruptly at the look on Raoul’s face. “Never mind, you can forget—”

Raoul had smiled back at her, straightening up in his chair and marking his spot in the report on his lap before putting it aside. “So you want a child.”

The weeks that followed had been ones filled with paperwork and inquiries at the palace records about the process of appointing a common-born heir to a noble house and at the magistrate’s about drawing up paperwork for adoption. There had been careful planning and hushed discussions with only their closest friends about the best way to proceed. Buri had insisted on an older child, maybe eight or nine, saying that the few diapers she’d changed on the road to Rachia were enough for a lifetime.

Instead, five days ago, Buri had entered their rooms carrying a squalling mess of blankets with an air of forced nonchalance that had told him immediately what she’d done. Instead of clarifying, or teasing her, or asking if it was the smallest eight-year-old he’d ever seen, he’d simply held his arms out. While Buri had supplied endless explanations about Thayet ambushing her with a baby, he’d stared at the squirming mess of baby in his lap, blankets already coming undone, absolutely entranced.

“He’s tiny,” he’d commented. His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else’s body. The baby was only just too large for him to hold in one hand, although he’d never try to prove it. The fragility of the life sitting in his lap was overwhelming.

“His mother died yesterday. Childbed fever, caught too late to help. The priestesses at the Goddess’ Temple were worried he might need more than the homes could give.”

Raoul had nodded, only half listening. The baby’s eyes were screwed shut while he wailed. His fine hair was dark, his skin tanned like that of the Bazhir babies Raoul had seen in his year in the Great Southern Desert. One of the baby’s hands had broken free of its blanket. It had waved in the air, keeping pace with his cries, which were far louder than he’d have believed such a tiny body could produce. He’d intercepted the hand with one finger and then watched in wonder as the baby had grasped it.

“Does he have a name?”

“Pathom,” she’d answered definitively, before belatedly remembering that names were the sort of thing parents might choose together. “That is, if—”

“Pathom of Goldenlake,” he’d cut her off with a smile.

The days that followed had been a blur. Thayet had found a wet-nurse and supplied an endless stream of goods that they’d have never known a baby required. Alanna had ridden in from Pirate’s Swoop at full speed to pronounce in a gruff voice that the infant was in perfect health. Gary had gifted them a bassinet and more blankets than any human child could possibly need. Dom had found a way to convert a standard-issue burnoose into an excellent baby sling, while Evin had given them a congratulatory note from George, who complained that Alanna had left before he could finish writing, and a cheerful promise that he’d never touch a soiled diaper. Onua had given them a set of unimaginably soft stuffed ponies, perfect replicas of the horses that roamed the highlands of Sarain where she and Buri had learned to ride.

Kel, away on business with Second Company at the Gallan border, had to wait almost a full week to learn she had a new godsson. He’d met the company when they’d arrived back at the palace long past dark the night before. They’d groomed Hoshi and Sparrow together while he thanked the gods for perhaps the hundredth time that her “testy pony” had finally found his way out of the Own stables and into a pleasant retirement.

Finally, when the last of the men had trudged towards the barracks and a well-earned nights’ sleep, she’d turned to him.

“Well?”

“There’s someone important I want you to meet,” he’d said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a smile that was equal parts nervous and eager.

“Sir, I’ve already met your wife.”

Raoul had let out a hearty chuckle. “But you haven’t met my son.”

Kel had frozen. Her face fell back into perfect stillness, the way it did when her mind was working its fastest.

After a second that felt like an eternity, she replied, “Sir, I saw Buri five weeks ago. If you’re telling me you’ve managed to grow a baby since then—”

“We didn’t, but someone else did. We adopted him from the Temple after his mother died in childbirth.”

Understanding flashed in Kel’s eyes while her face broke into a rare broad grin. She’d wrapped her arms around him in a fast, tight hug accompanied by enthusiastic congratulations that had gone suddenly silent in surprise when he’d added, a wicked glint in his eyes, “You really should come by tomorrow to meet your godsson.”

Buri had intercepted Kel on the practice courts the following morning with the dual goals of keeping her own skills sharp and ensuring that Kel would not be too polite to visit. And so now, he watched as Kel bounced his son with the brisk certainty of someone who had held a baby a thousand times. He could hear her cooing quietly at Pathom, softening her consonants while she told him all about forest campaigns in hill country. He knew he should ask her to speak up—if she was going to give her report verbally, she could at least give it at a volume he could hear—but he found he wasn’t particularly interested in the intricacies of the Second’s bowstring supplies. Buri made eye contact with him behind Kel’s back, laughter in her eyes. Buri could laugh if she wanted, but he was taking notes on Kel’s tactics. He would have sworn this was the quietest he’d heard his son in the entirety of his hundred-and-twenty-odd hours in the palace.

As his son stared wide-eyed at his former squire, Raoul was reminded of a comment he’d heard as they’d left Turomot’s offices the other day with paperwork making Pathom officially their own. “Well, that feckless Goldenlake dolt’s managed to start a family, even if it was too late to do the thing properly,” the Lord of Genlith had muttered at their backs as they’d left. Buri had elbowed him and whispered a quick “Feckless? I’ll show him feckless,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Before she’d even finished the thought, her eyes were back on Pathom, squirming against her chest in the burnoose that bound him to her.

And now, Raoul watched his son, passed between his wife and the woman who had been like his daughter long before any papers said he was a father. Stuffed Saren ponies lined the shelf above an intricately carved bassinet filled with beautifully embroidered blankets. A protection charm had been pulled from Alanna’s packs to hang at the head, while twin leather circles bearing the insignias of the Riders and the Own, no doubt carefully cut by mischievous commanders from the saddle packs of some unprepared trainees, was secured carefully at the foot. Raoul had to smile for a moment at Genlith’s ignorance—he’d begun his family right on time.

#carrie answers #my writing #anonymous #raoul of goldenlake and malorie's peak #raoul of goldenlake #buriram tourakom #tortall #tamora pierce #protector of the small #keladry of mindelan #okay we've got all the found family shit in here #the friends? check #the surrogate daughter? check #adoption? check #also who said a baby can't have three godsmothers definitely not buri and raoul #also on ao3

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 10 ~The Art of Non-Communication

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in The Mediation

"Three million pounds for a house!" Jenny broke through his reflection. "Doesn't it make ye wonder what else she inherited?"

Jamie looked at the paper again. That's what the house is worth? Ach, Christ! Even the Oxford gossip found its way to Broch Mordha. He knew Claire would be mortified if the news of her assets became everyone's favourite topic of conversation.

Folding the note, he handed it back to his sister. He shook his head at his sister. "Not a word about this to any of yer mates!" he warned her. "Or else ..."

Jenny's eyes widened. "What do ye take me for?"

"A babble merchant," he ribbed, unsmiling. "Now, let me be."

"Ye're no' angry at me still, are ye?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm just exhausted."

"Can I do anything for ye?"

He puffed out a breath. Jenny was looking at him earnestly, and he knew she only wanted to reach out. "Aye, in fact, ye can. Ye can arrange that appointment with the therapist for me."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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Jamie was removed from the noise of Lallybroch's homely routine when he stepped inside the shower that barely allotted for his breadth and height. He stroked the erection he'd been sporting since he'd woken up from his dreams of Claire, his elbow occasionally hitting the wall. If he kept this pace up, there would be some damaged tiles to answer for by the time he finally climaxed.

Creamy pale skin and amber eyes seeped through his mind, and he stifled a groan, the throbbing flesh in his hand swelling to the point of anguish. It was the reason he'd escaped to the shower when his dad had woken him, the image of Claire still vivid and the need to spill urgent. But the act of pleasuring himself was tainted with guilt. It didn't feel right using the memory of them together to find completion when he'd left her on her own. Not only did it make him a sick lecherous human being, but his action defied all reason and logic.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't be depriving themselves if they had what he and Claire had, but instead, here he was, on self-imposed retreat, his hungry thoughts reliving that time she'd been on her knees taking his entire length in her sweet, sweet mouth. Depravity kicked in, and his body responded to the memory in a fast, fluid rush. Every moral compass he'd had, went from dried cement to loose sand, and nothing could contain the rampant desire to relieve the pressure between his legs.

He propped his left hand on the wet wall and quickened the pace of his strokes, the tight fist travelling from the base of his hardness to the engorged tip.

"Christ," he gritted, hoping he could finish without the repercussion of self-loathing and feeling like an unredeemable bastard.

Ye left her! In tears!

It's for her own good. I'm taking steps to make myself better ...for her.

What if she gets sick and tired of waiting for ye to sort out yer issues?

No, no ...she understands.

Ye havenae called her.

I'll see her after the therapy, for fuck sake.

Guilt made him want to dim the image of Claire sucking him, but the heavy sack hung between his thighs wouldn't be wheedled into emptying without envisioning her.

He was so close. He replayed Claire's most recent voice message in his head, her voice husky and yearning. She must have been in bed wearing nothing but his shirt. I love you, Jamie. I wish I could hold you right now and ease your pain.

"Ah, fuck!" Jamie groaned as convulsion racked his body. "Christ, Sassenach." His seed spurted from his cock in what felt like an endless surge of the tide. Back and forth until he was compelled to release his flesh to brace himself with both hands on the tiled surface while the remnant of his release washed down onto the shower floor.

The water had turned tepid by the time reality came streaming back in. Steeling himself, Jamie waited for the chitter-chatter in his head to start reprimanding, telling him what a sick bastard he was, but nothing came. It was quiet. Notably quiet, in fact, and the prolonged silence was too unusual for comfort and almost deafening. The voices had been his life long companion, and it seemed like someone had muted the noises. The only sound he heard was the sound of his breathing and the shower spray hitting the surfaces.

He almost jumped at the loud rapping on the door. "Jamie! Ye're gonnae be late for yer therapy appointment," Willie called out, impatience lacing his voice.

He blew out a breath. "Two minutes!" he shouted. Damn it!

"Two minutes," Willie repeated, and he strode off, the sound of his heavy footsteps making creaking sounds on the wooden floor.

Therapy! He wasn't looking forward to it, but if it would mean bringing him closer to living a normal life with Claire, he'd take his chances. He had his future waiting for him in his cottage, and God knew what was going through her mind with his prolonged absence. There's a possibility she could decide right there, and then, she'd had enough, and he could be returning to an empty home. Fuck that! No' gonnae happen.

Wrenching a curse from the depths of his soul, he grabbed a towel and dried himself in record time. No more messing about. It was time to regain back the rein to his life. After his therapy, he was returning back to his Sassenach.

..........

Jamie hadn't replied to Claire's multiple voice messages, so she'd stopped sending them, thinking he needed a break. If it hadn't been for Willie checking up on her, Rollo needing to be walked and her own work keeping her busy, she would have gone out of her mind.

She found solace in knowing he was safe with his family and sorting out his issues and tried not to dwell on the theory that she might be the reason for his worsening condition; otherwise, it would mean giving up on them and walking out of his life for his own good. They'd both had a traumatic start to childhood. If anything, their shared experience should bring them together ...well, at least she was hoping that was the case.

As long as she was busy, she was absolutely fine. But it hurt being apart from Jamie. The minute she unwinded from her daytime activities, the feeling of abandonment crept in, and she felt lost and empty. An all-consuming gloom would lurk, overwhelming her, and tears would start to fall. It had been only two days since Jamie left, but she was already fearing she'd return to London without seeing him again. It's just not fair. It was as if the universe was conspiring to keep them apart, and if that was the case, they'd never really had a chance from the start. Such thoughts would lead to a part of her wishing they'd never met because it was like being shown what happiness with someone you love could be, only to be yanked back out of reach.

She glanced out the kitchen window and realised it had begun to rain, the grey skies echoing her sombre mood. Frustrated, she mentally shook herself. There were a lot of things to do, and her uncle would be arriving in a couple of days. She hadn't mentioned anything to him about what had happened with Jamie, but that was a worry she'd have to deal with later. Because of all days, Tom Christie had called earlier, arranging to meet with her this afternoon to further discuss his book's publication. She hadn't anticipated meeting up with him for another week or more. Maybe it was a good thing he'd decided to show up. It would certainly be a much-needed distraction from the growing worries she had of Jamie. But first, she needed to book a bed and breakfast room in the village centre, a request her uncle had explicitly stressed as he didn't want to stay in Jamie's cottage to watch them canoodle, as he'd gruffly pointed out. But Claire highly doubted there would be any danger of his uncle witnessing that anytime soon.

Grabbing her coat and bag, she headed out. She was just stepping across the threshold when she caught sight of Jamie's sister walking towards her. What is she doing here? The last time she'd seen Jenny was when they were first introduced, and back then, she hadn't failed to notice the lukewarm reception. She'd tried her best to dismiss it as overly protective sibling behaviour. But something had been niggling in her mind lately ever since Willie mentioned Jenny's meddling with Jamie's love life.

Bracing herself, she forced a smile. "Hi, I'm just on my way out. Does Jamie need some fresh shirts?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I can quickly grab some if that's what you came here for."

There was an awkward silence. "I ...ah, I'm here to see ye." Jenny held up a plastic container. "Oh, and ma made these ... it's rhubarb pie. And she's asking after ye."

"Oh, that's thoughtful. How are ..."

"Do ye have a moment?" Jenny interrupted out of the blue.

Claire paused. Though feeling like she was in this weird bubble filled with fog and not in the mood for small talk or niceties, she stepped back and waved Jamie's sister in. "Sure. I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

Jenny nodded gratefully and stepped inside the cottage. Claire watched her cross the room to place the rhubarb pie and her shoulder bag on the dining table. She started to wring her hands, possibly because she'd realised Claire wasn't going to initiate the talk.

"Jamie is taking steps to get better," Jenny began, facing her.

"I know."

"Of course, you do."

Claire tamped down the urge to roll her eyes. "From what Jamie's told me, that's what he's been doing all his life, hasn't he?"

"Yes, that's true."

She sighed, impatience beginning to creep in. "Jenny, why are you really here? Please let's not pretend that you like me. You practically ignored me when we first met, and you've made no attempt whatsoever to get to know me. I am not expecting us to be the best of mates just because I'm with Jamie, but I do expect manners. So, I am asking very kindly if there's a reason for you taking over my precious time, please spit it out."

Jenny's eyebrows hit her hairline. "I ...uh ...I came because I wanted to see you. To check if ye're alright."

"Willie's been doing that but thank you anyway." She had no time for pussyfooting around. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she made a move to leave. "Well, I need to get going. Please thank your mum for me for the pie. I'll have it later with coffee when I return. And regards to your da as well." She pulled the door open.

"Wait ..."

"Yes?"

Jenny let out a rickety inhale. "I'm sorry, okay? I came to apologise. You're right. I was downright rude." Her lips barely moved when she said the words. It was as if it's taking a lot out of her to admit to her faults. "I have no right to meddle in my brother's affairs, moreso make ye feel unwelcome when ye're the one Jamie wants to be with." Her shoulders lost most of their tension, but the lines of her body were still strained tight. "I was worried about my brother making trips to London, and ye ken the reason why. I thought by not acknowledging ye, ye would eventually go away for good. I ken it was wrong. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did."

"But making me go away wouldn't have made a difference to his condition. Jamie would have continued to have those panic attacks."

"I ken," Jenny shrugged. "It was a dumb move, and I feel stupid for it. I realise that now. I dinnae ken what I was thinking. I'm so sorry, Claire. Can we start all over again and be friends?"

Claire felt a spark of sympathy for Jenny. In that brief moment of admission, she'd kind of started to like the girl in front of her. Though she knew it would take a while before they could converse without feeling awkward, at least this was a start. Claire smiled genuinely for the first time. "Of course. I understand now why you felt the way you did." She glanced at her watch. "But in as much as I'd like to continue this bonding, I really need to go. I have a few errands to run. Shall we talk another time?"

"Oh aye, I completely forgot ye have someplace to go." She whipped around to grabbed her bag but knocked it to the floor instead, spilling its contents. "Ach, so clumsy of me," she muttered, getting onto her knees. "Ye go ahead, Claire. I have a spare key. I'll lock up once I'm done,

Claire immediately crouched down to help, grabbing feminine bits and bobs that were scattered on the rug. "Two pair of hands are always quicker getting the job done," she assured her.

"Aye, I guess so," Jenny mumbled as she skimmed the area with her eyes looking for anything she missed.

Claire scooped the loose pennies that had rolled off and slotted them into Jenny's bag. Then she picked up a slip of paper and was about to hand it to Jenny when she realised it was a newspaper clipping with her surname printed on it. Curious, Claire unfolded it and was surprised to see it was a small article from Oxford Mail about her family home, including a small line mentioning her as an heiress. Though she was aware of the article's existence, she was shocked to see it in Jenny's possession. What is Jenny doing with this?

Blood drained from her face when she recalled Willie's story about Jenny playing matchmaker between Geneva and Jamie. Didn't Willie say Geneva comes from a well-off family, Jenny's perfect solution to Lallybroch's financial problem? Claire skimmed the familiar article once more, the worth of her property jumping out of the paper: three million pounds. A sudden sharp pain slammed into her chest.

Claire held up the newspaper cutting to Jenny's face. "Why do you have this?" she whispered through numb lips.

Jenny's face was white as a sheet. "I ...it was given to me."

"Is this the reason why you're suddenly nice?"

"No!" Jenny licked her lips, thoughts racing behind her blue eyes. "I swear to God, I meant what I said earlier ...that I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with ..." She waved a hand towards the paper Claire was holding. "...that."

Claire scrambled to her feet. "You're sorry?" Her voice was high-pitched and unnatural, but she couldn't help it. There's a rumbling earthquake beginning to take place inside her. "When did you start feeling sorry, Jenny? After you read this?" She crumpled the piece of paper and threw it on the floor. "Did you really want to be my friend? Or was that all hogwash too?"

"Claire, please." Misery slashed across her face. "I realised my mistake when Jamie took off with his car the other night, and Willie spent hours looking for him. My parents, husband and I were up, and we were worried sick. My constant meddling has made him fled and taken him away from ye." She wrung her hands together. "I was a bloody idiot for thinking I was doing what's best for my brother when, in fact, I was making things worse. And Jamie's now miserable because he thinks it's all his fault when really, it's mine. Ye have to believe me when I say that piece of paper was given to me. I never sought it myself. It was handed to me."

"Good God, are you listening to yourself?" Her voice had been reduced to a whisper. All she could see was Jamie's guilt and tortured face that day when he'd told her about his fight with Jenny. His pained expression before he'd sped off to the night and her fear of the unknown. The many times he'd excused and apologised for his sister's behaviour because he thought Jenny was doing it out of love when Claire could clearly see it was all out of selfishness. "Let me get this straight ...you only recognised your mistake because you became worried sick after your brother took off. Are you even aware that you've been treating him like an imbecile all this while as if he can't decide for himself? This was never about him, Jenny, is it? You're only thinking about yourself. The other night scared the bejesus out of you because you knew well you were part of the reason he took off. Tell me this ...how does it feel like to be riddled with guilt now, huh? Try multiplying that guilt by a thousandfold and remind yourself that's what Jamie feels every day of his life. And if you think saying sorry will make things right again, you need your head thoroughly examined. Jamie loves you despite all your meddling, and you unashamedly continued to manipulate him. So excuse me if I have trouble believing a single word you're saying now. Because you know what the bloody hell this looks like? Your apologies to me sound like you're trying to manipulate me as well. And all because I happen to own an impressive three million pound property."

"No!" Jenny shook her head in despair. "Everything else is true ...but not that about yer property." There's a tremor in her voice and shame in her eyes. "I stopped by yesterday to apologise to ye, but ye werenae home, and when Mrs Fitz from across the road saw me, she handed me that newspaper clipping. I swear to God, Claire, I came to ye even before I knew ye had that property."

Claire couldn't stand there and listen anymore, not after what she'd gone through the last couple of days. She needed to let all her frustration out, or she'd implode. "I don't trust you, Jenny. If drivel could bounce, you'd be in the bloody orbit by now. Unfortunately, that won't happen, so I'm out of here. I can't stand being here any longer." The words exploded out of her and popped in the air like bright red fireworks.

Jenny fell back a step and gasped. Claire was shocked too with the words that came out of her mouth. But she took that opportunity to rush out of the cottage, not caring if it was still raining, only focusing on getting as far away from Jenny as possible.

She'd just crossed the street when a vehicle screeched to a stop and reversed. Claire kept on walking, still reeling from her conversation with Jenny.

"Miss Beauchamp?"

She stopped and glanced into the Land Rover window that stopped by her side and noticed a familiar face. "Yes?"

The man tipped his baseball cap on his head and smiled. "It's me, Tom Christie."

"Oh ... it's you ... you're early!" was all she could say, too surprised for words.

"Actually, I'm on my way home to change clothes before our meeting. Do ye need a ride? I noticed ye dinnae have a brolly with ye, and it's raining."

Claire glanced back at the cottage and saw Jenny standing at the doorway, looking at her with that still ashen face. She'd heard rumours in the village about Tom being a ladies' man and knew what it would look like to Jenny if she got into the Land Rover with him. But she didn't give a flying fig. Let her gossip! Smiling, she nodded at Tom. "Yes, please. To the village centre if it's no trouble."

He grinned. "Nae bother at all. Hop in."

..........

"Remind me again why I'm here," Willie mumbled under his breath as they followed a young woman down a long hallway lined with modern paintings. "I thought I made it clear it should be Claire attending this therapy with ye. In case ye need reminding, I got our business to run."

Jamie sighed. "I'd rather ye're here. Ye ken my condition better than anyone."

"Is it Geneva ye're worried about?" his older brother asked in a low voice.

"God, no. I'd be more worried if Jenny came with me. Christ, she'd been pushing Geneva and me together for as long as I can remember. I ken the lass took a fancy in me, but that's all it ever was. I'm just concerned it's gonnae be weird since we ken each other."

Willie glanced at him with understanding. "There's nae avoiding it, lad. We live in a small village, and everyone knows everyone. It's the bane of living in such a place. We just have to make do with what we have."

"Aye, that's true."

The young woman in front of them turned. "The last one on the right," she smiled, pointing at the white door. Jamie wanted to say he knew his way around and that it was the same office as his former therapist but decided not to and returned her smile instead.

With Willie close behind him, he stepped forward and knocked lightly against the door. A feminine voice answered from the inside, "Come in."

Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a familiar, cosy space and Geneva, dressed in a black pantsuit with her hair done in a bun. She was sat in a dark leather armchair, looking them over with her transparent-rimmed glasses. If she was surprised to see Willie with him, she hid it well.

"Mr Fraser, it's nice to see you again." Smiling warmly, she stood up and held out her hand for him. Taking it, she gave him a firm handshake before doing the same to Willie and motioning them towards the over-size beige leather sofa arranged in the middle of the room. "Please take a seat." Like a couple of schoolboys, they both did as they were told.

"Before anything else," she began, looking at Jamie. "I have you here for one on one therapy. Is there a reason why you brought your brother with you?"

Jamie cleared his throat and licked his lips. "I, ah, wanted him here for moral support."

"Fair enough. So what can I do for you?" She smiled, crossing her legs and reclining back into her armchair, a clipboard resting on her thigh.

Jamie anxiously glanced at Willie, but his brother only shrugged. "I dinnae ken where to start. Ever since yer predecessor left, I havenae been to therapy because I didnae feel comfortable seeing a therapist who knows me on a personal level. It kinda feels odd."

She steepled her fingers together, her blue eyes narrowing on him. "I understand this is out of your comfort zone and probably, for some, highly unusual. But I'd like to make it clear that I take my job seriously, and I hold myself to the highest professional standard. Whatever friendship I have with your sister will have no effect whatsoever on what would transpire within these walls. If you wish to proceed, please take a few deep breaths and just forget that you know me. In here, I am Dr Dunsany, and you are Mr Fraser."

Jamie considered her words as she waited patiently for his reply. After a minute of contemplation, he finally nodded and took a few cleansing breaths. "Fine."

She smiled. "So, first things first. What prompted you to finally see a therapist?"

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "I'm in a serious relationship." Jamie thought he saw an ever so slight arching of her eyebrow but immediately dismissed it as his imagination. "And my condition and the panic attacks are hurting our relationship. I figured in order for us to move forward, I needed to take steps in getting better."

Geneva picked up her clipboard and started scribbling. "What do you believe your girlfriend thinks about your condition?"

Jamie smiled briefly at the thought of Claire. "Weel, she's very understanding and very patient, and she's taken my condition in a stride. Like the rest of my family, she thinks I'm suffering from suppressed guilt and emotions."

Geneva paused and closely appraised him. "Why do you think she thinks you have suppressed guilt and emotions?"

His heart began to increase its pace, and his throat tightened. "Because we were both there when her parents died. She was able to move on, but I couldnae," the words came out rapidly.

A whoosh of breath came from Willie.

"Why do you think she was able to move on and you couldn't?" she pushed, seemingly unaffected by Jamie's revelation.

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Because it's my fault that she grew up without a family."

He heard Willie's breath hitch, but Geneva ignored his brother.

"And why do you think it's your fault?"

His mouth became dry, and his tongue thick. "I didnae run fast enough to get help when their car crashed. If I had, she wouldnae be orphaned today. If I was stronger, I wouldnae have needed to run off and get my godfather, and I could have pulled the door open myself and saved her parents as well."

"You look like a strong man, Mr Fraser. Why do you think you needed to run and get help to pull the door open?"

"I wasnae big enough back then. I was only ten." He dropped his head into his hand. "And she was so wee ...crying for her ma. All I could do was hold her."

He started to hyperventilate as the image of Harry staring at him through the window, sprung to life. It was the last image he saw before the car had exploded.

Sensing his discomfort, Geneva stood from her armchair and retrieved two bottles of mineral water from the mini-fridge, handing them each to the brothers. They both gratefully accepted, taking large gulps.

When he got his breathing back under control, she proceeded. "I understand now your frustration at not being big enough to carry the task out yourself and why you had to get your godfather." She scribbled a few more notes on her clipboard. "I'm going to go back to the question you haven't answered yet. Why do you think your girlfriend was able to move on from her parents' death?"

He squashed the empty bottle of mineral water. "She was too young then to understand any of it, just a wee bairn when it happened."

"And so were you."

"She was five, and I was ten. I was old enough to be able to do something about it, but I couldn't."

"Your godfather, who was old enough and stronger than you, was unable to do anything further. Do you think it was your godfather's fault?"

"No! Of course, not. He tried his best. We got her ...Claire, who's m-my girlfriend now, out first and my godfather made me take her to safety. But the car caught fire, and it exploded."

"So it's not your godfather's fault, and yet you think it was your fault."

"Yes!"

"Why would you think, after all the efforts you and your godfather have done to try and save your girlfriend's parents, it's still your fault?"

"It was the way he looked at me."

"Who looked at you?"

"Claire's father. Just before the car exploded."

"How did he look at you?"

"He was just staring at me."

"And you can't get that out of your head?"

"No."

A mild frown of concentration descended across Geneva's face as she flipped through the notes on her clipboard. She reached out for a manila folder on a coffee table by her side and browsed through it too. "This is a great start, Mr Fraser," she continued. "From what I've here in your history with your former therapist, this is the first time you've ever talked about an experience from your childhood. This is highly interesting. Care to tell me why you've never talked about this before."

"It's a memory that I've forgotten, and it's just resurfaced recently."

She arched an eyebrow. "How recently?"

"A few days ago."

"Can you remember what triggered the memories to come back?"

"The night I met my girlfriend's uncle on video chat."

"So, prior to that night, you had no recollection of the forgotten memory, is that correct?"

"Aye."

"Why do you think your girlfriend's uncle triggered all the memory to come back?"

His fingers began to pick at the water bottle label. "He looks exactly my girlfriend' father."

A long silence ensued.

Geneva placed the clipboard by her side and uncrossed her legs. "That will be all for today, Mr Fraser. We've covered enough to have something to work on."

Jamie's head shot up. "So that's it? That was quick," he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, we're far from done, Mr Fraser, but you've revealed more than I anticipated, so I decided to stop while we're ahead. Thank you for answering all questions as openly as possible."

"So what's yer diagnosis?"

She tilted her head to the side. "I believe you have a lot of misplaced guilt about your past that may be hindering you from moving on. So ...what I would like you to do is ...I want you to think about how you want your future to look like. Think really hard and try to dig deep. Next time we catch up, we'll discuss everything in details." She stood up, and Jamie and Willie followed suit. "I'll see you next week. My assistant will write down the date of our next meeting. You can pick up your appointment card on the way out," she smiled, opening the door and ushering them out.

The brothers walked out quietly together, both lost in their own thoughts.

"That wasnae too bad, was it?" Willie asked as they stepped out of the building.

Jamie shook his head. "No, no' at all." His head was still buzzing from the session, so he didn't really have much opinion to offer.

"Perhaps next time, ye can bring Claire with ye."

At the mention of her name, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket. He'd silenced it all morning as he'd prepared himself for the therapy but was disappointed to see there was no new message from her. "She hasnae messaged."

"I'm no' surprised. You havenae been returning her calls. And ye have no excuse, lad, because I left ye a charger at Lallybroch."

Jamie followed his brother close behind as they made their way to the car. "How do ye know I've no' been returning her calls?"

"She told me."

"How is she?"

"Find out yersel'."

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

His heart and brain must have swapped places because suddenly, his heart seemed twice as heavy, and his brain thumped against his skull. "M-my Claire?"

Willie tipped his head like he's on the brink of calling Ian an eejit. "Hold up, this could all be just an innocent thing. Wasnae Claire supposed to be meeting with someone from here for some book publication?"

"Nae way!" Ian shook his head. "Christie doesnae look like the type to string a sentence together, never mind write a book."

"Alright," Jamie breathed, propping his hands on the edge of the car's roof. His brain was barely functioning because it was knocking against his temple, making him see red. He'd completely underestimated his ability to let her go, thinking he was doing it for her own good. Claire hadn't called today because she thought he'd given up. Ah, shite! He felt he was going to be sick. "I need to go and see her. Now."

"Fuck!" Willie muttered. "I'm coming with ye." Then he bent down to Ian's eye level and pointed his index finger at his brother-in-law. "Next time, run this kind of info by me first."

Ian smirked. "Fine. But I'm coming too. I'm up for seeing a bit of nefariousness."

Jamie was already in the car, fastening his seat belt. "Let's go!"

Dear Readers,

Whew, that was a long chapter. I'm literally drained; nevertheless, I'm feeling a sense of satisfaction that I can post it today. My eyes are wonky, though, from editing, and I was about to go through it again when I thought, ah bugger it, I will do the grammar check tomorrow.

Before I say nighty-night, thanks for your feedback from the previous chapter, and I'm looking forward to what you think of this next one. I know it's slow going, but I really wanted to cover as many plot holes as possible. Slowly but surely, I'm getting there. Anyway, take care always and keep spreading kindness and love. Until the next update, much love! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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clefairymuke · 4 years ago

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regrets | chapter four

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader / eren jaeger x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 2574

You sat next to Jean at lunch, picking at your soup. He was retelling the story of the fight with Eren for the second time that day, each iteration with growing exaggeration of how badly he kicked Eren's ass. You weren't really listening, though. You were mostly rewatching the events of last night in your mind, like you had been since you went to bed after leaving the stables.

Every few minutes, you would feel the tingle of eyes on you across the room. Eren was glancing up at you, either to smile, mock your expression, or just to hold your eyes for a brief moment. You would barely turn up the corners of your mouth in reply, knowing your face gave away the blushing mess you really were. You replayed your own personal highlight reel in your head yet again: the sparkle in his eyes as he pressed your foreheads together; his hair tickling your cheek as he nestled his face into your shoulder; the steam rising from his back when your fingernails raked against it.

"Are you listening?" Connie asked, breaking you from your trance. You wracked your brain trying to remember what they were discussing before Eren sent you to a distracted paradise.

"Yeah, Jean kicked Eren's ass. He already told us," you tried, your eyes falling when Connie looked at you with disappointment.

"No, I was asking you how yesterday went," he said, meeting your eyes expectantly.

You looked away quickly. "Yesterday? What do you mean?" How could they already know? They would never stop making fun of you for as long as you lived. Jean was probably going to cut your head off.

"With Captain Levi?" Connie reminded you, staring at you like you had gone nuts. "Are you all there today?"

You internally sighed with relief. "Not really, honestly. I was up half the night with the horses. Levi put me on stable duty for two weeks," you answered, quickly seeing that your friends were looking at you for more. "He tried to have me clean all the superior's suites, but when I went to clean his, he said I was being disrespectful and dismissed me before I even started," you snorted, seeing the look in Levi's eyes again as you told them what happened.

"What did you say to him to make him so angry?" Ymir asked, but Eren had begun to distract you again.

"I don't even remember, honestly," you replied, your eyes floating away to meet the green ones a few tables over.

---

ODM training was one of your least favorite things about the Survey Corps. It was like Commander Erwin ignored that it was practically half of your cadet training. It had never been hard for you; doing it so repetitively made you absolutely sick of it. Levi was leading training, perched on a branch to better see everyone. Every time you glanced at him, you wanted to barf. He, on the other hand, was paying no attention to you.

You sliced through another practice pad on a stupid wooden "titan." Sure, the fake titans were cool the first time, but once you had actually been face to face with one, it was nothing but funny. Still, you used it for an outlet for your anger. The only ones in front of you were Mikasa and Reiner, the three of you hardly leaving any practice pads for those behind you. You tried to push Levi's infuriating words and Eren's inviting glances from your mind and throw yourself wholly into the exercise. For whatever stupid reason, you wanted to show Levi that you were one of the best. Perhaps it was spite.

You landed on the ground at the end of the training course, taking a seat and getting some water as you, Mikasa, and Reiner waited for your remaining comrades. Bertholdt landed soon after you, followed by Eren. You looked down at your canteen, trying your best not to look at Eren as he presumably went to stand with Mikasa. He no longer made ignoring him an option, however, when he sat next to you and opened his canteen.

"Eren," you said, looking up to meet his eyes, "I don't feel like becoming Mikasa's punching bag today." You weren't looking at her, but you knew she was looking at you.

"She's harmless, don't worry. I was just wondering if you'd be at the stables again tonight." He took a long gulp of water and looked back at you.

"I'll be at the stables every night for two weeks, thanks to Levi," you said, a frown pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"It hasn't been much of a punishment so far, has it?" he asked smugly, his proud smile pulling a laugh out of you. "I'll meet you there again tonight. Don't try to kill me again?"

"No promises." Your smile faded as Jean landed. Eren spotted him too.

"I'll see you then," he told you quietly, brushing his hand over yours inconspicuously as he got up. He walked towards a glaring Mikasa with a grin, her eyes softening as he got closer. You realized that you felt bad for her; it was a shame Eren didn't feel the same way. Your musing about Mikasa was interrupted as Jean broke the short silence.

"What did he say to you?" he asked you curiously, taking the seat Eren had been in only moments before.

You quickly thought of a lie and answered, "He was supposed to be on stable duty this week. We ran into each other last night, so I sent him back to the dorms. He was asking if I was on stables the rest of the week or if he needed to come back tonight."

Jean nodded and drank from his canteen, leaning back on one hand. "I was wondering today when we would get to visit home again. It's getting kind of boring, staying here and training all the time, don't you think?"

You thought about that for a few moments. You didn't have a home anymore, or even a family. It must have slipped Jean's mind. If the Scouts were allowed leave, you would likely be staying with him, or just staying there. "I bet you miss your mom," you finally decided to say, avoiding the question altogether. You saw a look of realization on his face, and appreciated when he decided to ignore it.

"Yeah, sometimes. I mostly just miss waking up in my own room. Being surrounded by people at all times gets suffocating, you know? It seems like the good people are getting fewer and far between." You saw the frown on his face, and knew he was likely thinking about Marco.

You nudged his shoulder with yours. "I'm not going anywhere, big guy. As much as you might want me to." He looked down at you, grinning. He already knew that.

---

When you made it to the stables, Eren was already sat in the pile of hay the two of you laid in the night before. He greeted you and patted the spot next to him, motioning for you to sit down. The two of you talked meaninglessly for a while, tender touches and chaste kisses sprinkled in between words. After a while, he asked you to tell him about yourself.

"There isn't much to tell," you said, thinking.

"Well, where are you from? What's your family like?" he asked you innocently, his fingers tracing your knuckles.

"I don't like to talk about that stuff. After Wall Maria, I was the only one left in my family. Even Jean doesn't know where I'm from, or even my mom's name. I guess it's easier to pretend it never existed." You clenched your hand into a fist under Eren's fingers, clearly uncomfortable. You looked away from him.

"Let's skip that then. What's your favorite color?"

You laughed, relaxing. "I like green. Like grass and trees." You started to get embarrassed as you realized it was also the color of his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Mine is probably blue. Like the ocean."

"What's your happiest memory?" you asked him. The two of you went back and forth like that for what seemed like hours, pausing between to change how you were sitting, or laying, or just stopping to stare at each other for a few moments.

After some minutes of silence following your last answer, you laid on his chest with your eyes closed, listening to him breathe. Finally, he said, "My mom's name was Carla. She died at Wall Maria, too."

You were quiet for a few moments, then you said, "Did you see it happen?"

"Yeah." His chest grew tense. You were sure that if you looked up you would see the beginnings of tears pricking his eyes.

"You're like me, then." You ran your fingers across his ribs, trailing circles on his stomach. His arm grew tighter around you. You looked up at him slowly, meeting his bright green eyes that cut through the intense darkness outside. He removed his hand from where it rested on your stomach to cradle the back of your head, wrapping your hair in his fingers and pulling you closer to him. He kissed you, softly at first, but with growing passion as the kiss went on. His lips tasted sweet like watermelon, the salt from his skin being the perfect complement. He pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling him, letting his hands run down your back and up again, this time under your shirt. His hands were soft. He healed too quickly for the rough callouses that covered most of the Scouts' hands.

Your own hands were placed gently on either of his cheeks as he explored your body, soft fingertips tracing your spine, collarbones, breasts, stomach, and hipbones. Your breathing hitched as his lips moved to your neck, your fingers traveling to tangle themselves in his hair. You threw your head back and let a soft moan escape your lips. Without breaking his lips' hold on your neck, he gently flipped you so that you laid on the hay under him. He kissed down your collar bones, pausing for just a moment to lift your shirt over your head. When you tugged at the hem of his, he reached back and pulled it off in a single motion.

You loved the feeling of his skin on yours as he continued his path with his mouth, from your shoulder, to your clavicle, to your left breast. His lips attached to your nipple, suckling gently and letting his teeth graze it every once in a while. Your back arched, his name escaping your mouth almost silently. He kissed down your stomach and finally made it to the waistband of your pants, looking up at you with wide eyes and swollen lips. When you nodded, he unbuttoned them slowly, sliding them down your legs and placing them gently on the hay.

He placed methodical kisses on your inner thighs as you spread your legs, trailing upwards with each lick and bite. It felt like tiny shocks of electricity each time his warm mouth took your cold skin between his teeth. When his tongue finally landed on you, you were in ecstasy. You felt it shoot upwards through your body as he gently toyed with your clit, sucking softly as your hands found his hair. You kept trying to pull him closer, your hips rolling slightly to meet the intense pleasure at the source.

He moved his tongue against you for what you wished was forever, pressure swelling inside your core. His fingers slid into you with ease, your opening completely slick. He worked at your spot relentlessly, his long fingers twisting and bending to make your experience as pleasurable as possible. After a while, he gently pulled away, causing you to whine at the loss of sensation. Everything building up inside of you seemed to fade almost completely as he rose back up level with your eyes. His mouth was wet from you, glistening in the warm light of the lantern. Still, you leaned up and kissed him with as much as you could muster, your tongues falling recklessly in each others mouths as he used one arm to prop himself and the other to unbuckle his belt shakily. You reached down and finished the job quickly, yanking the buckle apart and sliding his pants down his hips.

You took him in one of your hands, stroking him softly has you continued to kiss him passionately. You bent your knees to allow him better access as you positioned him at your entrance. He took your other hand into his, placing it next to your head and interlocking your fingers tightly as he pushed into you slowly, whimpering quietly as he buried himself completely in you.

"Eren," you gasped, shocked at your sudden fullness like you hadn't been reliving it since last night. He nestled his face into your shoulder as he started to move back and forth, leaving chaste bites on your collar bone. He smelled like vanilla and sweat. It was currently your favorite scent in the world -- he was intoxicating like this; his body surrounded you in the most comforting, gentle way. Sex with him was a side you had never seen before; he was usually so grandiose and angry, but when he was intimate like this he was anything but. He was caring and gentle. He was a giver. He whimpered and moaned where you would expect grunts and groans. He would whisper your name over and over into your ear, like he was doing then. Your body would tingle with each time he said it, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He took his head from your shoulder and his hand from yours, pressing his lips against yours with pure desire. He hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you upwards. He created an angle that left you breathless as he thrusted into your spot relentlessly. Your fingernails found his back, leaving long scratches down either spot as steam rose and healed it almost immediately. He stifled your intense moans with his own mouth as he slipped his tongue between your teeth. He moved his lips to your neck yet again, letting your moans free as he let his own slip out. "Are you close?" he asked you, looking into your eyes for the first time since you had begun.

"Yes," you told him breathlessly, causing him to speed up and continue his assault on the most sensitive parts of your neck. All of the pressure building inside of you exploded in a second, sending volts of electricity through your whole body and his name out of your mouth with a string of expletives as you came, pulsing around him in ecstasy as his strokes became sloppy and out of rhythm. He kissed you as he pulled out of you quickly, releasing himself onto your stomach with a moan that sent vibrations across your lips.

When you managed to pull yourselves apart, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "I came prepared this time, love," he told you blissfully, wiping you clean. He threw the cloth to the side and slid his arms around you tightly, holding your head to his chest as you both caught your breath.

Stable duty wasn't half bad, after all.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #enemies to lovers #slowburn #eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yeager #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader

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koolkat9 · 3 years ago

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HWS Germany Ship Week 2021: Day 5

Prompt: End of a Long Day

Paring: GerEng

Word Count: 1281

Winding Down

It had been a long day, but that was a given with any meeting day. Nothing ever got done at best and at worst, multiple fights broke out. What was the point of meetings nowadays? Arthur had joked many times in the past Afonso that it was more like a daycare for nations than a professional meeting, but in recent times that was becoming less of a joke. And poor Ludwig worked tirelessly to try to get something out of it, only to lose his temper at everyone’s immaturity and adjourn the meeting, barely having covered the topics that needed to be discussed.

This particular meeting had taken an even worse toll on the German. He had already been working himself to the bone with paperwork and other tasks for his boss on top of prepping for the meeting. And of course, the other nations did not make Ludwig’s job as host any easier and he ended up cutting the meeting short because he had barely any energy to keep everyone in check. In the aftermath of it all, Arthur was left with an exhausted and miserable lover.

They walked hand-in-hand down the hallway that seemed to go on for miles, Arthur watching for their room number. As soon as they found it and got inside, Ludwig beelined it to the bed, collapse onto it. Letting out a light chuckle, Arthur made his way over to the sink, filling up the room’s kettle with water to make some tea for himself and Ludwig. He joined his partner in bed, two styrofoam cups in hand. Without a word, Ludwig heaved himself up, settled into Arthur’s side, and took his cup. “Danke,” he murmured, taking his first sip.

Arthur gave him a smile, his hand moving to Ludwig’s hair to comb through it. “You’re welcome, love.” They drank their tea in silence, content just to be laying together with the worries of the day behind them. Arthur continued to run his fingers through Ludwig’s hair, messing up the meticulously gelled back. His hand eventually traveled lower, reaching the German’s neck finding the area incredibly stiff and knotted. “Oh darling you’re so tense,” Arthur exclaimed, “Maybe you should take a bath or something.”

Ludwig only shook his head, hiding his face in Arthur’s side. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled.

“Okay...But after we finish up here I propose we go on holiday out of the country. You desperately need one. Maybe Italy or something.” As he spoke, he began massaging Ludwig’s neck almost absentmindedly, his tea now off to the side. “See the Colosseum, have some quality wine-”

“Leave it to you to think about the alcohol,” Ludwig laughed lowly.

“Hey!” Arthur gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Go sightseeing, eat gelato, we could even visit Feliciano. Or we could always go to Japan even. Get off the continent.” Arthur went on, listing off all the possible destinations and things they could do, making Ludwig’s smile grow with each one.

“On your stomach,” Arthur demanded about halfway through. Although he didn’t want Arthur fretting over him, he found himself complying, not having the energy to argue (plus, his back was a little achy). His hands trailed across the German’s back, noting areas of the most tension, then getting to work on those areas. As he worked, Arthur resumed their previous conversation “Then there is Australia, but that’s a bit far don’t you think? Maybe Canada would be better and I’m sure Matthew and Al wouldn’t mind us borrowing their cottage for a week.”

“The one we went to last summer?” Ludwig asked though it broke out into a pleased hum as Arthur dug his fingers deeper into his shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Mmm. I think that one sounds the nicest.”

“Then it’s decided. I’ll talk to Matthew about it tomorrow.” With that sorted out, Arthur could now focus solely on massaging, kneading into the skin until the muscles below loosened. As Arthur continued to work, Ludwig let out pleased noises while allowing his body to melt into the mattress. Arthur may have denied the fact, but he was skilled with his hands. By the time Arthur was finished, Ludwig felt much lighter and more relaxed, it was just what he needed.

“Now with that out of the way, how about some dinner?” the Englishman offered, leaning back on the headboard.

“Can we eat in?”

“Of course love.” Arthur reached over to the nightstand, grabbing hold of a room service menu, and placed it in between them so they could look over it. Ludwig sat up to get a better look. Once they had picked out what they wanted, Arthur dialed the number while Ludwig settled down into the pillows once more.

“I know it’s early, but maybe we should change into our pajamas,” Arthur suggested, going over to his suitcase and pulling out his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. While over there, he got some pajamas for Ludwig as well and laid them out on the bed before changing into his own.

Ludwig begrudgingly sat up once more, his eyes lingering on his lover as he slipped the t-shirt on. The shirt itself was quite familiar. “Is that my shirt?”

Arthur turned back to him, a sheepish grin on his face. “M-Maybe.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes, though there was a smile on his face. Although he was tired and hated putting PJs on this early, he followed Arthur’s suggestion.

Dressed in their PJs and the food on its way, they propped up the pillows and leaned back, and flipped through the movies they could rent. In the end, they picked Labyrinth. Actually, it was more like Arthur got this longing look in his eyes, hesitating for a minute before moving on.

“If you want to watch it, you can watch it,” Ludwig said with a chuckle.

Arthur turned to his boyfriend, brows furrowing. “But this is for you. Are you sure?”

“Ja. Right now I don’t really care.”

With a kiss on the forehead and a soft ‘okay’ Arthur flipped back to the movie and selected it. Not long after there was a knock at the door, signaling the arrival of their dinner.

Arthur ended up paying for both dinner and movie despite Ludwig’s protests. “Consider it a gift from me to you for all the shit you put up with,” Arthur had said as he set out the food on their table. Ludwig couldn’t help but feel giddy at the reasoning, any argument soon fell away, and instead, he took a seat at the table with a 'thank you.'

They ate in comfortable silence, making small talk occasionally such as asking how the meal was. Arthur had spoiled them, getting each of them a cheesecake for dessert. Not necessarily Ludwig’s first choice, but cheesecake was good and this particular one was delicious.

Bellies full, the two lovers returned to the bed and hit play on the film they had set up prior. They took a similar position as when they first got here, Ludwig nestled into Arthur’s side with Arthur combing his hand through the other man’s hair (and they wouldn’t have it any other way).

“Have you seen this one before?” Ludwig asked, his voice tired.

“Yes. I mainly like it because of David Bowie.”

Ludwig shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “You and David Bowie.”

“Shhh, it's starting.”

Not even fifteen minutes in, Ludwig was fast asleep, arms wrapped around Arthur’s waist as if he was a teddy bear. A warm smile spread across the Brit’s face as he leaned down to place a goodnight kiss on his lover’s head before returning to his movie.

#germanyshipevent2021 #hws #hetalia #gereng #engger #geruk #hws england #hws germany #fluff #end of a long day #massages #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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