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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

All In

F/M Pairing: Fem!Reader x Chan x Changbin (SKZ)

Genre: Established Relationship AU

Warnings: Oh. My. The Smut!! Language, alcohol use (minor), and please let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

Word Count: 8.5K

Summary: Where you find yourself quite literally in the middle of Chan and Changbin, your two boyfriends who sometimes fight over what’s best for you.

A/N: Inspired by these asks from a lovely anon: here, here, and here!! Also, nobody on this Earth can tell me that they wouldn’t love to have both Chan and Changbin as their boyfriend.

Tagging @skzwriternet

There were less than one hundred words to type for your latest freelance assignment, but you were bored with the project - a mundane piece about the effectiveness of self-driving cars.

But you always had two people who could brighten your afternoon, and you just so happened to stumble upon your most recent text conversations with Changbin while scrolling mindlessly through your applications. You smiled at the message you had composed for him, knowing that he wouldn’t take well to your teasing:

To Changbin:

Binnie, I’m wearing the lingerie you bought for me.

You giggled at the obvious flirtation, but you also figured that Changbin was too busy to respond, and you were ready to put your phone away when an unexpected message flashed across the screen.

From Changbin:

Show me.

You swallowed hard at the request. Did he really mean that? Could you sneak away from your writing and snap a few pictures for your boyfriend?

Of course you could. It wouldn’t be the first time that you entertained Changbin’s demands to see you all dressed up for him. And in consideration of the all the nice things he did for you on a regular basis, you could sacrifice a few minutes of writing time to indulge his fantasies.

Plus, since you were home alone, you had no issue taking off your t-shirt and sweatpants, exposing the saucy lingerie you wore underneath - a cute black thong and matching bralette that complimented your figure. It was clearly everything that Changbin loved to see on you according to his preferences, and you experimented with different angles, holding out your phone as your spread your legs across the couch, giving Changbin a perfect view of the tiny piece of fabric cupping your heat.

And after your impromptu photo shoot, you scrolled through the snapped pictures, picking the best ones, and nodding in satisfaction at your careful selections before sending the images to Changbin’s awaiting inbox.

From there, it only took five minutes for him to respond, and you glanced at the delivered message from him and shivered:

From Changbin:

Oh, princess, I’m gonna ruin you.

The message held all sorts of ominous implications, and you made sure to greet Changbin at the door because he was inclined to give you the cold shoulder if you ignored him.

You smiled at him as he removed his coat and tie, allowing him to corner you against the wall, accepting his eager kisses as his hands dug into the meaty part of your thighs. “Come here,” he said, crooking his fingers at you while you proceeded to follow him into the living room like a well-trained dog.

You watched as Changbin took a seat on the couch, patting his lap to show you where he expected you to sit, and you were more than eager to straddle his thick thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as he reconnected your lips. The taste of him was like the literal embodiment of passion, and you were moaning across the seam of his mouth while Changbin hiked your skirt further up your legs, groaning when he spotted a flash of black, hands kneading your ass as he rocked you against his hardening erection. “That’s a pretty sight,” Changbin said, and he connected your lips once more, kissing you with all the romance and care that defined Changbin’s affectionate side.

It reminded you, however briefly, that Changbin’s demonstrations of love had always stood in stark contradiction to Chan’s rough and aggressive treatment because it was often very difficult to even beg a compliment from your older boyfriend. “Your mind is somewhere else, princess,” Changbin interrupted your thoughts, tapping his fingers against your forehead to bring you back into the moment with him. “What were you thinking about?”

“You, of course,” you told him, running your hands down his shirt-covered chest, feeling the buttons as they crossed your palms.

“Good,” Changbin growled while he managed to successfully tuck your skirt around your delicate waistline, leaving you almost fully exposed where he clearly wanted you the most. “You sent me those pictures in the middle of my meeting,” Changbin continued, and you gasped when one of his fingers defied the barrier of fabric contouring your lower half, sinking into your warm heat with a sudden penetration.

“Changbin,” you whined, burying your face against the spot between his neck and shoulder, moving your hips to fuck yourself down against his finger because it was becoming clear to you that it would be all you were getting from him - a punishment for your earlier actions. “M’ sorry,” you said, breaths coating his skin with a thin sheen of perspiration while you tried to take him further inside, sitting down and enjoying every bit of friction as he scraped his nail against your sensitive walls.

“We’ll see how sorry you are,” Changbin said, latching his lips against the front of your throat to suck the skin between his teeth, determined to leave a mark.

And you would’ve complained about the red blemish that he was going to leave behind had it not been for the sound of the door opening as your other boyfriend returned home. But he was earlier than you expected, not that it deterred Changbin in the slightest who didn’t even seem to notice that Chan was standing in the entranceway to your shared living room. Eyes narrowed as he took in the scene of you being split apart at the seams.

“You both knew better,” Chan said, and it was an unusual greeting that prompted you into attention, realizing that something was wrong when Chan tossed his expensive leather briefcase onto the counter before rolling up his sleeves - something he only ever did when he was trying to be more intimidating. “Did you forget our plans for tonight?”

You gasped and froze in Changbin’s lap, suddenly feeling every bit like a bolt of electricity had just run through your entire being, switching off your arousal-addled brain even while Changbin seemed to be on a totally different wavelength, adding yet another finger and filling the room with loud squelching sounds.

It only served to piss off Chan even more, and you squealed when he interrupted Changbin to lift you up beneath your arms, tossing you over his shoulder with your thong-clad ass still on full display.

“Hey!” Changbin protested, fingers shining with the evidence of what he had just been doing to your poor throbbing pussy.

“You both knew that we had dinner tonight,” Chan called back over his shoulder, and his tone carried an obvious warning.

But Changbin wouldn’t be the one to suffer the consequences, and you were already dreading whatever Chan had planned when he dumped you unceremoniously onto the mattress in the master bedroom.

“Bend over,” Chan growled, and you whimpered but obeyed him, bracing yourself higher using your forearms for support. His hand twisted itself into your hair, turning your face to the side so that you were forced to look into his eyes. “What do bad girls get, Y/N?”

“No, Channie,” you whined because the thought of going to this expensive dinner tonight with a sore ass was not high on your list of priorities.

“No?” Chan repeated, and you hated to hear him so furious, landing a hard smack to your backside without any prior warning. “Do you want to try that again?”

“I’m sorry,” you cried, wincing at the sting. “I forgot about the dinner.”

“You forgot?” Chan scoffed, and you knew that you had just dug yourself into an even deeper hole, wrestling against Chan’s hold even as he allowed three more firm hits in quick succession. “Why is that, baby? Did it slip your mind when you were letting Changbin finger-fuck you into oblivion?”

“It’s not her fault,” came a much-needed interruption from the man in question, and Chan turned around with a glare to look at Changbin who had joined the two of you in the bedroom. “I forgot about it too.”

Chan scoffed in disbelief, running a hand over his face with a growl. “Were you both ignoring me for this entire week? Or, did you think I was just making up stories about the dinner that my office was hosting for our big case?”

“Lay off, Chan,” Changbin muttered, and you were only slightly relieved when you felt him soothe his hand across the burning skin of your ass. “We only have an hour before we have to leave.”

You watched as Chan paused, looking at nothing in particular, but it was something Chan always did whenever he had to begrudgingly agree with Changbin, even when it meant interrupting whatever punishment his sadistic mind had concocted for you. Because Chan hated to be interrupted, almost as much as he hated being left out or forgotten. He always made these things into a much bigger deal because he had a rough past where he was frequently neglected and ignored. It manifested itself into bouts of frustration that evolved into situations like this with you hunched over in place, praying that Changbin had gotten through to Chan and your boyfriend would forget all about your stupid mishap.

“Hurry up,” Chan eventually conceded, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he left the bedroom.

Chan was a big, fancy lawyer upstate with a bunch of older partners who had willingly taken him under their wing when he graduated. However, back when you had first met Chan in college, he was much quieter and withdrawn, and you couldn’t even imagine how he would ever become a successful lawyer. But he changed, much like most people do during those formative years.

Chan was a lot more confident in several aspects of his life, including his job and the relationship he had joined with you and Changbin. But you might never get used to how he exerted himself around others, with a degree of self-assuredness that spoke to his accolades. For example, Chan’s introduction of you when one of his colleagues opened the door to their fancy penthouse suite, examining you and Changbin with scrutiny while Chan offered your names and proceeded to make you both seem far more important than you really were...not that Changbin’s office job was anything to be ashamed of, but Chan would really play up the two of you when he was looking to impress.

“Your girlfriend is beautiful,” the man at the door offered, eyeing you with an interest that you didn’t appreciate, especially when Chan tried to tug you away from Changbin and closer to himself....and the pig eyeballing your chest.

Which is why you hesitated, clinging even tighter to Changbin’s arm, but Chan shot you a warning glare, and you reluctantly offered your hand to him which he held in a firm grip. “Hello,” you said to the Senior partner who smiled and forced a wet kiss to the back of your outstretched hand.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” the man continued. “Come inside, we have plenty to drink.”

Chan laughed at the rather unfunny quip, waiting for the older man to head back further inside before turning on you and Changbin. “Behave,” Chan snapped, looking between you and Changbin with a fierce glare.

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled, which you could tell that Chan didn’t appreciate, but he withheld the urge to argue.

Instead, Chan led the two of you into the outlandishly decorated penthouse, and you swallowed hard at the appearance of a golden chandelier hanging down from the ceiling - perfectly affluent in every means of the word. “Damn,” Changbin whispered, and you could tell that he was just as impressed as you.

And your open-mouthed wonder of the lavish space persisted throughout the rest of the evening - every time you tasted the sweetest champagne, nibbled on the most extravagant finger foods (caviar???), and indulged in the sweet little chocolates as they passed you on the trays of the smartly-dressed waiters. It was good enough to keep you entertained while Chan flitted from person to person, eventually leaving you and Changbin behind in the living room to go outside onto the balcony and enjoy a pricey cigar with some “very important” people.

Changbin sighed as he caught sight of Chan outside, craning his head back in laughter and smoke exhaled from his nose. “I don’t get why Chan wants to impress all these assholes,” Changbin said, tipping back his champagne to finish off the rest. “That old bastard over there in the corner? He hasn’t stopped looking at your tits since we sat down.”

“Changbin!” you hissed, incredulous that he would say something like that aloud.

“What? I can’t blame him,” he said, eyeing the swell of your breasts with obvious interest. “How fast can I make you cum from playing with your tits if we snuck away into one of the bathrooms, princess?”

“Chan wants us to behave,” you replied, even though you were very much weak for Changbin’s lips wrapped around your sensitive nipples.

“He won’t even notice,” Changbin grumbled. “But at least he’s in a good mood. It’s a nice change from hearing him bitch all the time when he comes home from work.”

“It’s a stressful job,” you tried to defend your older boyfriend, but you and Changbin both knew that Chan was taking the extra work on purpose, hoping it might land him a promotion.

“You hate it just as much as I do,” Changbin argued, snatching another flute of champagne from a startled waiter, downing the contents in two sips.

“It makes him happy,” you said, shrugging while playing with the hem of your dress - an adorable satin present from Chan for your birthday this past year.

“So, we can’t be happy?” Changbin asked, and it was a fair question considering the amount of arguing that your boyfriends had been doing for the past several months. Everything from serious issues like buying a new apartment, to something as inconsequential as the quality of your kitchen silverware.

“This promotion thing can’t last forever,” you pointed out, ever one to be optimistic even when things seemed less than ideal.

“I just want to get out of these clothes,” Changbin complained, pinching at the tight material hugging his thighs. “I wear suits to work everyday, and I hate being forced to keep them on for shit like this.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to take it off for you when we get home,” you purred into Changbin’s ear, brushing your nose across the lobe.

“You better keep that promise,” Changbin growled in return, and you were thrilled by the look of lust in his gaze. Even more so when Chan finally returned to you both with a bright smile and glossed-over eyes, clearly the result of too much alcohol.

“Ready to leave?” he asked you both, and you had never seen Changbin more impatient to escape a party.

Once you were home, it didn’t take much to convince your boys to join you in the master bedroom - a few stray touches over clothes, whispered filtrations, and a quick flash of the expensive lingerie you wore underneath your dress before you found yourself kneeling between them on the bed.

Changbin had taken the initiative, kissing you like he was picking back up from where the two of you had left off from earlier that afternoon. And with some convincing, Chan agreed to share you tonight. Even though he still seemed grumpy about the fact that he couldn’t have you all to himself, but you were just glad that Chan was in a better mood, mouthing at your neck while Changbin unzipped your dress and drug it down your spine with his fingertips following the same direction.

“So good for us, princess,” Changbin said, taking a moment to look at you while Chan groped at your breasts through the thin material of your bra, nodding furiously when Changbin unlatched it from the back.

You allowed it to fall down your arms, leaving your entire upper half completely bare while you let Changbin drag you down onto the bed so that you were lying on your back with Chan dragging your panties down your legs. And Changbin had wrapped his arms around your torso, thumbs circling your nipples while he held you in an upright position, touching his lips against your shoulders.

“You made a mess, baby,” Chan remarked, and he spread your legs wide so that he could fuck into you with a grunt, starting an urgent pace from the second the head of his cock split your tight walls around him.

“Oh!” you gasped, loving the rough handling from the very start, feeling yourself press back against Changbin with every thrust, nipples brushing across Chan’s abdomen as he held himself over you.

It was pure heaven to be trapped between these two men, strong arms adjusting you to their liking, and thick cocks reaching places inside of you that had never been accessed before.

“Does he feel good?” Changbin asked you, collecting the tears streaming down your face as you savored the glide of Chan’s cock between your folds.

“Yes,” you managed between moans, reaching down to knot your fingers through Chan’s curls while your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, holding on for dear life as he used you to get himself off as quick as possible, cum dripping down onto the blankets underneath you.

And you came at the same time as your boyfriend, gasping for breath as Chan pulled out with a groan, supporting himself back against one of your pillows while Changbin brought you into his lap for his gentle touches, kissing the wet skin under your eyes and patiently waiting for your permission before he took his turn.

Oh, but you never minded these nights when your boyfriends were compliant enough to share you, taking their turn fucking you until you were barely coherent.

“Changbin,” you whispered to him, reaching down for his hard cock and giving his thick erection several strokes before guiding the tip to your entrance.

“Green?” Changbin asked, checking in with your colors because he was always so considerate whenever the three of you had sex.

“Green,” you confirmed, and he was using raw power to lift you off his lap, biceps straining, moving you up and down his cock without any resistance.

“Oh, fuck, princess,” Changbin groaned, looking down at the place where his cock disappeared inside your pussy with longing. “Even after Chan fucked you...how can you be this tight?”

You whined at the comment, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he powered his cock between your pulsing walls, swallowing his cock and urging him to take you even deeper, kissing the head of your cervix with a delightful prod of his tip.

Changbin was built so strong - after all, he worked out every afternoon - but it was almost ridiculous how easily he handled you, forcing you along his cock with complete ease...like you weighed absolutely nothing. But it was unbelievably hot, and you could feel your thighs straining with the effort of holding yourself up in place, even if he was doing most of the work.

But he was hitting all your best spots from this angle, and you had almost blacked out after Changbin started furiously stroking your clit, sending you into another high that pushed your head right through the clouds.

His cum joined Chan’s inside your sore pussy, and you could feel him softening despite the fact that your walls were still milking him for everything you could get.

“Greedy pussy,” Changbin panted, and you were almost proud of the fact that he looked just as exhausted as you did from your insane round of sex.

You were still breathing hard after your second orgasm of the night when you could feel the bed shift as Chan’s fingers dug into your hips, trying to force you away from Changbin. You whined in complaint because you weren’t quite ready for another round, squirming away from Chan and burying yourself even closer to Changbin’s warm chest.

Chan growled at your aversion, and you hesitantly glanced back over his shoulder to see that he wasn’t very happy with your unwillingness to let him have his next turn. “Gentle,” Changbin chided, and you whimpered when Chan’s strength won out and he manhandled you onto all fours, mounting you from behind before fucking his cock back inside without waiting for your compliance.

“Yellow, Chan,” you said, hoping that he would slow down, but it only seemed to spur Chan on even more, and he was practically bending you in half, pressing down on your lower back as his hips slammed against yours with every thrust.

“Stop,” Changbin snapped, and he shoved against Chan’s shoulder who wasn’t expecting the sudden weight, falling back onto the bed as his cock slipped free. “You’re being too rough,” Changbin said, and his eyes were narrowed at Chan as he pulled you closer, wrapping you into his arms and shushing your whimpers.

But Chan was even more pissed at Changbin’s interference, and you could only imagine the nasty look on his face as he spoke up from the opposite side of the bed. “You coddle her too much,” Chan said. “I know our limits.”

“Really?” Changbin snorted. “What kind of world do you live in where yellow means faster?”

“I would’ve stopped if she asked me to,” Chan said, and you were panicking on the inside because this sounded like the beginnings of another infamous fight between Chan and Changbin, and the two men were both stubborn and proud which meant that they could hold a grudge for weeks after an argument.

“Fuck, you just let her get away with whatever she wants,” Chan huffed. “She needs discipline!”

“She needs affection!”

“What the hell ever,” Chan snapped, and you watched him from the corner of your eye as he snatched his boxer shorts from the ground. “I can’t stand to look at you anymore tonight.”

“Good, maybe Y/N can have some peace without your negligent ass in the same room,” Changbin said, frowning when Chan shot him the middle finger over his shoulder on the way out, slamming the door to the bedroom closed with enough force to shake the entire apartment.

It wasn’t the first time that Chan and Changbin had fought with each other, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t give you any solace in the present, especially when fights between your boyfriends meant that your time was increasingly monopolized towards making sure that they didn’t do anything they might regret.

Of course, coming home after lunch with a friend, you weren’t expecting the detailed spreadsheet taped to the door of the master bedroom where you had been hoping to take a much-needed nap. “This is new,” you sighed, studying the worksheet outside the bedroom where a strict schedule dictated which of your two boyfriends would be sleeping with you - probably a product of Chan’s analytical brain.

On most occasions, whoever happened to fall asleep first would end up sleeping next to you in the bedroom, which had lately been Changbin because Chan often stayed up late to finish his work. However, given Chan’s competitive edge, you had a feeling that the two fought over this as well, resulting in the strict schedule that they would just expect you to accept.

“Chan!” you yelled, snatching the paper from the door while trying to track down your boyfriend.

You walked out into the living room, discovering Changbin standing next to the large sliding glass door which led outside to the veranda - glass of wine in hand. “Probably in his office,” Changbin muttered. “He’s had a stick up his ass all day.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you thought you had gotten used to Changbin’s dramatics. “Are you really drinking before noon?”

“I needed it,” Changbin whined, holding out an arm so that you could slide into place next to his side, snuggled against his broad chest. “I think it’s fine to celebrate a day off from work with wine.”

“Let me taste,” you said, allowing Changbin to tilt the glass against your lips, swallowing down the grape-flavored liquid, until the sight of Chan walking around the corner had you choking around your mouthful.

“Careful, princess,” Changbin chuckled, frowning when he met Chan’s gaze.

“You called me,” Chan said, holding a bag in one hand, and using the other to snatch you away from Changbin, pulling you down onto his lap on the couch as he kissed you fiercely, keeping Changbin within his sights.

“Yeah,” you said, gasping for breath when you were forced to part from him. “I found this on the door?”

You held up the spreadsheet, arching one brow in question, but Chan merely shrugged and ignored the piece of paper as he reached into his pocket for something. “Look what I got you,” Chan said, opening the velvet box to reveal a gorgeous diamond necklace inside.

“Channie,” you whined, allowing him to fuss with the clasp as he hooked it around your neck, letting the diamond fall against your collarbone. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, pulling you even closer when Changbin sat down his wine glass on the side table. “I wanted to do something nice for you, baby.”

Oh, so this was the version of Chan you were getting? The one who demanded all of your attention in a petty attempt to keep you away from Changbin. Too bad your younger boyfriend didn’t get the message, looming over the two of you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you done?” Changbin asked. “We had an agreement.”

“Duh, I’m not an idiot,” Chan snarked, keeping a smile on for you even as his shoulders tensed in anticipation of another brush with Changbin. “I’m with Y/N right now.”

“But it’s my night!” Changbin argued, and you felt like the metaphorical toy animal being torn in half by two less than willing siblings.

“The fucking sun is still up, smartass,” Chan said, sneering at Changbin as he dug his fingernails into your hips - a possessive gesture.

“You’re the one who thought making that stupid schedule would fix everything,” Changbin returned. “Y/N is mine!!”

“Boys!” you finally shouted, startling both of them as you forced yourself from Chan’s lap. “We’re not going to start this shit again, okay? I hate it when you both do this to me!”

“Princess..” Changbin whined, but his refusal to see reason wasn’t stopping your tirade, putting your foot down and ending this stupid argument before it got even worse - and it always did before there was any chance of it getting better.

“No, Changbin,” you said, keeping your tone stern. “Last night was everyone’s fault. We know better than to just walk out without communicating - you both agreed to talk to each other whenever you disagreed on something. And I’m not just gonna sit here this time and watch you two treat each other like shit until someone breaks down to apologize! This fight is pointless, and I’m not about to let the two of you dictate my time because you can’t get along! Fix this shit now or you both sleep in the living room!”

You exhaled loudly at the end, taking deep breaths because you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so agitated. But that’s what your boyfriends brought out of you in situations like this, and you left them behind to work whatever problems they had between each other before barricading yourself in the bedroom with a cold bottle of water and some ibuprofen.

You didn’t cry over them this time; after all, plenty of their arguments in the past had driven you to tears and you were tired of it. Instead, you ruminated in silence, staring up at the ceiling of the master bedroom while waiting for the day’s exhaustion to finally catch-up to you.

However, you certainly didn’t anticipate a knocking at the door, followed by the sudden penetration of light from outside as Chan and Changbin both entered the bedroom while wearing matching looks of shame. “We’re sorry, princess,” Changbin said, keeping his head down as Chan sighed.

“You’re right about us fighting,” Chan said, and he walked over to the edge of the bed, brushing his fingers across your arm. “We talked about it, and we both know that it was a stupid fight. You didn’t deserve to put up with our mess.”

You snorted in agreement, patting the bed on either side of you as Chan and Chan eagerly snuggled against you from both sides, even if it was a tight fit on your queen-sized mattress. “S’ okay,” you said, allowing them both a kiss. “I went overboard too.”

“Not as much as us,” Changbin said, and his hand was gripping tightly to one of yours.

“I’m used to your fights,” you said. “I just wish they wouldn’t happen.”

Changbin whined while Chan sat up a little to look down into your eyes. “You’re right, baby, and we’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Maybe even right now,” Changbin said, and his fingers teased the hem of your nightgown. “I think Chan and I can prove to you that we know how to play together.”

“I don’t know...” you trailed off, knowing full well you would eventually relent, especially once they started touching you - Changbin skimming his fingers across your thighs while Chan found your clit between the silky fabric of your gown. “Do you want me from both ends?” you asked, and you could tell that they both liked that idea.

“Let’s make sure you’re ready for us, princess,” Changbin said, and you moaned when his fingers disappeared under your gown to fill your pussy so well, working on stretching you for his impossible girth.

“Good boy,” you said, just to see Changbin blush while Chan worked hard to remove his clothes, fisting his cock as you let them both move you into position, helping Chan kneel down in front of you so that you could wrap your lips around his cock, tasting the precum already beaded on the tip.

Chan threw his head back with a groan as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, trying to ignore Changbin from behind you as he opened the bottle of lube, applying a liberal amount to his fingers before inserting his fingers again, moving along the walls of your tight cunt.

“I love your mouth, baby,” Chan said, staring down at where you were hollowing your cheeks, taking him so well as the tip of his cock repeatedly hit the back of your throat. You tried not to gag, even as saliva pooled from around your lips, dripping down your chin and Chan’s cock.

“Are you ready for me?” Changbin asked, and you whimpered when Changbin’s cock penetrated you as you sunk down on him, groaning as his thickness stretched you to the point where you felt like he was in your stomach.

Chan was surprisingly gentle as he waited for you to adjust, only moving his hips at the same time as Changbin, and the three of you fell into a rhythm: once Changbin thrust his cock into you, Chan pulled you even further down his own erection, stuffing your mouth to the point where you couldn’t even hear yourself moan.

They used you like you were pliable, simply existing to satisfy them as you moved back and forth between the two men you loved. “You like this, don’t you, princess?” Changbin asked, grunting low in his chest as he started to pick up the pace, making it even harder to handle Chan’s full length in your mouth, sucking on his pulsating erection like your entire life depended on it.

“She does,” Chan replied for you, since your mouth was full of him, but you could tell that he was close, supporting yourself against his thighs as you waited for him to spill down your throat.

“Touch her clit,” Changbin said, holding your hips to help piston his cock at just the right angle, and you were barely coherent when Chan instantly obeyed - bringing his thumb down to rub circles on the little bud that always brought you the most pleasure.

Full at both ends, with your clit and g-spot being stimulated just right, you were barely hanging on by a thread. But you didn’t want to cum first; thankfully, Chan came just before you failed to keep yourself together, emptying his release down your sore throat before focusing entirely on getting you off. And when Chan was determined to do something, he was always successful.

“Channie!” you cried, reaching a bombastic orgasm that had you nearly blacking out because Chan was still working your clit while Changbin continued to pound your little ass, working himself to fill you up with his cum.

“Changbin,” you gasped, trying to hold on so that he could release where he wanted, and it only took a few more pumps of his hips before his cum was filling you to the brim, leaking down your thighs as soon as Changbin pulled himself free, collapsing next to you on the bed.

“Fuck that was amazing,” Changbin said, and both he and Chan helped clean you up before holding you as best they could between one another on your too-small bed, but the lack of space did nothing to deter the fact that it still was the best aftercare you had ever experienced.

But here’s one argument you could prevent in the future: who gets to sleep with you at night without forcing everyone to deal with a cramped space.

After your night of passionate lovemaking, you convinced Chan and Changbin that it was time to invest in a bed big enough for all three of you to share at night. Which is why you found yourself in the middle of a furniture store, perusing the endless options while Changbin quipped about the music selection playing overhead.

“What about this one?” you gasped, falling in love with the mahogany-colored wood frame, running your hand along the smooth surface before falling down onto the mattress, giggling when Changbin joined you.

Chan sighed as he scrutinized the display sign while you and Changbin rolled onto the bed together, stretching out your limbs because the king-sized mattress was enormous! “It’s amazing,” you continued, trying not to scream when Changbin started to dig his fingers in your sides playfully.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out of here,” Chan said, ever the responsible adult between the three of you.

“Well, we have to see if it works,” you pointed out, patting the space behind you as Chan rolled his eyes but crawled in next to you, warming you from behind while Changbin nuzzled into your neck. “This feels nice,” you said, allowing your boyfriends to spoon you from both sides.

“I like it too,” Changbin commented, smooching a kiss across your lips when you weren’t expecting it, whining because it was wet and messy.

“It’s a little out of our price range...” Chan ventured, but all you had to do was turn to look at him with your best pleading expression, and he was breaking down with a muttered curse while reaching for his wallet.

The next morning, you woke-up with Changbin holding you from behind, frowning when you realized that Chan must’ve stayed up late to finish his cases.

It defeated the purpose of waking up together, but at least you had fallen asleep with both of your boyfriends, and that was as fine of a start as any you could imagine. Hopefully, when Chan managed to calm down at work, you could enjoy those mornings you were imagining, smiling at both Changbin and Chan as you exchanged kisses and cuddles under the warm blankets.

“Mmm,” Changbin hummed from behind you, squeezing your waist while trying to open his eyes. “What time is it?”

“9,” you said, pecking his nose as he reluctantly let go of you, realizing that he had to be at work soon.

“Shower with me?” Changbin asked, and you hardly needed any convincing to join your muscular boyfriend underneath the warm pressure of the water, allowing him to run a bar of soap over your body, lingering around your breasts and the needy heat between your legs.

Afterward, the two of you walked into the kitchen together, and you discovered that Chan was already waiting with breakfast displayed on your finest plates. He watched you both as Changbin sat down at the table first so that he could perch you on his lap, holding you close while reaching for one of the croissants from the center basket. He started breaking off little pieces, bringing them up to your mouth to feed you while Chan seethed at the affectionate display.

“You’re being too nice,” you commented, allowing him a single kiss before he continued to dote on you, ignoring Chan who was mumbling about how there was a perfectly fine chair that you could sit on.

“Anything for my princess,” Changbin said, and you sighed because it was incredibly cheesy, but that was an endearing part of Changbin’s flirtations.

“Thank you, Binnie,” you said, puckering your lips for another kiss while you heard Chan muttering a curse from across the table. “Shall I clean up?” you asked once both men had their fill, grabbing the dirty dishes and carrying them over to the sink so that you could take care of them later.

In the meantime, you thought it might be nice to sit with your boyfriends for a while before they left for work, but you soon realized that a pleasant conversation was the last thing on Chan’s mind. And you gasped when Chan turned you around, bending you over the table and pulling your panties down your legs, spreading your thighs with his feet as he worked on his belt.

Changbin simply smirked at Chan’s actions, reading over the newspaper that he had stolen from Chan while sipping at his coffee - like it was just another casual morning in your shared household.

Perhaps it was true, but you couldn’t help the first moan that slipped free from your lips when his cock filled you with a pleasant stretch. “How does that feel, baby?” Chan asked taunting you with little rolls of his hips that were far too teasing for your liking.

“Faster,” you begged him, and he seemed to be in one of those moods where he ignored what you wanted, pulling out slowly and repeating the sensual motions over and over again at a snail’s pace, keeping you just dangling from what would drive you to the edge.

But Chan was being petty after putting up with Changbin’s doting, refusing to just give-in and pound you onto his cock like you knew he could. Instead, you could tell that he was punishing you for not sitting at the table earlier, forcing him to watch you swoon over Changbin. And jealous Chan was a greedy lover, which meant that every time Changbin so much as glanced in your direction, Chan was trying to shield your body from his gaze, burying his face into the side of your neck as his cock stroked your insides so well.

“Don’t get cum on the floor,” Changbin said, peeking at you from over the top of the paper. “It’s hard to clean.”

It was a throwaway comment, but Chan didn’t take well to Changbin’s interruption, and he started moving even faster, forcing more moans to leave your lips as he started hitting your g-spot perfectly on every thrust. “Like you haven’t done it before,” Chan growled in return, hands holding your hips so tight as he pummeled you against the table, bruising your hips on each stroke that forced you to collide with the rough wood.

It felt so good, even the pain from his touch and the table, and the added stimulation of Chan’s fingers moving messily around your clit - everything was guiding you by a string to the precipice. And you were more than willing to follow that string to the end, falling off the edge with an explosion of ecstasy, coming around Chan's cock with a stuttered gasp of his name.

Your boyfriend grunted when you squeezed his cock so good, lips pressing against the back of your neck as he came inside, and you both remained in that position for a few moments longer, savoring the delicious release, until Changbin slammed down the newspaper and stood up to get you both a towel.

The remainder of the day progressed uneventfully, and you were still preoccupied with your freelance work by the time your boyfriends came home.

Chan must’ve went straight to the office, but you followed your nose to Chanbin who was standing in the kitchen over the stove. “Are you cooking tonight?” you asked Changbin, leaning into his weight as he smiled and offered you a gentle peck in return.

“Well, it was supposed to be Chan’s night, but I didn’t want to bother him when he got home,” Changbin explained.

“He must be in a bad mood,” you remarked, keeping yourself perched on the counter-top next to Changbin as he grilled.

“Go check on him,” Changbin suggested, giving your ass a teasing slap when you hopped down from the counter.

But it was far too quiet when you stood outside of the office, holding your breath once you knocked and received no response.

“Chan?” you asked, opening the door to the office so that you could step inside the room.

You frowned when you discovered that Chan was sitting at his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen as his fingers made a mess of his curly locks. “Are you okay?” you asked him, and the sound of your voice interrupted whatever strange reverie he must’ve been locked inside.

But the look on his face sent a shiver down your spine. “What did I say about interrupting me while I’m working?” Chan growled, forcing you to bend over his lap as he pulled up the hem of your t-shirt, exposing your ass to him.

“Chan...”

“Y/N,” he replied, and you relaxed when you realized that his tone wasn’t angry - he was just looking for a way to relieve his frustration.

“I’m sorry I came in here,” you said, playing along with his charade.

“It’s too late for apologies,” Chan said. “How many do you think you deserve?”

“Ten?” you asked, wincing when Chan hummed in response and started to rub his hand over your ass.

“I think that’s sufficient,” he agreed before giving you the first slap - a sharp stinging pain that went straight to the wet arousal decorating the front of your panties. “Make sure you count for me.”

“One,” you whispered, closing your eyes and relishing the closeness to your boyfriend’s evident excitement - erection already straining through his jeans.

“Good girl,” Chan said, and the next three hits were much harder than the first, filling the room with the sound of skin-on-skin and your stuttered counting, gritting your teeth through the pain laced with something erotic.

You wondered if Changbin was curious about your absence, or if he just assumed that something like this would happen: you stretched out across Chan’s lap, his cock digging into your stomach, while he imprinted his hand across your ass.

“Ten,” you eventually exhaled, sucking in a sharp breath when Chan grabbed you by your hair, curling his fingers through the strands while forcing your head to look at him, colliding your lips together in a messy exchange of tongue and teeth.

“Look at you,” Chan said when you broke apart for air, hoisting you higher on his lap to bring your back against his chest, shoving his hand down the front of your panties to run his fingers through your wet folds.

“Right there,” you gasped when he inserted an index finger to the knuckle, using his thumb to canvas rough patterns of circles against your throbbing clitoris.

“I’ll finish you off, baby,” Chan growled into your ear. “But I expect you to return the favor.”

“I will, Channie,” you promised him, whining when he pulled his fingers from your panties, gripping you beneath your underarms to help you turn around on his lap.

“At the same time,” he said, reaching down to unbuckle his pants and free his engorged length.

You moaned when he held himself at the base of his erection, rubbing his tip against your clit, stroking himself with a tight fist while you used one hand to ground yourself against his shoulder.

Eventually, you took over from him, pleasuring his cock so that he could return his attention to your needy cunt, inserting two fingers this time and giving your clit the pressure you needed to cum spiraling out of control, dropping your head against his chest as you finished him off - feeling his release drip down your hand.

“Y/N,” Chan grunted, and you managed to look at him when he kissed you again - something sweet and soft that melted you. Because kisses like this were rare from Chan, and you figured it had something to do with the fact that Changbin wasn’t around to tease him.

“I think dinner will be ready soon,” you whispered against him, leaning back to offer him a smile since the one you received in return reached every warm part inside of you.

When you and Chan emerged from the office, Changbin made a grand ceremony out of his latest concoction - some kind of stew that was meant to be really healthy.

But the smell was questionable, and Chan grimaced after his first bite. “Uh, what the hell is this supposed to be?”

“You don’t like it?” Changbin asked, looking at you for a second opinion, and you forced a smile while taking another bite.

“It’s good, Binnie,” you reassured him, and Chan frowned at your blatant lie while Changbin smirked in that self-satisfying way of his that always promised a good time for you later on.

Still, the three of you managed to have an amiable dinner, talking about everything from Chan’s work to your latest freelance projects. There was a good atmosphere following the end of your meal, and you promised Changbin that you would help him clean-up, following him into the kitchen with a smirk.

You both started on the dishes together, but you made sure to tease him at every opportunity, brushing your hands and fingers together when he handed you a plate, or rubbing your chest against his back whenever you walked between the counters.

Eventually, Changbin gave-up on his practiced indifference, looking at you with a playful gaze. “Is there something you want?” Changbin asked, and you didn’t even need to say anything as you dropped down onto your knees in front of him. “Did you like dinner that much?” Changbin chuckled, but you ignored him while working down the zipper of his jeans, reaching inside for his half-hard cock before giving yourself a taste of his beading precum.

Changbin inhaled at the first touch of pleasure, bracing his arms back against the counter while he watched you work your magic with hooded eyes. “Was this your plan all along, princess?” he asked, but you knew that Changbin was a big talker whenever it came to one of your legendary blowjobs, and you continued to ignore him while taking as much of his girthy length as you could manage, feeling your lips part around him as you relaxed your jaw and throat.

“Can I takeover?” Changbin asked, and you gave a quick nod before one of his hands was coming down to grab your hair, thrusting his hips to force the rest of his length into your warm mouth, forcing you to gag at the sudden intrusion. “So good,” Changbin whispered, throwing back his head with a moan.

It made you feel good too - knowing that Changbin was taking so much pleasure from your mouth, tongue tracing the slit at his tip because you knew that he was extra sensitive there. And Changbin reacted just as you thought he would - growling out your name as he lost all control and jerked his hips back and forth to get the most out of what you were offering to him.

You would have a killer sore throat in the morning, but it was worth it to see the blissed-out look on Changbin’s face, watching him cum with a mumbled curse around your name.

“I guess I’ll have to cook more often,” Changbin remarked, pulling you up onto your feet to kiss away your tears.

Later on, you sat between your sated boyfriends on the couch, watching some sort of Christmas movie on TV while disregarding the popcorn that Chan had made.

But your eyes were starting to grow heavier, leaning more of your weight against Changbin as you tried not to fall asleep. It was starting to get late, and you knew that Chan had noticed the signs of your exhaustion when he turned to look at you for a moment before looking back at the film. “Bed, Y/N,” Chan said, still staring at the TV and ignoring the way you cuddled even closer to Changbin.

“She can stay up until the movie ends,” Changbin said, carding his fingers through your hair.

“She’ll feel like shit when she wakes up early in the morning,” Chan retorted.

You frowned when you sensed another argument between them. “Let’s have a bath together,” you suggested, breathing a sigh of relief when they both reluctantly agreed.

“But then you’re going to bed,” Chan inserted, and you rolled your eyes but agreed with him.

It was just Chan’s way of looking after you, and the three of you walked to the bathroom together, Chan working on getting the water to the perfect temperature while you and Changbin made a big show of taking off the other’s clothes, running your hands across bare skin and kissing him with tired eyes.

“Go ahead,” Chan said, starting to remove his own shirt and pants while Changbin sunk down beneath the water first with a groan, holding out his hand for you.

“Thank you, Binnie,” you said, feeling nothing short of affectionate as you offered him another kiss before you sensed Chan making himself comfortable behind you.

You squealed when Chan wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest while Changbin reached for your discarded razor from the sink, supporting one leg against the tile while he started to run the blade across the expanse of your skin.

“Comfortable, princess?” Changbin asked, and you nodded your head in agreement.

“We should do this more often,” you said, smiling when Chan started to massage some of your shampoo into your hair.

“But not too late,” Chan reminded you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed by him; after all, he was only trying to take care of you - they both were - and you could think of no better ending to a chaotic afternoon than the situation you found yourself in - enjoying the presence of both your boyfriends as they showed you just how much they loved you.

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stories2you · 4 years ago

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Mother’s Day

**Reposted from: @mayuarts

So, @myubunziii and I decided to write this long fic for mother’s day. Which obviously came out waaaaaaay later than expected.

Do note, in this AU, Kiro and Youran (MC) are siblings.

Note: mentions of attempts on suicide, illegitimate child, depression, PTSD.

(A/N) - Actor’s Name (V/A) - Veteran Actress *I can’t think of any names :’) ** This has not been proofread, so I apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors. ***Song used: SNSD - Dear Mom.

Kiro was getting his hair styled in the waiting room. Not long after, a knock was heard on his door. His agent opened the door, revealing Gavin and the two teens. The girls smiled happily and rushed to him.

“Good morning, Uncle Chips~!” The sisters greeted. Kiro grinned and greeted them back as he ruffled their hair,

“Good morning, mini Chips!” The girls giggled at that old nickname that their uncle had given them during their childhood. Kiro didn’t waste any more time and shooed his nieces to the stylists waiting for them.

As the girls left, the blond turned to his brother-in-law, “Youran doesn’t know that you’re here, right?” Gavin nodded. He then shrugged, “She rushed out this morning before I finished breakfast.”

Kiro chuckled at those words. It’s to be expected of his twin sister. She was always on the run and rushing everywhere to attend to her duties. Much more after the sisters had enrolled into high school.

~ time skip ~

They only had light make up applied and their hair styled. Their hair was styled similarly, just that Alina only let her hair down whereas her sister had her hair tied up into a braid. Their outfits complemented the occasion and their hidden elegance.

When they went out of the dressing room, they caught the attention of their father and maternal uncle. Kiro’s jaw dropped as he saw how beautiful his nieces are. He smiled warmly as he noticed their natural beauty that they had inherited from their mother.

Gavin, on the other hand, became speechless. Not only their outfit shows their hidden elegance but their maturity as well. He realized how much his dear daughters had grown.

The sisters blushed at the attention they got from them. Before they could speak, the door suddenly opened, revealing a panting Shaw. After he closed the door, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened,

“Wow… You’re so beautiful. Just like your mother.” He said with his usual cheeky smile on his face.

He placed the bag of presents under the dressing table and sat on the couch beside his brother. Gavin could only stare at him, “What happened?”

Shaw’s smile suddenly became crooked, “She almost spotted me.”

“You idiot…” Gavin sighed. He then stood up and went to where his daughters were standing. He reached out and brushed their bangs gently, “You heard your uncle, you both are so beautiful.”

Alina and Aiyana giggled. Then Gavin pulled out two designed boxes. He opened both of them, revealing a shining golden gingko hairpin. Similar to the ones he presented to them when they were younger. The man pinned the hairpins onto the girls’ hair.

“Dad, did you input another tracker?” Aiyana asked with a cheeky smile on her face.

Gavin smirked and shrugged, “Well, keep it on if you wanna know.”

Just then, Kiki peeked into the waiting room, “Kiro, get ready, we’re starting in five.” Before she left, she waved to the sisters.

Kiro gave a thumbs up to the girls and quickly left to the set, leaving the girls and the Bai brothers. Not long after, Savin turns on the television connecting to the screen. Showing the starting of the talk show. The set was dimly lit, with only a shadowed figure standing at the center.

Suddenly a light shined onto Kiro’s figure. He showed his signature grin and started to perform one of his biggest hits. About five minutes later, he introduced himself,

“Hello everyone! It’s Kiro! It’s been quite a while, isn’t it? As for today, I’m the guest emcee for today’s talk show! Without further ado, let us invite our mother-child guests!”

All three pairs of mother-child celebrities came into the set, waving to the audience with bright smiles on their faces. They all took their places while Kiro stood at the side. Kiro then ushers them to introduce themselves. The first pair introduced themselves,

“Hello everyone, I am (A/N), the only child of veteran actress, (V/A). Thank you for inviting us and let us have a great time together!” The young man smiled and gave a short fanservice which made the fangirls swoon.

His mother smiled and nudged him playfully. Then the second pair introduced themselves as a pair of voice acting duo. The second mother-son said short lines from their recent anime which their roles are mother and son as well.

Lastly, the third pair of mother and daughter introduced themselves. The female rookie idol and the veteran sang a short duet.

After the introduction of the guests, Kiro started the segment of the day, Mother’s Day,

“As you have known, today’s talk is about appreciating our mothers. Are there any stories for the young celebrities to share about your mothers?” Kiro asked to the guests.

The first guest, (A/N), smiled and decided to share bits of his childhood, “My mother never forces anything on me. When I told her that I wanted to become an actor, she straight up sent me to an acting school. One of the downfalls I had was the pressure of memorizing the lines and acting it out. But my mother, she would continue to encourage me and help me fill the spots I missed while acting. That’s why… No matter how hard the roles I was given, I’m willing to act it out the best I can with my mother’s guidance.” The man then turned to look at his mother, he took a box underneath the table, presenting it to her,

“Mom, I can never thank you enough for brining me into this world. Your love, care and guidance is what brings me here. I love you mom.” The (V/A) smiled and hugged her son tightly in her arms.

Sobs can be heard from the audience. Kiro smiled at the sight and decided to move on to the next guest, “How ‘bout you? Is there anything you would like to share to your fans?”

The male idol smiled sadly, “This may be triggering but I would like to share this anyway. To show how much one’s life really means to your mother. The strong woman who bore her children for 9 months.”

He paused for a moment and took a breath, “I was a suicidal individual. I was always harassed and bullied for being a bastard child. To clarify this, I am not a bastard child. I lost my father at a very young age. People not only call me a child out of wedlock, they also spread false rumors about my mother. When I was scouted, almost all trainees recognized me for being the son of a veteran voice actress. They started bullying me both physically and verbally.

At one point, I couldn’t handle the pain and resorted to cutting and consume sleeping pills.” He sighed and cooled himself again, “One day, my mother saw all the pills and scars on my arms. She stopped me and showered all her love to me. She even begged me not to take away my own life. After that day, she brought me to a professional psychiatrist and always reminded me that I am loved. That I don’t need to satisfy others but myself.”

The voice actor looked to the audience with bravery, “In life, there’s ups and downs. There’s no need to satisfy others. One does not need support from others. The main supporter of your life is your beloved ones, including your mother.” He looked towards his mother and took out a bouquet of flowers from the side of his seat, “Mom, I’m sorry. I worried you from my rash decisions. I promise that I’ll be a better son and thank you. Thank you for your endless love.”

The voice actress shed tears and took the bouquet from his hands, “Dear son, love yourself like how you love your fans and I.”

More sobs and tears were shed. Youran, who had been standing beside Anna, shed tears at the story. She recently had nightmares of her youngest child taking her own life. She had always wanted to comfort her, but Aiyana would only smile and say she was okay. More worries filled in her heart and tears were suddenly released from her eyes. She watched the last guests telling her story of being a sick child,

“I spent most of my childhood in the hospital. I had complications on my heart, making me go through so many procedures. My mother was the sole breadwinner of my family. My father was falsely accused but was sent to the prison. Luckily, he was released from his charges a few days after I was discharged from the hospital. But I can never show my appreciation enough to my mother. She worked extra hard on producing her own songs and performing them on every music shows. She even took the task of producing songs for idol groups.”

The young rookie took out a box of chocolates and handed it to her mother, “Mom, thank you for your hard work. Thank you for making your fans and I happy. You produce beautiful music and you gave me a chance to live from your music. I would’ve not survived without your love.”

Her mother took the box of chocolates, and the rookie continued, “That box of chocolates are the ones you’ve always wanted to try. I hope you love it~”

The soloist opened the box and ate a piece. She felt touched, knowing that the chocolates were not bought but were handmade by her own daughter. She then pulled her young daughter into a tight hug. She then said into her daughter’s ear, “I would trade anything for your life. As long as you are here, I’m happy.”

Kiro had a warm smile on his face as he listened to the stories. But a small part of him felt sad as he recalled the day his dear sister cried for her little one,

“Kiro… What should I do? No matter how much I try to comfort Aiyana, she would only smile and said that she’s okay. But I know she isn’t… Am I a bad mother? Am I always neglecting my children?”

The blond was heartbroken when he heard those words. He even talked to Gavin about this. The cop himself had the same questions in his mind,

“Am I not a good father? Have I gone away for too long?”

He mentally hyped up himself and gave a bright smile, “Now that everyone has shared their stories, let us continue appreciating our mothers and loving ourselves more. Now moving on to the last and surprise segment of the day, let us invite our special guest up on stage! Give a round of applause to our main producer, Youran!!”

The producer’s eyes widened and she tilted her head to the side in confusion. She looked to Anna beside her. The older lady only gave her a smile, “Go on. We’ll handle things here.”

She then takes Youran’s files from her hands. Before Youran could move forward, a familiar large hand was placed on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Gavin smiling down at her, “Come on, Kiro’s waiting.”

He guided her up to the set. The audience and the guests awed at the sight of the couple. Kiro walked to the center and held his hand out to his sister. She took his hand and her husband walked out of the set.

“Kiro… What is this? This isn’t in the production plan!” She whispered to her brother.

Kiro only gave her his trademark smile, “You’ll see~”

He then faced the audience, “Now, now. That’s not the only surprise.” Suddenly the lights dimmed and a familiar song started playing. Kiro bend down slightly to his sister’s height, “Don’t turn around until the song ends.”

He slowly left his sister’s side. When he stood at his usual spot, he spotted Gavin bringing his daughters on the stage and the audience cheered for the girls’ appearance. Youran looked even more confused. But then her confusion faded away when she heard her daughters’ voices;

(Ai) For some reason, today feels difficult and exhausting (Al) For some reason it feels empty today The suddenly ringing phone surprises me I hear your voice, asking me if I ate today (Ai) Those words that annoyed me, feel different today And I remember all the forgotten promises I’ve made

I will become a warm hearted person I will become a person that puts others first I will fulfill the wishes of your love The person I share my dreams with The one who used to comb my hair I think of my mom

Youran could feel her tears weld up again in her eyes. She smiled at the lyrics as all the memories of her daughters replayed in her mind. They’d call for her every five minutes, wanting to come with her to her office, asking her to do their hair and more. She felt her heart tighten when she listened to the next verse.

(Al) Sometimes I hurt you because of my wrong decisions But you quietly watched over me from afar (Ai) Although I’m still a young and clumsy child, I think That now I understand the meaning of your silent prayers (Al) What should I do? My heart is still so small (Ai) If I let go of your hand, I’m not sure if I can make it I don’t think I’m ready yet, I’m scared

The mother could hear her daughters’ voice starting to quiver. She could feel their fear and guilt. How much they still needed her by their side.

I will become a wise daughter (Al: Give me courage) I will be a daughter you can be proud of (Ai: You’ve been there for me) I will fulfill the wishes of your love With all the love that you have shown me I will have a warm heart

She then felt two pairs of arms wrapping around her and her tears finally fell.

I was too shy to express it… Mom, I truly love you…

The sisters released their mother from their embrace. Youran turned around and saw her daughters smiling at her. Alina spoke up before she could, “Mom, I’m sorry for not answering your calls when I’m away for college. I promise to be a better daughter and I’ll do my best to follow your steps to become a good artist and producer!”

Aiyana wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, “Mom… I’m sorry for keeping my feelings to myself. I’m sorry for making you worry. I promise that I’ll let out my thoughts. Thank you for being there for me.”

Youran smiled with her tears still flowing. She brought her daughters into her embrace, “Thank you for this surprise, my dears. Mom loves you more than anything. I’ll never let go of your hands whenever and wherever you both will be.”

Gavin smiled at the scene right in front of him. He realized how much both he and his wife had come this far of raising these two troublemakers. He himself didn’t know that both Kiro and Shaw had planned this secretly with Minor and the rest behind both of his and Youran’s back.

When Kiro finally wrapped up the show, everyone left the set happily and the girls even get to take pictures with the guests. The two were even offered to collab with the rookie idol. Though the two of them can only smile and just gave the idol a neutral answer.

~ Time skip ~

After the show, the sisters quickly changed into their casual clothes. They went out to the exit of the studio and saw their parents talking. They decided to eavesdrop for a moment,

“Gavin, thank you. You and the girls surprised me more than enough.” Youran smiled as she looked up to her husband.

Gavin wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, “You should thank the girls and your brother for this. I only helped in the sidelines.”

The sisters looked at each other and grinned. They ran and gave a surprise back hug to their parents. “We’re happy to sing more songs for you, mom!” Aiyana smiled happily. Gavin had a playful pout on his face,

“Only for mom? What about dad?”

“We’ll record it for you to listen when you’re away~” Alina giggled. “Of course, we’ll never leave our hero out!”

The family of four had a wonderful ride back home. The girls shared stories of their school life and whatever their uncles are up to whenever they stayed over. The couple smiled and laughed along with them. Meanwhile in Youran’s mind, she couldn’t thank God for this wonderful and blessed day.

At home, they crashed on the couch together. Alina and Aiyana in between their parents. Gavin took out his phone and decided to order some take out. While he was on it, Alina stood up and took the paper bag that she received from Shaw earlier that day. She brought it over and handed it to her mother,

“Mom, open it.”

Youran opened the blue rectangular box. Her brown eyes shined as she saw the customized necklace which had her birthstone locket. She opened the pendant and saw the photo of her and her daughters at one side, the other had a photo of her and Gavin with the girls as an infant.

Alina put on the locket around her mother’s neck. Youran gave her a warm smile and opened up the purple box. Aiyana prepared her newly released novel. She had a tint of red on her cheeks, making her resemble her father. Youran picked up the book and read the summary, it was about a young teen who was struggling with PTSD since her childhood. She had ups and downs. The one who always held her hand, guiding her towards happiness, was her mother.

Youran had a bitter smile, knowing that this was based on their life story. Her smile brightens when she read the summary of the last volume, the girl found her happiness by achieving her dreams. It wasn’t a cliché story.

‘I’ll make this into a drama,’ Youran thought.

She then pulled her daughters into a tight hug, “Thank you dearies, I love it. Aiyana, I’ll read your novel and give you my opinions, okay? I’ll even make this into a drama!”

Aiyana blushed and giggled, “Alright~ It hasn’t been officially released yet… so you got the first batch.” Her mother had a bright smiled and caressed her hair, “I’m honored to be able to read this before others.”

She placed the novel set on the table and shooed her daughters away, “Now go and shower. The food will arrive soon.”

“Okay~!”

After they rushed off, Gavin already had a wrapped gift placed on his lap. Youran tilted her head and pointed at the gift, “And what would that be, dear?”

The officer shrugged and handed the gift to his wife, “See it for yourself.”

She unwrapped the gift and was greeted with the beautiful journal album. She opened the said album and the first page had a handwritten letter by her husband. She almost teared up when she read the words, “Thank you for being the mother of my children.”

The photos inside the album were placed like a timeline. Starting from Alina and Aiyana’s childhood days until their high school graduation. Youran had a nostalgic smile as she flipped through the album. She then placed the album on the table and pulled her husband into her arms.

They stayed like that for a moment. Youran pulled away and kissed him passionately. Her endless love conveyed in the kiss. Gavin pulled her tighter in his arms.

Unbeknownst to them, two mischievous girls had taken a video and a photo of them smooching. Usual sibling things.

Thank you, mom.

We went overboard with this. I had to edit out some parts and plan a suitable scene. :’)

I hope you enjoy. Requests are open, and I’ll do my best to post it as soon as possible!

#mlqc #mldd #youran #bai qi #zhou qiluo #li zeyan #xu mo #ling xiao #mlqc gavin #mlqc youran #mlqc shaw #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc scenario #mlqc fluff #mlqc angst #mother's day special fic

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hongism · 5 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ 3.5

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 1.7k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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mists of celeste act one ➻ part 3.5

Yunho hums as he works, hands coming through the head of hair before him as he rubs dye over each strand with great care. It’s almost therapeutic in a way, but it does nothing to take his mind off the patient who is still unconscious in the med bay. He has no shortage of confidence over his abilities; he fixed your arm up to near perfection, the best he could do given the circumstance, and in a short amount of time as well. That isn’t what bothers him though. You’ve been unconscious for days since the operation. Well, it’s only been two days to be exact, but your fever hasn’t broken yet and that concerns Yunho more than he’d like to admit.

It’s a damn fever. He should know how to cure one within hours, but all the medicines he tried did nothing to curb the fever so he settled for waiting for it to break instead. While he still can’t understand why exactly the medicines didn’t work, it feels too much like a failure. He doesn’t fail. Ever. It’s not even a possibility.

Yunho must be rubbing too vigorously at the head under his hands, because the owner leads forward and twists to look back at him.

“Sorry,” he says through a small smile. Mingi blinks back at him, eyes wide as ever in wonder and curiosity. Yunho expects the question before he asks it and braces himself for the next words to leave the young Berserker’s mouth.

“What are you feeling right now?”

“Confusion,” Yunho answers, maintaining his grin. Mingi glances away and stares down at the floor for a few moments.

“The aura feels weird.”

“Is it affecting you badly?”

“No… no. I just don’t understand it.” Mingi settles back into the chair comfortably again, and Yunho returns to his methodical motions on his hair. Each blonde strand gets a thick coating of pale brown dye. Yunho watches the dye coat the hair underneath with little interest, barely aware of his hand going over the same piece over and over again. A sigh escapes him. It prompts Mingi to shift again, but before he turns around, Yunho drops a hand to his shoulder.

“Stay put or you’ll make a mess.”

“Could you explain it?”

“What? Hair dye?”

“No, no. What has you so conflicted?”

“Ah,” Yunho exhales. He hesitates before speaking again, eyes trailing towards the ceiling as he mulls over his next words. “You remember what I told you about feeling concerned, right?”

“Yeah, somewhat. How when people spend time together, they begin to care for each other. Then if something bad happens to one of them, the other gets worried or anxious about their well-being. Like… uh, how I feel when Hongjoong leaves for a dangerous mission. Thinking that he might get hurt. That’s concern.”

“Exactly, yes.” Yunho smiles at the back of Mingi’s head. “Well, sometimes you can be concerned about people you’ve just met.”

“You mean the girl in the med bay?”

“Yes, yes, her. I–”

“How can you be concerned about someone you don’t know? Is that still concern or is it something else? Is there another word for it?”

“Hold on, Mingi. I’m going to explain just be patient.” Yunho smacks the side of Mingi’s head, a risky move maybe, but he knows Mingi won’t lash out like he used to. They’ve come a long way since then, nearly six years or maybe more than that. Yunho knows that he is good at many things, but keeping track of time is not one of those things. Despite all that time, it’s still a lengthy and arduous process to help Mingi understand even basic emotions and morals, but at least he shows interest in learning about them. “Since I’m a doctor, I feel a responsibility towards my patients. I know I have the ability to heal them, but there are some things I can’t fix. Sometimes I can’t fix them even using tried and true methods. Even if I don’t know them, I feel a sense of duty to heal them. It’s my job, right?”

“Why not just put them out of their misery then?”

Yunho purses his lips at the question. It’s one that Mingi asks time and time again, and he shouldn’t be surprised that the man is bringing it up again here and now. Still, he wishes he could get through to the Berserker. As much as he tries to exercise patience with Mingi, he does grow tired of answering the same question over and over again like this.

“That’s not right, Mingi. I can’t kill a patient in good conscience, meaning that if they even have a sliver of a chance of surviving then I will take that chance. It’s a risk but one taken with good intentions. My job as a doctor is to save people not kill them.”

“Then I’ll kill her. Save you the trouble.” Mingi moves to get out of his seat. Yunho lunges forward, grabbing hold of his shoulder and tugging him back down to the chair again. He releases a small bout of laughter that echoes how nervous Mingi’s hasty actions made him. “Why?”

“Because even if you deliver the blow, the blame is still on my shoulders.”

“That’s not what they taught me in the arenas.”

“The arenas… they were different. They bred you to kill without thought or feeling, did they not?”

“Yeah, but it was easy.”

“For you, Mingi. They raised you to not feel any emotions and not to think for yourself. But I – that’s not how I was raised, remember?”

Mingi glances back at the healer, eyes wide as ever, and Yunho sighs at the sight of the blankness in his eyes. Of course, he doesn’t remember. Yunho has to remind himself to be a bit more patient; years of patience may not be enough. He hasn’t spent every waking moment of the last six years with Mingi at his side. No, the first three years were spent in a strange limbo where the two neglected to speak to each other one on one. Rather their time was filled with curious glances and passing comments made to a group of people rather than to each other.

If someone asked Yunho to pinpoint the exact moment in which they began speaking to each other, he would not be able to. That time is mostly a blur of faces coming in and out of his life with haste; the only true constants were San and Wooyoung. He frankly didn’t speak much with the other members who still remain on the crew around that time either. He was just a shut-in, to put it simply. Spent all his time in the med bay, rarely even coming out to get food because Wooyoung would always bring it by for him. He and Wooyoung were a lot more similar back then, before Yunho started branching out and being more comfortable with other people. Wooyoung would just spend all his time at Yeosang’s side, hand in his wherever they went, and on the rare occasion that Wooyoung wouldn’t be there, he would be in the med bay with Yunho.

Mingi, on the other hand, was never around much. At least not that Yunho noticed. Hongjoong’s side. That’s the place he saw Mingi the most, and that’s always where he expected him to be. The fact of the matter is that Mingi and Yunho were – still are actually – complete opposites. Yunho would say that about him and San, but at least San has a semblance of emotions. Mingi has always been void of that to a scary degree, which is probably what deterred Yunho from talking to him for so long.

The Berserker was the one to approach him after those three long and awkward years of avoidance. He cornered Yunho in the med bay with those wide and curious eyes. Yunho thought he was going to get annihilated by the man back then, maybe die at his hands without even knowing why but Mingi presented a simple and straight-forward question that had Yunho fumbling for words. Ironically enough, the same question that falls from Mingi’s lips now as Yunho continues to comb through his hair with dye in silence.

“Why do you want to be a good person?”

Yunho hadn’t known what to say back when Mingi first asked him the question, but now that time has passed he thinks he can at least construct a decent answer.

“The arrogance in me would say it’s because I want people to think I’m a good person. Because being perceived as good is better than being perceived as bad. But honestly… I just feel happiness by doing good things and helping people.”

“Happiness…” Mingi echoes to himself. Yunho knows that the man doesn’t quite understand that emotion, and all his attempts to explain it to him have failed drastically.

“It makes me feel warm inside.”

“Why would you want to feel warm inside?”

“It’s like the feeling when Hongjoong says he’s proud of you. Or when you’re told that you did a good job. You know that sensation, right?” Mingi nods against Yunho’s touch. Yunho finishes up with the last few strands of pale hair before speaking again. “Well, that’s what I feel when I help someone or do a good thing. That’s why I want to be good.”

“Ah… okay, yeah, I see. Thank you, Healer.”

“You know to call me Yunho, Mingi.”

“Right. Yunho.”

“That’s good enough, I guess. Alright, up. You still wanna do mine?”

“Yes, I think I can manage it.”

“I trust you, Mingi. Think about the things we talked about. Or ask some more questions. It’ll help keep your thoughts from drifting back to those things.”

“Okay, yeah, I can handle that.” Mingi stands up, barely inching over Yunho, and glances down at the bowl of blue dye that Yunho passes his way. “Blue?”

“Your favorite,” Yunho answers with a small laugh, and he pats Mingi on the cheek as he steps around him to take his place in the wood chair. There is a pause after that. Yunho glances up at Mingi through the mirror before him, eyeing the Berserker carefully. He continues to stare down at the bowl of dye with that familiar blank expression.

“You said happiness felt… warm?”

✧✧✧ a/n: hello hello this is the first interim type chapter so far, and i got an overwhelming amount of answers giving me wonderful ideas and questions to be answered, as well as interest in the interim chapters so im excited to do these here and there to break up the tension. i know i said i wasn’t going to post this week but given all that’s been happening, i figured we could all use a break from the stress and negativity and have a more light-hearted thing to think about!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @saturatedsan @haotheheckk

unable to tag: @2504-life @lil7bluedragon

note: if you would not like to be tagged in future interim chapters, please don’t hesitate to let me know!!!

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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Title: A Free Spot

Summary:

"While she was still a commander in the midst of a war, she had to shut out all raw emotion while she watched Levi take down titan after titan, as the airship took her further away from where she had wanted to be. She did too good of a job turning off her emotions then and her last memory of Levi had become a free spot in her mind.”

Slight AU! Levi sacrifices himself in Chapter 132 instead of Hange and Hange deals with the consequences years later.

Written for @levihanweek Angstober 2020. Prompt: Free Spot

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes:

A part of me felt like Levi should have gone instead of Hange. That is, if one of them had to go. I'd still rather they both lived and got their happily ever after

I’m in the middle of writing for the greetings and farewell prompt but it's really just not looking to good rn so I'd rather not share it for now. Hopefully, I manage to get the motivation to finish it up. I’m probably gonna write some fluff and domestic Levihan after this. These prompts are just too heavy haha.

Either way, I had so much fun writing for angstober. I hope you enjoy and do tell me what you think!

You know Levi, it feels like my time has come. I want to act as cool as possible so let me go out like this...

It had been two years since the rumbling had stopped for good. Eren was dead. The Eldians and Marleyans had established a peace treaty and the survey corps was declared redundant, replaced with a special defense squad.

Mikasa and Armin willingly took over what was left of building the defense-oriented military. Having seen enough violence and loss to last a lifetime, one soldier slowly and quietly stepped down.

That one soldier helped build what became the new city of Paradis, but still felt the burden of responsibility. Disappearing from society and retiring to some farmland on the outskirts of central Paradis felt wrong although tempting.

That soldier had seen things first hand that most people would never experience, so it was easy to take on a job as a teacher. This was especially since most Eldians did not want a repeat of the last war and who better to teach the future generation than one who had experienced it at the front ranks.

The subjects taught were easy to pick up.

Math. Science. Languages. History.

Most kids would end up mastering the basics anyway and that was more than enough for most jobs. What most people from both sides had failed to master though, was how to empathize and how to critically think. They failed to learn how to talk things through or how to question orders.

How to talk things through. How to question orders.

That was what motivated the soldier-turned-teacher, to supplement lessons with anecdotes from the Survey Corps days. It was like living in one's dreams again. The anecdotes before and after lessons kept the students entertained and it also kept the memory of one important person alive.

Three months into the lesson, one of the students had turned out to be more invested than the others and had raised her hand in the middle of one of their story times.

"Did you marry Levi?"

Maybe the former commander did get carried away.

"The soldier I mean. The one in your stories," the young girl clarified.

“Lena, you shouldn’t have asked that,” another student muttered.

Lena jumped up and bowed her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry… You always got so excited when you talked about him that I thought…"

Hange only realized then that for a second she had not moved from her spot. She put a hand to her face to see that it was wet. She hastily looked back at the blackboard and wiped her face with the collar of her sweater.

"What would make you think we married?" She managed to ask as she looked back at the young student. Most of the kids in the room were roughly twelve to thirteen years old. At that point, she was still figuring out what could be mentioned and what couldn't to a bunch of preteens.

Lena blushed. "My big sister talked about her boyfriend like that and now they're married."

"Well that story could wait another time. It looks like classes are done for the day." The teacher quickly gathered up her learning materials into one messy pile on the table, thanking whatever god existed for the timing of that question at least.

Some students protested but the teacher did not budge. The latter looked back again at the blackboard as she listened to the students pack up their things and file out of the classrooms.

As soon as the last student left, Hange quickly closed the door behind her, slid on the floor and buried her face on her hands.

Why are you crying? It's been fucking years.

She slammed the floor with her fists, letting the pain that shook through her wrists, act as punishment for that random bout of emotion.

How many stories has she told them?

They had started off as stories detailing the lives of the survey corps members who had given their lives to fight a war fueled by the hate of two nations. Somehow, the stories had shifted to her own relationships. She had talked about Moblit and Erwin, the values they had upheld for the greater good of humanity.

How had she described him for the students to think they married?

Before she knew it, she had started to talk about the strongest soldier with ironically, the most unwavering regard for human life.The one soldier who was probably capable of taking down fifty soldiers without so much as a scratch was the same soldier who would ask her privately after meetings, if she could think of a better plan which would cost less lives than the one they had thought up just a while ago. He was a soldier who would always voted on alternatives that could preserve more lives.

At that point, Hange could not even recall what words she used or what tone she kept. She started to treat those story times she promised the students after every lesson as a reprieve, a way to just imagine once again the past that she had missed, and the memory that made her relax the most was that of Levi.

It had been three months since she started teaching. She guessed that she had probably started bringing him up after the first month. It had occurred to her until that moment that she had never really implied his actual fate.

Did she talk about him in present tense?

Did she say something to make them think that he had survived?

You know Levi, it feels like my time has come. I want to act as cool as possible so let me go out like this…

Her chest constricted as she remembered how she felt saying those words. At that moment she thought she was going to die.

How to question orders. How to talk things through.

Levi had never questioned her orders or tried to talk things through in public, in fear of undermining her position. At that moment, right in front of everyone, Levi had said, "No. You're the commander. They need you out in the field. I'm not letting you die."

He had made a good point as he prepared his gear. Although he was humanity's strongest soldier at that time, he had become a little more than deadweight due to recent injuries. Either way, everyone had enough fate in his skills then, to know that even with those injuries, he'd still have enough power to take down a few titans and buy them some time to launch the ship.

While she was still a commander in the midst of a war, she had to shut out all raw emotion while she watched Levi take down titan after titan, as the airship took her further away from where she had wanted to be. She did too good of a job turning off her emotions then and her last memory of Levi had become a free spot in her mind.

Levi is alive. Levi exists in all nighters back in the office. He exists in the late nights in the forest, injured and half asleep.

As she allowed herself to relive that moment of two years ago, the only moment Levi blatantly disobeyed orders, the dam of emotions she had kept closed somewhere inside her started to flow free. She poked a few holes into it, allowing herself a few tears as she carried herself home.

It felt like it took ages but Hange finally found herself inside her empty apartment. She locked the door behind her and slid down once again on the cold wooden floor. She neglected to turn on the lights. The darkness that slowly swallowed the room as the sun started to set, only reminded her that she was alone, alone to her own devices and her own thoughts.

Levi existed before but now he is dead.

The free spot in her mind started to disappear, replaced by what should have been the raw emotion at seeing him burn and fall into the deep ocean. The grief came in large waves and Hange drowned in the emotions she had failed to release a year ago.

She called in sick the next morning and the day after and she sat alone on her bed, only standing up to eat or use the bathroom.

By what seemed to be the fourth day, it was as if she were floating. The waves had receded and she was left to survey for any damage.

Did you marry him? Another burning question came up from within her.

Hange rephrased it, given her present circumstances. Would I have married him?

Would marrying him have meant experiencing a continuation to those late night trainings as new soldiers?

Would it have meant a sequel to those late night conversations in the commander's office over tea?

Would it have meant someone welcoming her home every night after a long day’s work?

Would it have meant someone would be sitting beside her at that moment, hugging her, while she was too paralyzed by emotion to even get up?

Hange shook as she tried to imagine how it felt like again to be hugged. She knew she could have easily called someone, Mikasa, maybe Armin for a little company. Levi though was the last one she felt completely comfortable crying to, the last person she had ever shown complete vulnerability to.

And without him, she was alone.

The cruel truth was that that memory of Levi alive had overpowered her memory of his death. That sudden realization came as the memory once again became vivid, at a time where she had no more responsibilities of keeping soldiers alive in the midst of a battle.

Hange kicked her side table and watched as it toppled over, her belongings spilling out from underneath. She smashed her chair on top of the side table then the flower vase on the dresser.

The crown and the military had given her enough compensation to replace everything and that small afterthought was what only fueled her motivation to just release the pent up emotions. Everyone she had ever lost died for them anyway.

She went for the dresser to the side of the door and pulled out the drawers one by one, spilling out the contents on the floor before smashing them into the pile of remains of the furniture she had broken only a while ago.

She stopped at the third drawer when she saw the familiar green cloak and the wings of freedom insignia. At Levi’s last moments, she was wearing his cloak since she had expected to be the one to go.

As she spread out his cloak on the floor, she smelled traces of the familiar odor of titan’s blood. A year cooped up in the drawer had preserved the original scent. She buried her face on it and started to make out the scent of blood and sweat. At a certain point, she also made out the traces as well of the scent of old wood. The cloak had also started to adjust to the new world with no titans.

She threw the cloak on her still intact bed and sat cross legged on the floor.

Am I the only one who hasn’t moved on? She let out a burst of laughter, and sprawled on the cold wooden floor.

The Titans are gone. The Survey Corps is gone. Everyone is dead. He’s dead.

Free Spot

In total, Hange took a week out of work. She used that extra time to clean up and apologize to her neighbors after that breakdown.

Surprisingly, most of them had been understanding. Hange though did not want to use the excuse of being a shell shocked soldier to be a bother to anyone and had compensated all those who lived closest to her.

When she finally showed up back to the classroom, she was surprised to see all the students on their seats as if they had expected her to be back that day.

Of course, the substitute probably told them.

“You’re surprisingly behaved today.” Hange commented as she emptied her book bag on the table.

It was Lena who came out from behind her desk with a box and placed it on the teacher’s table.

“We heard you got really sick for a while so we got you a present which could maybe help you stay healthy,” she explained, still looking apologetic.

“Thank you.” Hange blushed as she started to untie the bow and opened the box underneath. Hange fought back a wave of nostalgia and the stinging sensation in her eyes as she opened the box to find a tea set, complete with a bag of black tea on the side.

“My dad told me tea is good for the body,” one student volunteered.

Hange put one hand to her mouth, as she felt her lips tremble. A part of her wanted to laugh and a part of her wanted to cry. She had told them enough stories to keep them busy for months but she had never mentioned tea. It was an irrelevant detail in the grand scheme of things, of course she wouldn’t. “He liked black tea. We spent a lot of our free time talking over tea,” she admitted as she traced the rim of the tea cup, holding it the same way she had seen him hold it countless times before.

For a second, Lena looked panicked. “I’m sorry we didn’t mean to… You don’t have to talk about it anymore. ”

“No. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” She stood up and put her hand on the head of the young girl. “It looks like everyone pretty much guessed what happened to that soldier huh?” She smiled, keeping her tone deliberately light.

A lot of the students kept a sullen look and Hange was sure someone had explained it to them or at the least, they had picked it up on their own.

“Well, that’s the reality of war. A lot of the soldiers don’t get to marry and have kids. Just so that everyone here could live in peace.”

That night, Hange emptied the contents of the gift box on her kitchen table.

Levi would have liked the tea set. Hange thought to herself as she allowed the black tea leaves to boil on the kettle. The smell of the black tea wafted through the air and Hange closed her eyes as she allowed herself to be brought back again to those many nights when he was the one who would serve her a cup of warm tea.

Did I add too much water? Did I add too much black leaves? Would he be disappointed?

She poured the contents of the kettle into the cup and watched the tea leaves settle to the bottom of the cup.

She positioned her hands on top of the teacup, attempting to hold the cup just like he used to. The heat right on top of the boiling water, almost scalded her palm and Hange gave up after a few tries.

I never really understood how you did it.

The warm malty taste of black tea in her mouth was nostalgic. Hange only realized then that she had unknowingly abandoned this luxury right after the war. It was as if her subconscious had been protecting her from a breakdown just like the one she just had.

The smell and the taste of black tea had always been about Levi who was long gone by then. As she caressed the intricate linings of the cup though, she also started to think of the efforts of the students who had thought up the present and saved up for it.

She looked back at the memories leading up to his sacrifice at the hands of the colossal titans. The pain was still there but it was far from excruciating. It was bittersweet. Somehow, she did not need to delude herself anymore. She just had to let that bundle of emotions and memories within her untangle themselves.

Levi was gone. To Hange though, he was still alive.

He was alive in the black tea she had allowed herself to enjoy once again.

He was alive in the anecdotes she had told her class in between lessons.

He was alive in every single person who was alive because of his sacrifice.

It’s the living who give meaning to the soldiers’ deaths. It's the living who keep the dead alive.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihanangstober #fanfic #levi x hanji #levi x hange #attack on titan fic

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sunshinestrand-inactive · 4 years ago

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To Bring You Home

Day Five of Tarlos Week: “I thought I lost you”

Soulmate AU: When you can feel your soulmate’s pain.

Read on AO3

TK’s in the kitchen getting a glass of water when the pain in his chest begins. It starts out as a sort of uncomfortable twinge and he doesn’t really think anything of it. It isn’t until he’s walking into the living room when that pain grows into an unbearable stabbing pain. He gasps loudly, the glass in his hand shattering to the ground beside him as he falls hard to his knees. Tears prick at his eyes, his heart hammers against his ribcage, and his hands bleed from broken pieces of glass. His breathing begins to falter then and suddenly it feels as though he is suffocating, like his entire body is being crushed. His limbs begin to shake as his body unwillingly begins to shut down from the pain.

It’s at that moment when he realises, with pure horror, exactly what was happening. This wasn’t his pain. This was something much deeper and more heartbreaking than that. This was Carlos’ pain. TK didn’t understand, his boyfriend had just gone out for groceries, it was an innocent and mindless task. TK manages to pull himself up onto unsteady legs and stumbles his way over to the couch where his phone lay. He’s barely able to catch himself before another bout of pain comes and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming. He attempts to grab his phone three times before he is able to and with shaking fingers, he dials Carlos’ number. It rings in his ear, once, twice, three times -

Dread begins to sink its teeth into him, his stomach now turning with sickness. “Come on, Carlos.” He mumbled through gritted teeth, the pain tearing him apart. “Pick up, please.”

Four times. Five.

Hello, you’ve reached Carlos Reyes. I am not available at the moment but please leave a message and I will call you back as soon as I can. Thank you.

Tears fell from TK’s eyes as he hung up the phone, leaning his pounding head against the back of the couch. Then suddenly, as if a switch had been turned off, the pain lessened, the crushing feeling slowly disappearing until he was left with only an ache. He gasped as the invisible hand released from his throat and air finally returning to his lungs. He put a hand onto his chest, to feel his own heart thrumming underneath his skin. But despite the pain simmering away, he couldn’t help but to feel an unbearable sense of panic and dread flooding through him in replacement of it. He had been told about soulmates long enough to know that it was bad to feel the pain, but it was worse when that pain disappeared.

From beside him, his phone began vibrating and he was quick to grab it, answering it without even looking at who was calling. “Carlos?” He said, his voice panicked and hoarse.

“TK?” A voice said, but it wasn’t Carlos’. It was his father’s. “TK, it’s Carlos. He was in an accident. We were called to it. He’s on his way to the hospital.”

More tears fell. “I felt it.” He whimpered. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Carlos. “Is he okay?”

“I’m on my way to pick you up. Just hang tight, TK. It’ll be okay.”

TK didn’t miss his father, neglecting to answer the question but he nodded anyway despite his father not being able to see him. He nodded despite having no hope that those words were even close to being true.

“Here you go, honey.”

TK looked up at the glass of water that Grace held out to him. He slowly took it, giving her a small sliver of a smile. She returned her own, sweet and warm before she took up her place beside Judd. TK took a small sip of the water, the cool liquid soothing his throat. He took a deep shaky breath, the ache now all over his body as if bruises were forming on his skin, as if he was the one that was in a car accident. But while Carlos’ life was desperately trying to be saved, TK could only feel his pain. Suddenly TK was hit by the sudden and overwhelming fear that this would be the last thing he would ever feel for Carlos. That he would never be able to feel his love or happiness ever again.

TK closed his eyes, trying to hold tears back and pictured Carlos; his smile, his brown eyes, everything that TK hopes that he’ll have the chance to see again. He jumped slightly as a hand squeezed his shoulder and he didn’t know who it belonged to and he didn’t care to look.

“The family of Carlos Reyes?”

TK snapped his eyes open at the sound of Carlos’ name and he was up and out of his chair, ignoring the burn of his limbs. The 126, his family, encircled him, offering their support. TK held his breath as the doctor finally spoke.

“He has a few broken ribs, a broken arm, a concussion and some bruising. It looks like he is going to be just alright, just needs some rest. All in all, he’s very lucky to be alive.”

TK nearly sobbed in relief. Alive. Despite everything that he had been put through, every ounce of pain his body had been feeling, Carlos was alive.

He swallowed hard before he spoke. “Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep right now but you’re more than welcome to sit with him. Just try to keep the people to a minimum, we don’t want to overwhelm him. He’s in room 242.”

“Thank you.” TK whispered. The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile before he turned away.

TK didn’t wait for anyone to speak before he was slowly moving down the hallway, counting the room numbers until he came to 242. He braced himself before he stepped over the threshold and into the room. At first glance, Carlos just looked like he was simply in a peaceful slumber. However, as TK got closer, his injuries became more apparent. He had one very large gash on his forehead that had been closed with stitches. His right arm, rested against his chest, was in a cast and the rest of his visible skin was littered with dark bruises.

TK suddenly wished he could take every single ounce of Carlos’ pain so he wouldn’t have to feel anything when he woke up. TK moved to sit in the chair next to the bed and grabbed Carlos’ non-injured hand. Almost instantly, Carlos’ grip tightened around his hand and a groan was escaping his slightly parted lips.

“Carlos?” TK whispered, as if his name was the only word he knew. It took a moment before Carlos’ eyes fluttered open and another moment before they fell upon TK.

“Hey you.” Carlos mumbled, his voice hoarse.

TK forced himself to smile, relieved to see the warm brown gaze. “Hi.” He whispered, running his thumb over Carlos’ hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car.” Carlos joked.

TK gave him a deadpanned look. “That’s not funny.”

Carlos chuckled before it fell into a cough. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay.” TK whispered.

Carlos squeezed his hand. “How are you?”

He shook his head. “Carlos, seriously? You do not need to worry about me.”

“Sweetheart,” Carlos whispered. “How bad was it?”

TK shrugged. He could try to play it off and act tough but he knew he would never successfully be able to do that with Carlos. He would see right through him.

“It was pretty bad.” TK admitted. “I couldn’t breathe and it felt like I was being crushed.”

“That sounds awful, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Please, this is not your fault.” TK said softly.

“I know but I -” Carlos shook his head. “You were all alone.”

“So were you and I was so scared for you, Carlos. I didn’t even think about myself. All I could think of was that you were by yourself and that you were in pain. I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t though. I’m right here and I’m okay.” Carlos assured him. “The hurt will go away.”

“I wish I could take it all from you.” TK whispered, staring down at their connected hands.

“Of course you do, you’re TK Strand. You always want to sacrifice yourself for others. It’s just who you are and it’s a quality that I will always love you for. But I would never allow you to do that, even if it was an option. We can overcome it together, like we are meant to. We’re a team, remember? That’s why we’re soulmates.”

TK smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was a gift that Carlos Reyes had. Always being able to make him smile and always being able to make him feel okay in even the worse situations. “I am so glad you are okay, Carlos.”

“So am I. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t ever get to see those beautiful green eyes or that smile again. Or if I didn’t get to tell you just how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” TK whispered. “I’ll love you until I can’t breathe anymore.”

Carlos grinned and tried leaning down but winced, hissing in pain as his body rejected the movement. TK hushed him before he stood up and moved to sit next to Carlos on the bed. His smile grew and he leaned over to place his lips gently to TK’s. The kiss was unbearably soft and only lasted a few seconds before Carlos broke it, placing his forehead against TK’s.

“You are one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me, TK Strand.”

TK felt more tears well up, he was afraid that he would be out of them by the end of the day. “You’re pretty great yourself.” TK whispered, the space between them so small and intimate.

Carlos leaned in to kiss him again. It grew more this time and TK brought his hands up to the back of Carlos’ head, tangling his fingers in the wayward curls. Before things could carry any further, a knock at the door was bringing them back apart. When they turned towards it, TK saw Judd and Grace in the doorway and he caught glimpses of the rest of the crew standing behind them.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Grace said, a knowing twinkle in her eye. From beside her, Judd shook his head before mouthing ‘no, we’re not.’ Carlos chuckled at the action. “We just wanted to see how you are doing.”

Carlos grabbed TK’s hand, intertwining their fingers and laid his head down onto TK’s shoulder. Being this close to one another almost getting rid of the pain in its entirety. Carlos then glanced around the room where so many people who cared about them stood and it was almost too much. TK felt him take a deep breath, and watched as his own tears came to his eyes. “I think I’m going to be just okay.”

And here with each other, here with their second family, TK was sure they would be.

#tarlosweek2020 #911 lone star #tarlos #paige writes #userkimmy #userjilly #officerrxyes #usermaximus #brilliantbanshee #ronenrubinstein #hope it's okay i tagged you bonnie!

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doodleimprovement · 4 years ago

Text

Of Brothers and Moonjumpers - AHIT Victorian AU Fic

This one is long enough to be an actual one shot - be warned!

----

Marcus Arelius can seem a bit dim from a distance. Always smiling, always pleasant. It seems like willful ignorance if you do not know him.

But if you do know him, you know of his cunning, his wit, his surprising slyness.

Vanessa was well aware of him and his mild disapproval of her, but played up his friendliness in such a way as to leave him with no room to speak.

It was the only way to keep his knowledge and questions about his brother quiet.

What the lady of the house did not count on, was the little servant girl.

While taking a leisurely walk in the courtyard of the manor, he spotted the little girl very eagerly pulling weeds from a neglected little corner.

His corner, he lamented - where he used to grow -

Oh lord he used to grow moonjumpers there!

“Little one, Little one stop!” Marcus shouted, causing the little girl to jump and turn. He spotted the dried moonjumper pinned to the ribbon in her hair and he rushed over, getting onto one knee “You didn’t touch this while it was living, did you??”

“Wh-uh no!” The girl responded “It was a gift from Miss Delilah. She warned me ‘bout how bad they are”

He looked passed her and saw that whatever moonjumper’s he’d planted there had long since died - such a shame. His brother had taken such good care of them while he was away.

“Well, might I ask what you are doing to my garden?” He asked politely.

“This is your garden? There’s not a lot here” She tilted her head “Miss Cici told me to take out the weeds so it looks nice, and plants these peterpoppies” She pointed to the five lovely, large, hardy flower plants, with bright red petals and blue-green stems.

“Ah, Peterpoppies.” he looked at the flowers over “I do love these - perfect autumn flowers.. if being planted a bit late” He muttered “Do you need any help, little one?”

She furrowed her brow

“Who are you?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me!” he got on both knees, dirtying his navy breeches. “I am Markus Arelius. What is your name?”

“Harriet Timms!” She grinned “Are you related to the lord?”

“Indeed I am! I’m his twin. I live in HoriHollow, a day's journey from here.

“Oh, wow, that’s a big city, right?”

Markus laughed a bit “I suppose it depends on your definition” he contemplated “Though HoriHollow is certainly bigger than Subcon”

“I’m from Marfa Town” She commented, turning around and getting back to pulling weeds. Markus began to assist her, grabbing at the more stubborn ones on her behalf

“Marfa town? That’s not too far from here”

“Yeah. I lived at Mother Rumbi’s” Harriet commented “But then they sent me here”

Ah yes, Markus knew of this type of thing.

“So you are like Morgan, then?”

“What?”

“Like Morgan. She was given to the manor by an orphanage close to the border known as “Alpengott””

Harriet’s brow furrowed “I … didn’t know that. Huh”

“She didn’t tell you?” Markus chuckled, grabbing another weed “She would not stop talking about it a few years ago.”

“Well I wasn’t here a few years ago” Harriet commented, grabbing at the trowel to dig a hole for one of the peterpoppies.

“Fair enough” Markus nodded, grabbing one of the flowers and loosening the dirt.

The two fell into a silent rhythm for a few minutes pulling weeds and planting the flowers together.

“Uh, Mister Lord Markus…?” Harriet looked up to him

The man chuckled at her addressing “You can simply call me Mister Markus, if you wish”

“Oh, okay!” She grinned at him- he couldn’t help but grin back. Oh, his brother would love this little servant girl.

“So uh, Mister Markus… Do you know where Lord Lukas went? Lady Vanessa said he was traveling the world but.. He’s been gone for a long time, right?”

“.. Yes, he has.. I was in HoriHollow when he left. The letter Vanessa sent to me told of him having a prophetic dream and leaving without so much as a goodbye even to her” he explained “It came shortly after a letter from him, proclaiming a party he wished to host to celebrate their 5 year wedding anniversary. He seemed so excited I …” The man drifted off, holding the last peterpoppy in his hand “... I genuinely do not understand why he didn’t come to HoriHollow first. Why he went straight to London and … left”

Harriet paused for a minute “... What does lord Lukas look like?” She asked “I’ve never seen any pictures of him…”

“Oh, I have one!” Markus reached into his jacket, pulling out a rather large pocket watch that fit firmly in his hand. He popped it open, and showed the little girl the picture.

“He was so suspicious of the photographer and the camera, but I got him to stay still for just one photo. This was taken a few months before he left”

Harriet nearly choked on her own words.

The man in the photo. With the not unkind expression and shorter hair and fuller face… It was Snatcher. It was the man in the basement

She struggled with how to vocalize this.

“... He as a dumb face” was all she could come up with, causing Markus to pause and then laughed out loud, boisterously, with a volume that seemed to echo into the sky.

“Well if he has a dumb face than so do I! Perhaps dumber even, with my missing eye and all that” he laughed, still as he spoke, trying to calm himself down.

“Oh uh, uhm” She tried to backtrack.

“What on earth are you two doing?”

The two of them looked over at the voice, where the Lady of the house stood stiffly.

“Ah, good afternoon Vanessa. I was just helping little Miss Timms here with the flowers. This was my corner, after all” Markus stood, a stiff smile on his face.

“Ah... “ Vanessa looked down at Harriet, and the girl stayed on her knees, not looking at the lady of the house “And what were you two talking about?”

“Oh, I was just showing them that photo I have of Lukas” He showed the photo “She’s never seen Lukas since he went … on his trip”

Vanessa leveled another glare at Harriet, which Markus caught this time around.

“Yes…. I do hope he sends a letter soon. I’ll be sure to write you the moment it comes… when it does” Vanessa returned his tight smile “Will you be joining me for dinner?”

“I shall, yes. Let me return to my room to change. Gardening is dirty work, after all” He responded.

“Ah yes…. I shall see you in the parlor then” The lady of the house turned on her heel and left the center garden, leaving Harriet and Markus alone again.

“.... Are you alright, little Harriet?” Markus looked down at her with a pensive expression.

Unable to maintain eye contact, Harriet nodded and went to collect the weeds into a basket for them to be fed to the cattle.

“‘M fine, mister Markus.. Lady Vanessa can be lil’ intimidating but it's okay”

“... If you are sure” he leveled back at her.

Harriet simply nodded and stood up “uh, Mister Markus, can I ask you something?”

“Indeed you may” he invited

“... Miss Cici told me that in order to run the manor, you have to uh, make a deal with the forest” She started nervously “... Do you know what Lady Vanessa gave up?”

Markus paused, taking a moment to think. He’d been contemplating that very question for years, but she didn’t seem very… different, from the woman he knew before his brother disappeared. Somewhat suspicious of the child’s question, he still answered honestly.

“... I do not, no.” he looked to the door where Vanessa left “Might I ask you a question?”

She finally looked up at him, her deep eyes knowing… something

“... Does my sister in-law ever talk of my brother? How do you know of him?”

Harriet’s brow furrowed, twisting her apron in one hand “Uh… Once or twice… I heard about him from the other people that work here. I uh.. Heard he likes Cici’s cinnamon bread?”

Markus let his shoulders relax a tad “That he did… He would often eat it in less than a dozen bites. Fascinated me, really”

Harriet snorted “Sounds right?”

“Oh? Have his food related exploits really been gossiped about so keenly?”

“Maybe” She grinned, her smile not even hiding that she knew something.

Harriet head back for the door

“Hey, Mister Markus?”

“Another question, little one?” He asked, walking towards her

“No but… I have a feeling that Lord Lukas will be coming home soon” She stated “I just… It feels like something I *know*” She affirmed, the determination on her face giving him a strange feeling in his chest.

Like he wanted to believe her.

“Well… Let’s hope that you’re correct, Little Harriet. I miss my brother very much”

She smiled back up at him “I hope I am too” she responded, before turning the corner with her basket in tow.

That little girl knew something, Markus was sure.

And yet… he still hoped that she was correct.

#ahit #a hat in time #ahit au #a hat in time au #ahit victorian au #victorian au #ahit hat kit #hat kid #ahit moonjumper #moonjumper #ahit vanessa #vanessa #ahit queen vanessa #queen vanessa #antonia writes #antonias fandoms

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theballadear · 4 years ago

Text

Over the Garden Wall AU Alchemy Bros!!!

Hey!!! So this is high key long. I got pretty carried away but like ENJOY!!!

So clearly Varian is Wirt and Hugo is Greg

Hugo was adopted by Ulla and Quirin

Also like this is taking place in the same time as OTGW cause the 80s slap and I’d kill to see 1980s Alchemy Bros

So like Varian and Hugo were having a cute Halloween

Hugo was like “Let’s trick or treat!” but Varian was like, “Nah, I wanna ask this girl out.”

Hugo has a rock pun rock instead of facts

Sara is Vex cause I MAKE THE RULES

So like they go to a freaking cemetery cause Vex would-

Hugo is like spooked like “woAh bro bro, this is most non triumphant-”

And Varian is all “Cool it. I wanna ask her out.”

I’m keeping Jason Thunderburger cause I really can’t think of anyone who can live up to the man of legend

But like the group Vex is with clowns Varian cause they’re all “Oh he needs his big brother to chaperone him lol”

But OOP! The police show up cause like it’s high key concerning when a group of teens are at the cemetery

So like run time but like Varian and Hugo jump the freaking cemetery wall

They land on train tracks

Hugo finds a mouse in the bushes he landed in and tries to make a joke out of everything that happened

Bad idea-

Varian screams about how he feels neglected ever since Hugo came and how Ulla and Quirin are HIS parents not Hugo’s

Hugo: Oh, I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience….

Hugo: I’ll leave…

Then they hear a train coming and Hugo pushed he and Varian into the water and they just-

Fall

Into the water

Unconscious

NOW HERE’S WHERE THE FUN BEGINS

They enter ‘The Unknown’

And Varian starts panicking and Hugo’s like “hehe I haz mouse”

Hugo does the whole thing of “Idk what to name it?”

So like then they see this woodsman but the woodsman is just Alec thinking he has the soul of his wife in there

So Alec’s all “BEWARE OF DONELLA!”

The Beast is Donella cause she totally would

So then the mill thing happens yada yada.

Then like the meet a talking blue bird, who’s just Belle cause the vibes

And Belle’s all “Hey I can take you guys to Cyrus the Good Man of the Woods”

And Varian and Hugo are like “Seems legit”

Then the pumpkin thing happens yada yada

So they find this school of animals

And Rapunzel is Ms. Langtree cause THE VIBES

Also they both had cruddy fathers, OOOP! Except the OTGW Dad is way better OOOOOP!

Jimmy Brown is Eugene cause it’s cute

Same thing happens yada yada

Okay but the Highwayman is that guard dude that apparently guards everywhere

Random Tavern Dude: Marriage?

Varian: nO-

Hugo: Lol, Varian’s in loooovvveeeeee.

Then like they steal a horse but it’s a talking horse and it’s just Jackie cause V I B E S

So then like they come across this mansion but it’s Hector-

Then like the blue lady is just some random person cause I don’t ship Hector with anyone tbh

ANYWAYS

All that plot happens yada yada

B O N D I N G

Yes, I am going fast to get to the angst

So like they’re on this ferry and like they sneak on to get to Cryus cause Cryus can send them back where they came from

Instead of Frog’s they’re mice

So like they bout to get caught

So they hide with the band

But OH NO!

The organist was flung over board

Belle: Can’t you play piano???

Varian: Uhhhhh

So like Varian play’s piano for a bunch of mouse

Then Hugo’s mouse just starts singing

AT NIGHT WHEN THE LAKE IS A MIRROR!

So then they make it to their destination

Hugo is pretty bummed because his mouse is being convinced to sign a record label with the other mece

Hugo: Ya done good Mr. President, ya done good.

Then like Belle is laying awake cause she knows she’s sending Varian and Hugo to their doom cause like she wanted the scissors to save her and her family from being birds

She flies to Cyrus and is all “The deal is off”

And Cyrus is like “mhm, yeah right.”

Then like Varian and Hugo follow her and

Varian: We trusted you-

Varian: We-we TRUSTED YOU!

Hugo: Belle…?

Belle kills Cyrus to save them because she got attached

Varian: Come on, Hugo we’re leaving-

Hugo: But didn’t Belle help us?

Varian: Can you please just listen to me for once?!?!

So Belle’s alone and Varian took the scissors out of spite

Then like, they run into Alec again

Then they run AWAY from Alec again

Then they find this cottage

And there’s this girl who we’re gonna say is Catalina

And like Lance is taking the role of Auntie Whispers

LIKE SHIPS IS NOT SUNG HERE HON

They kinda just become buds

Then like Catalina transforms into a wolf and tries to eat them

But Hugo’s mouse ate the bell

Hugo: THE RINGING OF THE BELL COMPELS YOU TO GET OUT OF POOR CATALINA!!!!

So then the evil spirit leaves Catalina and happy times!

Varian and Hugo sail down a lake

Varian is losing hope while Hugo is still trying to have optimism

They reach land and sleep for the night

Hugo has this dream of a cloud city and fights an evil wind cloud

The Queen of the Clouds rewards him with a wish and Hugo is like “I just want to go home with my little brother, ma’am.”

But the queen tells him that Varian has already been claimed by Donella

So Hugo asks to take his place instead

So Hugo is taken by Donella and Varian wakes up to find Hugo following Donella

Varian runs after then but falls through ice and almost drowns until Belle saves him

Varian wakes up to find himself in a nest with Belle’s bird family he thanks them then leaves to find Hugo

But Belle was already on the job

She sees him perform meaningless tasks for Donella

Then a strong wind gushes her away and knocks her into Varian

Alec uses up what little Edelwood he had left then comes across Hugo being turned into an Edelwood Tree

Alec tries to free him (long shot I know but p l o t) and fights off Donella

Varian and Belle arrive as Alec disappears

Hugo hands Varian his rock pun rock and asks him to put it back in Mrs. Arianna’s garden cause he stole it

Varian: No no no! You can give it back to her yourself. I’m going to get you out of this. I promise.

Varian: Look! I have your mouse, cheese. Just please stay with me, Hugo. Please.

Suddenly Donella appears offering to keep Hugo's soul alive inside the lantern in exchange for Varian taking over the duties in keeping it lit

Varian considers this then refuses saying that it was stupid cause the lanter held Donella’s soul

Varian free’s Hugo and asks Belle to come with them but Belle refuses and says she’s going to just stay with her family as a bird but Varian hands her the scissors

Then Alec, outraged that Donella had lied to him extinguishes the lantern and kills Donella

Varian and Belle say goodbye

Then boom

Varian wakes up sinking in the lake he see’s Hugo and swims them both to safety passing out when everyone and the police show up

Then they wake up at the hospital and alls well ends well

FIN

@alchemy-bros-appreciation-week

#alchemy bros #alchemy bros week 2020 #varian and the 7k #varian #hugo the human

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kmclaude · 5 years ago

Note

An AU thought, unfinished: Annemarie as a nun. Not a sexy nun, but someone found out about the whole “preggers with her brother’s baby and sent to a convent as punishment” type nun, who may or may not wind up teaching a bunch on unruly kids and has her fellow sisters breathing down her neck to make sure she doesn’t sin again. But hey, guess who’s the priest/confessor for the order? And considering nuns “have” to obey Fr. Tiefer’s authority…! Not smutty but it’s all I’ve got 🤷🏼‍♀️

oh how decadent! oops my hand slipped!!!

Émile is probably the one who gets mad when he finds out she’s pregnant and who’s kid it is because sure he’s white trash and has been bending his daughter over for years but he draws the line somewhere (and part of it is because he knows Emilein is a freak, he knows he wouldn’t want her so it’s obvious she’s the whole reason for being knocked up – and she’s been using the stupid baby in her fat gut as a shield to mouth off to him and run the joint – why not punish her? Besides, no one in that family can afford another mouth to feed…)

So he pulls Emilein aside, says, “hey, you’re good with that priest, yeah?” and Emilein shrugs, says, “maybe I am,” and braces for a nasty shot about how of course he is, he loves being on his knees, but it never comes, just, “so he knows about like…them wayward girl schools, yeah?” and Emilein plays dumb until his daddy plays his hand: send Annemarie off to a convent or wayward school or hell an asylum – she wants to use a baby to get her way, well then she can get out of the way. Forever.

Emilein, for once, is more than happy to help his daddy out.

He talks to the priest, Fr. Michaud, who has offered him chance and again ways out, one in particular though it would mean the priesthood, and reveals his sister is pregnant (not that it was terribly secret: the whole town was waiting for the day she slipped up at this point) and she is…troubled. And is there a place. The Church. Anything.

Of course Fr. Michaud hesitates because yes there is one nearby but it’s practically an asylum, run by an order on their grounds – cloistered – “And, to be frank, we all know your sister is…not exactly saving herself for anyone…but unless she’s a-a maniac it would be almost cruel–”

And Emilein puts his hand lightly on Fr. Michaud’s, smiles in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes, and says, “You know how she hasn’t named the father? You’d think someone like her’d be going up and down the street, demanding a wedding or at least support, wouldn’t you? But she ain’t. ‘Cause she can’t. Now, remember the first time we actually talked, you an’ me, an’ I told you I’d suck your cock in a heartbeat ‘cause that’s usually how things went with me an’ older men an’ not always by force?”

“Difficult to forget,” says Fr. Michaud, neglecting to mention that most fourteen year olds don’t say that.

“So we both agree I’m…funny.”

“What are you getting at, Emilein?”

“I’m sayin’, the reason she ain’t beatin’ down no po’ bastard’s door to help with her own bastard is ‘cause she doesn’t want anyone to know that the daddy’s her own brother.”

Michaud goes pale and Emilein isn’t smiling any more.

“We both know she don’t interest me much. So, Father, please: help me.”

–

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps him, and Annemarie is sent away to have her child (and then work off the debt she’ll have accrued – after all, not like her father and brother can afford to pay.)

Her choice is very simple: go as willingly as she can pretend and nobody has to know about who the father is or fight and Emilein tells (with Fr. Michaud as a witness – Émile, of course, is more than willing to rat her out but really, every other word from his mouth is a lie.)

And life is peaceful – until Émile decides he can fully boss around his son like he did his daughter in a house he doesn’t own.

Emilein is having none of it but Emilein is terribly small and Émile has friends too, friends just as nasty as Annemarie’s boyfriends, and Émile ties him to a bed and starves him and lets all sorts of men use him for days and brags about the money he’s made from him – “shit, cher, we should’ve been whorin’ you out years ago! Guess yer cunt sister was just too jealous to share.”

He lets him go, eventually, after a week that feels like forever and Emilein runs to Fr. Michaud, banging on the church door, and when Fr. Michaud answers his request is much the same as it was before: “please, help me.”

Of course, being a good man, Fr. Michaud helps Emilein Tiefer and gets him connected to the seminary.

–

At twenty-five and with the title of ‘Father’ himself, Tiefer is assigned to a convent in Fuckoff Nowhere, Louisiana to be the priest and confessor on the grounds. Segregated from the opposite sex and the real world for so long only to be thrown headfirst into the wide world, some were realizing, was not the greatest idea: so, the younger were sent off to serve their religious siblings first, particularly their sisters.

The Mother Superior is kind when she greets him on his arrival, a stark contrast to all the rumors of the convent here: it was a convent, yes, that made its daily bread with something of a home for wayward girls – part home, part school (for the younger ones whose unfortunate choices and circumstances left them behind their peers as well as their children, for those who had or expected them), part workhouse so the former two could survive – but for years its nickname had been the asylum because, regardless of how long one worked, much like the TB asylums, the only way out was in a casket.

Which is where, Tiefer always figured, his sister was at this point.

Until, during a tour of the small school on the grounds (as the children would be needing sacraments as well) he sees one of the nuns with the children – though she’s not a nun, not exactly, as she only wears a veil and simple dress and the bangs of her blonde hair peak out and frame her face – and she, in turn, sees him and freezes.

“Mother Superior,” he asks, voice steady as possible, once they’ve passed, once he’s calmed down, “who was that woman?”

“With the children? That’s Sister Anne, one of our success stories – quite a tough one too. She came here, pregnant, no idea who the father was and ready to dare I say fight every one of us sisters who came near. But the Lord works in mysterious ways and eventually He brought her ‘round. She should be taking her vows in a few years.”

“Ah. Do many of your girls usually wind up joinin’ the order?”

The mother superior sighs, sort of pointed in a way that hints that the topic is better put to rest. “Unfortunately, it’s not always part of God’s plan,” she says and then adds, “You sound a lot like she does – how far down South did you come?”

“Very.”

“Hm. She also.”

–

“Sister Anne. A word?”

After all the introductions and required niceties are made, Tiefer doubles back to the classroom of children, led by the novitiate.

“Of course, Father,” she says, the shock from earlier long gone from her face, a little more lined than he’d remembered it, her eyes a little less bright.

“In private?”

He lets her lead the way to a small, unused classroom and locks the door behind them.

“Well. Never thought I’d see you here, Sister.”

She scoffs, the plain novitiate from earlier twisting, like a monster under flesh, into his sister, the way he knew her, cocky attitude and all. “Why not? You put me here.”

“You know what I mean. ‘Sides, he put you here.”

“You helped.”

“Just told the truth is all. You want me to tell the truth again?”

“Can’t send me away again, sugar. Anyway, I’m a changed woman. The success story of these sisters.”

“Ain’t you special, huh?”

“Had to be. Play along or die like the rest.” She looks him over, sixteen years on his twenty-five, sizing him up. “You obviously understand, don’tcha Emi?”

“Father, now, actually.”

“Father, right, Father, now, huh? So Father – what was it? Not enough dicks to suck back home, you had to join the biggest boy’s club around? Or you just get sick of Daddy – bet he was a real sonuvabitch once he didn’t have me ‘round to take his shit out on.”

He cuts her off: “Annemarie. You like it here?”

“You like it where you are?”

He doesn’t answer, simply pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. He watches her reach out, then freeze.

“I’ll share if you tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ playin’ nunnery.”

“I told you. Play along or die. Same as you.”

“You don’t know shit about me or what I been through.”

“An’ you know ‘bout me?”

Tiefer shrugs, lights up. Refuses her one.

“I heard the girls who come here only leave one way.”

“Do I look like I left?”

“Mm.” He offers her a cigarette and a light. Her fingers brush his. He tries not to grab her wrist and crush it. “So this is better? Bein’ a mother to a slew of bastards an’ prayin’ to God who put you here?”

“I dunno, Emi–”

“Do not–”

“Father Emi, you tell me: would you like being worked like a dog to pay off your own existence your fuckin’ family sold off, gettin’ beat ‘cause no one gives a damn about you, and not knowin’ if the priest they brought in to hear confessions this ‘round would rather you suck him off than say you’re sorry. I’m fuckin’ forty-one years old: I wanted something close to freedom, even if it’s from behind a wall an’ veil. ”

Tiefer makes a sound like mock pity. “Sounds like every damn day of my childhood, Annemarie. In fact,” – he grabs her by the jaw, pulls her close, tugs the cigarette from her lips and puts it out against the back of her neck, hidden by her veil – “looks to me like you’re getting off easy, little miss success story.”

“Em–”

“That’s Father to you, now. An’ come to think of it, I’m sure Mother Superior would love to hear what you really did.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would they put you back in the work house? Or just turn you loose on the streets like a dog. Where you gonna go, Sister? Y’all take vows of poverty last I heard – gonna finally be a real whore and suck dick in the gutter?”

“Please…”

“Please what, pity you?”

Tiefer lets her go, takes a drag from his own cigarette, blocking the door. He grins, more a snarl than anything else.

“Oh Annemarie… You’re right: I wouldn’t dare as long as you don’t give me a reason to. I’m your superior now…let’s start treatin’ me as such, hm?”

He unlocks the door. “An’ Sister Anne? If you thought those other priests who put your ol’ ass on your knees were bad, you’re gonna really regret all your earlier sins against me.”

#character stuff #au where annemarie is a nun #pretreetzi #my writing #writing #callistochan87 #kmclaudereplies #kmclauderepliestoask #kmclaudereplies to ask #kmclaudeart

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janeofcakes · 4 years ago

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KYFC..: Chapter 21 (Johnlock meets roller derby and gets off)

Hahahahaha!!! I couldn’t help adding a little silliness to the title of this, the last chapter. I want to thank all of you for your support and dedication, for going on this wonderful, mad journey with me into an AU I feel has been sadly neglected by Johnlockers. It has true potential, as I think we all see. This has been a joy, a true joy and I am so humbled and touched that all of you came along with me from beginning to end. I have to say I’m sorry to see this John and Sherlock go. I have grown to really like them, and the precious friendship between Sherlock and Molly. I think you’ll be seeing more of that from me in the future. Hopefully, I’ll be able to mix it up a bit so it doesn’t seem the same from one story to the next. Haha. Anyway, this is all stuff I should say at the end of the chapter. I’m getting ahead of myself, so I will stop and let you enjoy this last chapter.

---

Never knew I could feel like this. Like I’ve never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss. Seasons may change, winter to spring, but I love you until the end of time. -- Nicole Kidman & Ewan McGregor, Come What May

Ten days have passed since Greg pulled John from the waters of Lake Erie. Their lives, and the whole of roller derby in Detroit and their division, were thrown into utter chaos that evening and things haven’t settled down one bit. The loss of a coach, and especially under these circumstances, does not sit well with the league board. The Demons’ season is immediately suspended and the team’s remaining bouts all forfeited. Every member of the team and staff is to be questioned in the coming days to determine level of involvement in the conspiracy.

The police have their own investigation as well and, oddly enough, the two entities have cooperated quite well with one another. Moriarty, Moran, Sarah Sawyer and Janine are all behind bars awaiting trial on a number of charges. Janine confessed first, her conscience getting the best of her. She laid out the plan as it began and explained how it changed over time. They had poisoned Dr. Wiggins and planted Anderson within Rock City, but Anderson had been an idiot. His attraction to Sally Donovan and subsequent removal from the position proved to be his undoing. John would not have been alone in Lake Erie, had the plan to murder him been successful.

After hearing of Janine’s confession, and accepting a deal that lessened the extent of the charges against her, Sarah confirmed all Janine had said. She also revealed more details and pointed the finger at five Demon skaters, one of which had poisoned Molly with a hidden needle in her wrist guard, just as Sherlock thought. They were all arrested and confessed, three of the five had been coerced into helping. Sarah even agreed to take police to the spot where Anderson was dropped into the lake.

Sherlock, John and Greg have not been able to rest since returning to the Metropark marina. Between additional police interviews and statements, and flying to DC on more than one occasion to be interviewed by the Board, they have had time for little else. Select others have been interviewed as well: Molly, Harry and other skaters who were injured, Dr. Wiggins and Mrs. Hudson, many of the Rock City staffers. To his credit, Sherlock has kept the Rollers on their winning streak throughout all of it. Just as John had said, they voted unanimously to refuse any resignation Sherlock might try to submit. Mrs. Hudson agreed wholeheartedly, scolded Sherlock for even considering it, and planted a motherly kiss on his cheek. He had rolled his eyes and grumbled, but John could tell how much it meant to him.

***

Exhausted, Sherlock stumbles into his condo and drops the duffle on his shoulder. The laptop bag on his other shoulder goes down more gingerly. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it by the door, noticing that John’s coat is no longer on the peg next to his. Of course. He had expected John would have moved out before his return. If he is honest, he thought John would be back at his own place within two days of Moriarty’s arrest, but he did not leave. Neither has he slept in Sherlock’s room. Granted, there has been a lot of traveling in the last ten days and not much time at home. Both he and John had to go to DC twice to appear in front of the Board, and they had also gone to St. Louis, Chicago and Memphis for bouts. Naturally, Moriarty’s plan had to blow up at the busiest traveling time in the season and Sherlock has no idea how long the Board’s investigation will last. At least they work their interviews around Rock City’s schedule. Just barely though. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, will see the team on a plane for Charlotte and then Raleigh. To top it all off, Sherlock had been summoned to DC a third time two days ago, leaving practices in the capable hands of Molly and Sally.

Sherlock cracks his neck and debates upon checking in with them before trying to get some sleep. Packing his things for the morning and getting a shower before turning in would also be good. He sighs, his mind still lingering on something else. John is gone. He must be. It’s not like Sherlock will never see him again. He is still the team doctor. It just feels that way. An invisible finite end to it all. The same way his condo feels empty without that coat on the hook. He resists the urge to go into the spare bedroom and wallow in the scent John has left behind, but only just. Part of him wants to sleep in that bed tonight. A very big part.

Sherlock trudges into the kitchen, pops a flavor cup and mug into the coffee maker and turns it on. He rests his hands on the counter on either side of it and stares at it blankly as if it holds all the answers to the universe and everything. He had not wanted John to leave, but what was he to say? The danger has passed and they have only known one another a few months and yet… Sherlock huffs a mirthless laugh and scrubs his hands over his face. How could he ever expect John to stay? It’s absurd. How could Sherlock even ask him? How can he tell John he wants to spend his whole life with him and that they were always meant to be together when they are so new to all of this? God, he’s an idiot. None of it makes any sense in his head and yet, it makes perfect sense to him. It isn’t going to if he tries to say it out loud to John though. He shakes his head sorrowfully with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m such an idiot,” Sherlock covers his face with his hands as his shoulders slump and he bows his head in defeat.

“I’m not saying I disagree,” a familiar voice says from the direction of the kitchen door, “but what specifically makes you an idiot this time?”

Sherlock’s head snaps up and he stands ramrod straight, looking into the crystal blue eyes of his wayward doctor. As if to punctuate his surprise, the coffee maker pings cheerfully to signal its cup is ready. John laughs softly and walks into the room, a white grocery bag hanging from his left hand. His eyes still on the startled coach, John sidles up to the counter and sets the bag next to the coffee maker.

“I thought you’d be gone,” Sherlock says in utter befuddlement.

“I was,” John smiles brightly. “I went to the market.”

“That’s not..” Sherlock’s expression finally returns to normal as his brain works through the shock. He narrows his eyes and looks at John wryly. “I thought you would have moved out by now. Obvious.”

“Oh, right,” John takes a short step back, suddenly much less sure of himself. Sherlock is screaming inside.

What the fuck are you doing, you idiot!

“I didn’t think… I should have done straight away, of course,” John stumbles over the words, losing his sure footing. “I got comfortable, I guess.”

“Right,” the word springs from Sherlock’s lips. He cannot seem to put together coherent thoughts or words and keeps saying the stupidest things possible. In the meantime. Every word he utters is sure to push John away. God, he really is an idiot.

“Right,” John parrots, his upper lip disappearing beneath the lower one.

An awkward silence hangs in the air between them as Sherlock struggles for words, wanting to physically kick himself. His mind feels like it is running overtime and he still cannot put what he wants to say to John into words. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he just furrows his brow instead. John nods ever so slightly and reaches for the grocery bag on the counter.

“I’ll just put these away, shall I?” Without waiting for an answer, John shuffles to a cupboard and places a box of his favorite tea bags inside. Then he moves to the refrigerator and puts a carton of milk and a few apples. The doctor loves the fruit, but will only eat it if it is cold. Sherlock tilts his head and cannot stop himself from silently marveling at how well he has come to know John’s idiosyncrasies in such a short time. John knows his too and they only seem to have made him more fond of Sherlock.

“I’ll be in my room,” John’s voice pulls him back from his reverie. “I’ll just pack. You’re right, I should have gone already. I mean, it’s all over, isn’t it?”

John disappears around the corner and Sherlock’s tense body immediately goes slack. He face palms with one hand and props himself up on the counter with the other.

Jesus Christ. Idiot. Idiot!

Sherlock turns toward the counter, pulls the coffee mug from the appliance and takes a sip. Frustration seeps from every pore. He resolutely does not want John to leave. Ever. Yet here he is more or less throwing him out. For whatever reason, John has not gone and does not seem to have any interest in doing so. Sherlock is not sure why, so he takes another sip and examines the evidence. John is definitely in love with him, but does he know it? Unclear. Although John was quite affectionate as they sailed back to Metropark, they have had no real physical contact or tender moments since they stepped off Greg’s boat. That would seem to indicate a desire to leave Sherlock’s condo or at least keep his distance if he stays. Maybe the doctor wants to be roommates like in those absurd sitcoms on NBC.

What the hell are you doing? Talk to him.

Sherlock sighs and sips the coffee again. He lets his eyes slip closed as the warm liquid slides down his throat, soothing and spreading comfort through his weary body. His chest feels noticeably warmer as the liquid passes through to settle in his stomach. He has eaten nothing but airline food, which is usually deplorable, since lunchtime and suddenly John’s homemade chili sounds absolutely delicious. Sherlock nearly moans at the thought and he tries not to visualize the two of them making the chili, cuddling on the couch, reading to one another or watching one of those awful spy movies John likes. Sherlock does not succeed in this endeavor. Not even a little. He sighs again and takes another sip of coffee, telling himself that the warmth spreading through him now is just from the hot liquid.

“The thing is,” John’s voice sounds loud in the quiet room. Sherlock’s grey eyes pop open to see him standing just inside the door. John’s body is tense, every muscle tight as ripcord. “I don’t want to go.”

Sherlock lowers the mug from his lips, his gaze locked on John. The doctor takes a hesitant step and swallows hard.

“I’d like to stay,” John eyes him with uncertainty, searching for a hint of approval. “I want to stay.”

“Of course,” Sherlock splutters, recovering his wits. He is nodding a little too quickly. “You may stay as long as you like. I can arrange to have your things moved, if you like.”

“I don’t want to move into the spare bedroom,” John says without preamble.

“Oh?” Sherlock’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. Then his brows rise to the curls hanging down from his hairline, realization dawning. “Oh.”

The room is quiet. The two men stare at one another. Sherlock cannot believe, cannot allow himself to think John is saying what Sherlock so wants him to be saying. He must be misinterpreting the words. John must mean something else. Could he really be that brave? Sherlock looks at the doctor, lips parted and eyes wide. John could mean nothing else.

“Sherlock, we need to talk,” John says without looking away, though Sherlock can tell he would like to. “I’ve been meaning to, wanting to, but with all the traveling and confusion… I let it get away from me.”

“Erm,” Sherlock feels off balance. His mind that is always rapidly winding its way through thoughts, strategies and plans grinds to a halt. John wants to move into Sherlock’s room. With Sherlock. Has John figured it out? Sherlock dares not hope. He opens his mouth and remains silent, his vocal chords seemingly unable to vibrate and his mind struggling to turn its gears again. He swallows, trying to revive his dry throat. ”I...don’t know what to say.”

Oh, god. You idiot. Tell him you love the idea. Tell him you love him.

“Why don’t you let me do the talking?” John inches into the room. His hands are clenched at his sides, his movements stilted and anxious. He straightens his fingers and clenches them again, this time glancing at the floor for a split second. When he looks back at Sherlock, his eyes are resolute with a decision made.

“I… I haven’t done or said anything before now because I didn’t want you to think it was out of gratitude or some sense of obligation for saving my life,” John begins, his face open and sincere. “It’s nothing like that. I mean, I’m glad you found me, and brought Greg, and had such a brilliant bloody plan.”

“It was an awful plan,” Sherlock interjects in a clipped tone, placing his coffee mug on the counter and gesturing with one hand. “It was all I could think of under the circumstances.”

“Maybe, but it worked,” John insists.

“Moriarty is unpredictable, John,” Sherlock chides, shaking his head doubtfully. “There were so many variables.”

“Sherlock,” John warns.

“Any one of them could have changed everything,” the mad coach continues.

“They didn’t,” John interrupts, crossing the space between them and stepping right up into Sherlock’s personal space. He takes Sherlock’s hands in his own and Sherlock goes quiet in surprise. John’s hands are so warm and soft, the pads of his thumbs pressing into Sherlock’s palms gently. A small crackling sensation starts low in his belly and he cannot take his eyes off John. “I’m very glad you took the chance. You and Greg, but that’s not why I want to move in for good.”

“For good?” Sherlock leans back a bit to study John. He wrinkles his brow and watches as John’s expression melts into that of a man looking at something utterly adorable, like a puppy. Sherlock is not adorable. He makes a mental note to speak with John about it later. He will not interrupt this moment. John gives his hands a squeeze and answers Sherlock’s mumbled question:

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.”

Without much thought, Sherlock cocks a sharp brow that says it all. John laughs.

“I know, I know,” John chuckles, but sobers quickly. “I just don’t want to take anything for granted.”

He bites his bottom lip and looks down at their joined hands. John moves his thumbs over the soft, pale skin and raises his sparkling eyes to Sherlock’s, conveying a depth of emotion that Sherlock can feel in his very soul.

“I decided so many things about myself long ago and just assumed they would never change, and they didn’t,” John shakes his head ever so slightly, “until I met you. It all changed. I don’t know when it started, but I can think of a dozen times right before all this happened when I should have known. I haven’t said because I really don’t want you to think it’s because you saved me like you did. It’s so much more important than that. You have to understand.”

The final few sentences he says in earnest, squeezing Sherlock’s hands as he does so. The coach searches his eyes and face. He knows exactly what John is talking about, but he has to hear him say it. It won’t feel real if John doesn’t say it out loud. Sherlock’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen a fraction. Sherlock tries not to break into a foolish grin, but the corners of his mouth are already turning up of their own volition.

“What, John?” he asks with the spark of excitement in his voice. “What’s changed?”

“You have to understand,” John repeats and begins explaining with a shrug. He releases Sherlock’s hands in favor of putting one on his own hip and ruffling the hair on the nape of his neck with the other. As John speaks, he lifts Sherlock’s mug without thinking and takes a drink before placing it back on the counter. Never does he take his eyes off Sherlock. It is like he believes them under a spell that will break if they look away from one another. “I liked everyone I dated and was certainly attracted to them. I just didn’t...feel this way about them. I didn’t love them. I didn’t think I could love anyone.”

John pauses to wet his lips. Sherlock, still fighting an excited grin, nearly loses his composure at John’s expression. It lies somewhere between an earnest plea that Sherlock understand him and utter terror that he will.

“You’re different, Sherlock. You’re so different,” John says insistently. “You mean so much to me. You mean everything. I… I love you, Sherlock. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I’m just such an idiot. I can reason through a million different things in seconds, but not that. Not my own feelings for you, or I couldn’t, but now… Now I know. I love you.”

As soon as the words are out, all of the tension visibly drains from John’s body like water through a sieve. Looking relieved, he regards Sherlock with soft eyes and a crooked smile. Sherlock feels the grin he has tried so valiantly to hide, curl his lips as he marvels at John. Instead of being nervous or frazzled by the confession he just made, John seems more relaxed than Sherlock has seen in a long time. He deduces that all the uncertainty of having feelings for Sherlock but not knowing what they were had been a heavy burden on John’s shoulders. Knowing it himself and now having it out in the open, has made John positively giddy and Sherlock loves him for it.

“John,” his deep voice catches and he feels a pricking in the corners of his eyes. John places his hands on Sherlock’s forearms as if to hold them both steady.

“I love you, Sherlock,” John repeats emphatically, his voice bubbling with excited energy. “I want to be with you and never leave your side or your flat or the team. I want to be yours.”

He stops abruptly in much the same way Sherlock has while making such declarations and it warms Sherlock’s heart. The very words themselves had flown from John’s lips with such speed that they clearly got the better of him and he said far more than intended. Of course, Sherlock doesn’t mind at all and John seems to have picked up on it because the fear that was in his eyes has gone, replaced by affection and elation.

“If you’ll have me, of course,” John completes the thought with a cheeky wink.

Sherlock lets himself grin from ear to ear, but only for a moment before fixing John with a haughty gaze and pulling his arms free of John’s grasp.

“Really, John, you are an idiot,” he says sharply. “For someone who is so ‘bloody brilliant’ you are incredibly stupid. You should have arrived at this conclusion as soon as you moved in.”

“Oh, yeah?” John huffs a laugh and reaches for the man’s hips. “And what makes you think that?”

“I don’t think, John. I know,” Sherlock stares him down with a glare that has no heat and lets himself be pulled closer. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest and looks down at John imperiously. “All the necessary data was there, but like Mrs. Hudson, you see…”

“But do not observe?” John asks him with a knowing smirk and nudges at Sherlock’s arms, but they remain steadfast.

“Of course in your case, you didn’t even see it,” Sherlock adds in mock consideration. “You just barreled on, ignoring it entirely. Very shortsighted for a person of your intelligence.”

“All right, all right,” John laughs fondly and pulls the lanky coach close. Their hips press together and Sherlock encircles John with his long arms, grinning down at him. John matches it, but then quickly tries for serious again. He does not pull it off in any sense and looks so adorable trying that Sherlock’s heart gives a squeeze.

“So,” John begins, still trying to chase away the smile from his own face, “do you think you can manage living with my egregious lapses in judgment? I know it’ll be difficult to cope. Should I pack my things?”

“Hmm,” Sherlock hums, tilting his head and pretending to consider John carefully. “I’ll muddle through. No sense in turning you out. I’m sure you can be taught.”

John huffs a laugh as he snakes a hand up Sherlock’s chest to cup the taller man’s cheek.

“I count myself lucky for that,” he says as he closes the gap for a chaste kiss. Sherlock feels every nerve tingle like electricity racing through his body. God, how he has longed for this moment. To kiss John with all his love, all his emotion and have John feel it for him in return. It is heaven on earth.

Sherlock chases John’s mouth when he starts to pull away and flicks his tongue quickly over John’s lips when he catches them. John hums in approval and raises his other hand to hold both sides of Sherlock’s face. The man imitates the posture and peppers John’s lips with kisses before settling into a long, wet one. Filled with promise, Sherlock teases John’s mouth open and their tongues slide together.

John deepens the kiss, his left hand now buried in Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock licks inside, eager to taste and claim. They have done this before, but now John is truly his and it is like the first time. It is delicious. There are no doubts or questions between them. John knows he loves Sherlock. He said it. Out loud. Sherlock’s body feels so light and every nerve tingles with the press of a thousand needles. It should be unpleasant, really, like when an appendage falls asleep, but it is exhilarating and Sherlock welcomes it. It makes it all real. Sherlock is not going to wake up the way he has dozens of times before. This is really happening.

Their kisses growing heated now, Sherlock’s hands skim down John’s spine. He squirms under the feather-light touch, a ticklish spot to tuck away for the future. Sherlock’s palms come to rest on John’s ass, his fingers giving the right cheek a light pinch. John smiles against Sherlock’s lips.

“You like my ass,” he chuckles and nips.

“Damn right I do,” Sherlock replies in a husky tone and gives John’s lower lip a suck.

“That’s all right,” John growls, his eyes growing dark. “I like yours too.”

He slides his hands around Sherlock’s back and spreads his fingers over both luscious cheeks. He gives them a squeeze. He has not yet had the pleasure or the opportunity to property address his fascination with Sherlock’s luxurious backside and the lanky coach is more than happy to let him indulge. Sherlock most certainly wants a chance at John’s body too. Mmmm, what John said is true. He is no Greek god, but he is far from ordinary. He is beautiful and his physique is perfectly glorious in Sherlock’s eyes. He wants to touch it and kiss it, all of it. He wants to worship every inch of it.

“Oh god, I wanna sink my teeth into it,” John nearly moans, smearing a messy kiss over Sherlock’s lips as he kneads his lovely ass. Sherlock kisses back just as hot and wet. John says something else, but Sherlock is lost in his own mind with visions of John’s naked form spread out before him. He drinks in all the skin he can touch and suck and kiss. A full body shudder overtakes him when he thinks about letting a stray finger slip between John buttocks...or his tongue.

Sherlock’s vision snaps back into focus and his body goes stiff. Every part of his body, and John is seconds away from realizing it. He panics for a moment, wondering if he should pull away before it is too late. John may have confessed his love, but he did not specify the rate at which things would move forward. It is true that they had sex in Baltimore, but Sherlock does not want to assume…

“Stop thinking,” John mutters, pulling Sherlock close and looking into his eyes. “I can hear you thinking.”

John grins as he holds the coach steady while he presses a passionate kiss to his full lips. Sherlock melts into it, his mind and body turning to jelly. Well, not all of his body. A quiet noise of surprise escapes John’s lips when Sherlock’s burgeoning erection presses into his hip. A jolt of exhilaration and lust rushes through them, renewing the heat of their kisses. It is maddening and fucking spectacular all at once. God, they can’t move fast enough.

John begins nudging this way and that until he is a few steps from Sherlock’s bedroom. He kicks the door open wide when they reach it. The kisses don’t stop as they move. Nothing stops. Their hands are grasping and clutching and holding close until Sherlock fists his fingers in John’s sweater and pulls it over his head. John drops his arms again as soon as the article of clothing is free of them. He holds the nape of Sherlock’s neck with one of them as he licks into the man’s mouth. Sherlock returns it just as fervently, their tongues sliding together, tracing teeth and lips. Sherlock holds either side of John’s waist with an iron grip. He wants to hold even tighter and never let go, to always be at the side of this amazing man. The pad of a finger strays onto a narrow patch of skin left exposed by a t-shirt that rucks up from John’s jeans. Unable to resist, Sherlock grabs at the hem of the tee with both hands and pulls the soft fabric up to John’s chest. The doctor breaks free from the kisses to look at Sherlock with blown pupils full of desire. They are still for a moment, looking into one another’s burning eyes, blinking slowly and taking in every detail.

His gaze not straying from Sherlock’s thin grey irises, John slowly raises his arms over his head. Sherlock wets his lips and lifts the shirt just as slowly over John’s head and arms and hands and drops it to the floor. Then he traces down John’s arms with unhurried fingertips, watching the blue of his eyes grow smaller and smaller until only a sliver remains. His fingers continue to trace over the muscles of John’s chest and stomach before he doubles back to rest his palms on John’s pectorals. John lowers his own arms in a fluid motion, fingers skimming down his back and places his hands on either side of Sherlock’s slim waist. He shuffles back again and bumps into Sherlock’s tall bed.

“What the hell?” John snickers, trying to look back at it. “The mattress is as tall as a table. Perfect for sitting on?”

Sherlock does not have an answer for John’s joke, so he shrugs and lets out a quiet laugh without breaking eye contact.

“Seriously, why the hell is it so high?” John continues in a jocular tone. “Something to do with your mile-long legs?”

“There are drawers under it,” Sherlock shrugs again after a moment, leaning in to place a soft kiss on John’s throat before straightening his neck to look at John. “I need the storage space.”

The doctor bursts out laughing, closing his eyes and gently swatting at the coach with his left hand. When he opens them again, it is to see a very indignant Sherlock staring back and John tries to hide his grin. He fails, of course, his face is so bright and merry it could light the sky. His conductor of light.

“What?” Sherlock asks, affronted. “I keep extra skates and gear in them.”

“No, no. Of course you do. It makes perfect sense,” John looks at him fondly, a wide smile stretching his lips. “God, I love you.”

He kisses Sherlock once softly and then lowers himself to sit on the bed. John reaches for him and slowly opens the buttons of his shirt, one by one, never taking his eyes off Sherlock’s. When John reaches the last one above the waistband of his bespoke charcoal trousers, he pushes the fabric open to reveal Sherlock’s pale chest and stomach. John leans in to lick a stripe over the left nipple while gently pinching the right. Sherlock moans and keens at the light touch of his rather unexpected ministrations. Jesus, it’s amazing. He cards his fingers through John’s short, blonde hair and throws his head back when John bites gently at his nipple.

“Oh god, John,” Sherlock gasps. “Don’t stop.”

John chuckles low and gravelly as he continues and it’s all Sherlock can do to keep his toes from curling in his shoes. When John does stop, he looks into Sherlock’s eyes and pulls at his body gently, gesturing backward toward the headboard. Sherlock’s lips curl into a half smile and he nods minutely. John shifts back as Sherlock leans forward and places his hands on the bed on either side of John. He raises a knee and plants it on John’s left side, the other on the right side and he crawls up and onto his doctor. With a sensuous smile on his lips and half-lidded eyes, John rests his back on the soft mattress and Sherlock works his way up the man’s body, straddling his hips. He kisses along John’s jawline and licks the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue. John squirms under his touch. Another ticklish spot to store away in his mind palace. Exploring John’s body is becoming very interesting to say the least.

Sherlock moves to John’s neck and collar bones, licking his way from one side to the other. He licks into the suprasternal notch and then rests his head against John’s chest. The smooth skin is soft on his cheek and he inhales deeply. Sherlock has never felt more comfortable or more at ease with anyone in his life. It is mind boggling and absolutely perfect. He raises his head to rest his chin on John’s chest and meets his eyes.

“How did you come to me?” Sherlock whispers, shaking his head slightly. “I was certain I would never love again.”

He tilts his head and looks at John with a thoughtful expression. The doctor gazes back and brushes the curls from Sherlock’s forehead with gentle fingers.

“After Victor,” Sherlock sighs heavily, a note of sorrow creeping into his tone, “I vowed to never give my heart to anyone again. Then I walked into Greg’s office and there you were. My stomach flipped just at the sight of you.”

“What? You’re not serious,” John huffs an incredulous laugh. “No, you’re having me on. You avoided me for days. Weeks. I was convinced you didn’t like me at all.”

“I did like you, John, and that is precisely why I avoided you,” Sherlock replies almost accusingly. “I was trying to keep my distance and stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, well, a valiant effort,” John chuckles with a knowing glint in his eye. He brushes that errant curl away from Sherlock’s forehead again. “Didn’t work though, did it?”

“No,” Sherlock says simply.

“And that’s… good?”John hesitates, suddenly unsure of Sherlock’s meaning. Unacceptable.

“Very good,” Sherlock lowers his voice an octave and fixes John with a searing gaze that both disarms the doctor and convinces him that Sherlock’s answer is true.

John’s shoulders, in fact his whole body, relaxes into the mattress and he smiles up at Sherlock. He hides nothing, his face is completely open. Sherlock studies him a moment, just to make sure everything is right, because he has to know and he can’t stop himself. He can see in John’s eyes that he knows what Sherlock is doing and he nods, every so slightly, his approval.

Sherlock reads him in an instant and sees love so deep, it could hold the ocean and still not fill up, and John knows. He knows what he feels and that Sherlock loves him back, and he is not frightened in the least. Sherlock leans more heavily into the muscles and flesh of John’s chest again, suddenly overwhelmed by his deductions. He takes a deep, grounding breath and focuses on nothing in particular over John’s left shoulder. His nerves must show because John cups his face gently and strokes his thumb over a cheekbone.

“It’s okay,” John whispers into the space between them. “There is no time table here. We do things at our own pace. I won’t push. I know what I said...about wanting to stay, but if it’s too fast… I’ll go back to my place, if you want.”

“You most certainly will not,” Sherlock announces in a petulant and forbidding tone with an expression to match. He lifts himself to prop on his elbows and glares down at John.

“Okay, okay,” John laughs. “I get it. You want me to...stay.”

The last word comes out slowly as John traces Sherlock’s cheekbone with great care, gentle affection on his face. Sherlock flashes a small, but brilliant smile and lowers his head to catch John’s lips with his own. The kiss is unhurried, not at all like the ones they shared before, but it is no less passionate. Love radiates from one man to the other like heat and both have a heady feeling when they part.

“This is your bed now,” Sherlock breathes and god, he can’t wait to spend a whole night in it with John. Tonight and every night after, and each one will feel like the first time all over again. He can see it in his mind palace. The two of them tucked under the blankets, resting their heads on one another, talking and kissing and touching.

“Our bed,” John’s soft voice pulls Sherlock from his reverie just as it was becoming interesting. He looks into John’s eyes and sees a promise meant only for him. A warm feeling moves slowly through his body, beginning where John’s thumb still touches his cheekbone. It is like the point of light in Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It has brought Sherlock out of the darkness and back to life.

Sherlock covers John’s hand with his own and tilts his head into the touch. He is calm, serene, and it is a new feeling for him. Sherlock typically has a thousand things rolling around in his head and that constant state of motion, fluid though it is, comes with a certain degree of tension. That is when it hits him: His mind is clear. Not blank, not at all. Everything is still there in the great room of his mind palace, the room that acts as the meeting point for all of his thoughts, but it’s...clear...and quiet. Every thought is neatly stored and no one item, or group of items, screams for his attention. He is free. His mind is free. Free to focus on John, only John.

John.

Sherlock turns his head into John’s hand as he holds it close and presses a gentle kiss to his palm. He blinks once slowly and does not move a muscle. Neither does John as he stares back into steady grey eyes. They gaze at one another for an untold amount of time. Sherlock spends a great deal of it soaking in the many shades of blue in John’s eyes and naming them. Some are obvious: cerulean, oxford, cobalt, Persian, sapphire, and pale blue. Some he has never seen before and names himself: captain blue, sea salt, Hamish. Sherlock chuckles softly at the humor of the last one and John tilts his head curiously.

“What?” John asks with an answering grin and then jokes. “Something on my nose?”

“No,” Sherlock laughs again, “nothing like that. It’s just...you. I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe I’m letting myself do this again. I know, I know.”

He shifts an arm to put a finger on John’s lips when he makes to object. Sherlock fixes him with a serious eye, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

“I shouldn’t compare you to him, or this relationship to that one, but it’s so hard,” Sherlock sighs and slides off of John’s body. Lying on his side flush against John, Sherlock props up on one elbow and rests his head on his hand, leaving his other hand to stroke John’s chest in smooth patterns. “I collect data, John. You’ve seen me do it. I’ve done it to you. It’s in my nature to compare and contrast that data.”

“Sherlock, that’s okay. That’s you,” John folds an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders, to hold him gently to his naked torso. The skin exposed by Sherlock’s open shirt touches John’s and it is delicious, hot and smooth. “If you have done it to me then you know I am nothing like Victor, and could never be.”

Sherlock opens his mouth, but John holds up a finger this time and gives him a very serious look, brows raised like an actor who has messed up his line and is trying to keep everyone else from laughing so they can continue filming.

“No, no, okay?” John says by way of keeping Sherlock quiet. There is a short pause between them as they both look into one another’s eyes. “You say you compare and contrast it. I think you’ll see more differences than similarities in me and our relationship, and it’ll work in our favor. Hopefully.”

He adds the last word with some hesitation and an awkward smile. Sherlock rests his hand on John’s head, stroking through his short hair. He wears a fond expression, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Absolutely,” Sherlock tells him with assurance. “You bear no resemblance whatsoever. It’s just…”

He stops, paused in time. He cannot tear his eyes from John’s deep blue gaze. So honest and open, and also concerned. His forehead is wrinkled and his brows are still raised as he waits for Sherlock to find the words.

“I vowed I would never love again. I’ve spent years blocking out romantic love and emotion. I had a plan for my life,” he explains in earnest, “and then you happened.”

They are both silent. The words hang in the air around them and John’s expression is unreadable. Or is it? John almost looks nervous, but surely that can’t be. Sherlock is the one confessing his fears. Well, not fears...his past. Everything he decided long ago when he was still hurt and bleeding, when he thought love would only bring him pain. That was all changed the moment he met John and now Sherlock looks ahead to their future together with a hope and excitement he thought he would never have. He just can’t seem to find the words to say it. Sherlock wrinkles his own brow in frustration.

“And that’s... good?” John’s voice rises more than normal at the question and Sherlock frowns. None of this is working. He is trying to explain himself and is only making things worse. He must find the words to put John’s concerns, concerns he stirred up in the first place, to rest.

“Very good. Fantastic,” Sherlock says quickly. Too quickly and he still sees the doubt in John’s eyes. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

He tilts his head in his hand and rests the other on John’s chest again as he looks him in the eye. His breath catches as he tries to continue. He can feel the beat of John’s heart beneath his palm, strong and sure. It’s steadiness keeps this man alive and Sherlock with him.

“I felt something for you immediately,” the words tumble from Sherlock’s lips and he is not even sure where they are coming from because his mind feels blissfully empty, save John. ”That’s no secret. I tried to resist, but it was a hopeless endeavor, and then it filled me and my soul. After that it became a battle with myself to not express my feelings.”

“Not express them?” John looks at Sherlock straight on, confusion plain on his face. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? Why hide it like that?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you off,” Sherlock shrugs, looking at him meaningfully. “You were determined you couldn’t love anyone and it was all so new between us. I knew you would run if I announced that I loved you, if for no other reason than to keep me from being hurt.”

John’s brows lower with his narrowing eyes. His lips press into a thin line with down-turned ends. Sherlock can see his warring thoughts in the lines on his face. John used to be so guarded and Sherlock could seldom deduce him after that first day, but more recently, since Baltimore, John has let Sherlock see and know more. Now is no exception as John debates between denying Sherlock’s assertion or agreeing with it.

John opens his mouth to protest. His eyes are sharp and his brow knitted in disapproval. He inhales, readying to speak the denial on his lips, and then his expression softens. He lets his shoulders sink back into the mattress as the tension in his muscles loosens.

“Fuck,” John mutters, looking down at Sherlock’s hand still resting on his chest. “You’re probably right,” he looks up to meet Sherlock’s eyes. “I probably would have.”

The corners of John’s mouth curl up slightly, but his eyes look pained and regretful. It is a sad smile he wears and Sherlock wants to kiss it away. He slides his hand down to touch John’s arm almost shyly and John’s face brightens. He blinks slowly, just once, his blue gaze on Sherlock. John’s smile grows as he brushes that same wayward curl off of Sherlock’s forehead and looks at him fondly.

“For the record, when you did say it, it was good. Brilliant. I couldn’t believe my luck,” John beams, even as Sherlock gives him a haughty shake of his head.

“You didn’t believe me,” he retorts, swatting John’s bicep.

“Can you blame me?” John asks in a defensive tone. “We’d only just met and...and you’re you.”

“What?” Sherlock wrinkles his nose. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m me,” John continues without acknowledging the question.

“John Watson,” Sherlock stops him in a commanding tone, “are you implying that I am ‘out of your league’?”

“Well,” John swallows and pulls back a bit for a better look at Sherlock, hesitant and pensive. “Yeah, actually.”

Sherlock huffs.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” he straightens his long neck to gaze down at John imperiously. “That is utter nonsense. What on earth would lead you to that conclusion?”

“Oh, come on,” John snarks. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you are a golden-skinned surfer with a brilliant mind,” the coach quips. “Honestly, John, you do not do yourself justice.”

“All right, maybe,” John remarks hastily, shifting his body restlessly. “What I meant to say is that once you did tell me how you felt, I didn’t know what to say, but I was glad you told me. I did feel lucky and happy. However confused I was about my own feelings, it made me feel…”

John hesitates and glances away from Sherlock’s face to pale chest, biting his lower lip and second guessing himself. Sherlock gives his arm a squeeze of reassurance to let John know that he can always speak his mind without worry. John sighs deeply, still not raising his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” John finally looks at him with soulful eyes. “It made me feel...well, warm. And safe and...free somehow. That’s the exact opposite of how I’ve felt in literally every other relationship I’ve been in. I knew it was something different, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around what it was.”

“I knew you loved me,” Sherlock confesses and then adds. “Before you told me.”

“What?” John’s gaze is on him now, unwavering. He wears a critical frown and his face is scrunched up in a way that usually precedes grumpiness. God, why did Sherlock even say that?

“But I had no way of knowing whether or not you would realize it,” the words pop from his mouth before he can stop them. John’s frown deepens. What the hell is Sherlock doing? Is forcing an argument really the best way to spend their first night in their bed?

“Wait, what?” John asks again, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“And then Moriarty took you.” Jesus Christ, is there no way to stop this outpouring of idiocy? What is wrong with him? Sherlock fidgets in John’s arms, pulling away and thinking about how quickly he can dash into the bathroom.

“Sherlock, stop. Stop,” John curls his arm tighter around Sherlock’s shoulders and lays a hand on his bicep, both regain his attention and keep him from running. They meet eyes once again and Sherlock notices that John’s are soft and searching, not at all like the growing annoyance he expected to see. “You knew I loved you, but didn’t think I would figure it out? You didn’t think I’d return your feelings?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answers honestly. No point in denying anything now. John lets out a quick breath, almost like sigh but with a sound of dismay to it.

“And you were just going to resign yourself to that?” his tone is light, as though tip-toeing around a subject that would make Sherlock suddenly realize what a fool he had been to pin his hopes on John. As if anything could ward him away from this man.

“I wasn’t resigning myself to anything,” Sherlock snaps defensively. “You had expressed your interest and clearly cared for me. It was only a matter of your own self-realization.”

“Right,” John replies unconvinced.

Sherlock gives a frustrated sigh and resolutely ignores the doctor’s skepticism as he trails a hand down John’s sleek chest to his belly, coming to rest on his belt buckle. John shivers, but does not lower his eyes or even glance away from Sherlock’s.

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” Sherlock announces with certainty. “You did realize it.”

John is still staring and silent.

“Problem?” the taller man asks, beginning to wonder how they got on this subject and wishing they hadn’t if John is going to look at him like that.

“What? No. No, I guess not,” John replies almost absently. He has the distinct appearance of someone trying to organize a great many thoughts. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle.”

“Settle?” Sherlock repeats in an incredulous tone.

“Yeah,” John confirms. “For the likes of me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Sherlock says dismissively, sitting up in the bed.

“I’m serious,” John sits up and turns his body to face him fully, bending his legs and tucking one under the other. “If I had never pulled my head out of my ass… Sherlock, why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, John, I am,” Sherlock tries to stifle his mirth, but still giggles in between every other word. “The very idea that being with you is ‘settling’ is such nonsense.”

John’s frown grows as he watches Sherlock continue to laugh at his expense. The taller man shakes his head and places a hand on John’s naked chest. The skin is warm to his cool fingers and palm, and his heart flutters behind his ribs. His laughter finally fades and the eyes he casts upon John have a solemnity they had not before.

“You are the kindest, bravest and wisest man I have ever known. To see that as settling for anything is preposterous. I would stay by your side with a smile on my face until the world ends,” Sherlock cuts off his voice with the snap of his mouth closing, but not quickly enough.

Jesus Christ, he really is an idiot. That sounded like nothing less than a marriage proposal or at the very least, ‘I’m fully committed to you. Let’s stay together forever’. For god’s sake, he just told John he didn’t want to drive him away. So the next natural step is to, of course, bring up the desire for a life-long relationship.

Fuck.

Sherlock closes his eyes slowly as the full magnitude of his stupidity washes over him. He wants to jump off the bed, lock himself into the nearest room master bath, and disappear into his mind palace for at least a month. Frankly, he is surprised John hasn’t beaten him to it. Seems like the appropriate response for what he just blurted. That’s when Sherlock realizes that John has not moved. Not an inch. In fact, there is a gentle pressure on Sherlock’s knee like John is actually touching him instead of fleeing. It is warm and welcoming, and exudes no hesitance or awkwardness.

Armed with that knowledge, and curious as hell, Sherlock opens his eyes to see John still sitting before him. He wears a small and somewhat disbelieving, but pleased smile. The hand on Sherlock’s knee gives a little squeeze that actually tickles. He suppresses the urge to jerk away or move at all, wanting to hide the ticklish spot from John. He has observed a few such areas on John’s body and wants to keep the upper hand. Unfortunately, his efforts seem to be in vain because John’s expression does nothing less than advertise the fact that he knows exactly what he has just found. Aside from that, John’s face is difficult to interpret.

“John,” Sherlock begins abruptly, set upon laughing this off or explaining it away.

“Really?” John interrupts in a quiet tone that brims with anticipation and...hope?

Sherlock frowns and fixes John with a probing gaze, presenting the polar opposite of what is going on in his mind. His mind palace has just run completely off the rails with joy. He would be leaping through the air as ticker tape fell from above if he didn’t feel the need to maintain a cool and collected exterior until he can suss this out. Sherlock takes a moment to consider John’s demeanor, posture and this one word he has uttered. He cannot believe what is found:

Against all odds, John is pleased, pleased by Sherlock’s verbal diarrhea.

Sherlock blinks once, twice, a third time. His body is entirely still. He cannot believe his ears and must be dreaming. This conversation cannot be real, but it is. Energy and electricity pulse through Sherlock’s body with frightening speed as excitement fills his veins and threatens to burst from their thin walls. He wants nothing more than to throw his arms open wide and shout to the heavens that John Watson wants to spend his entire life with him, Sherlock Holmes, but he must remain calm and rational now. He doesn’t want to overwhelm John and has to pace himself.

“Yes,” Sherlock answers honestly, his eyes widening as he does. That is not at all what he had planned to say. Paralyzed, his surprise so complete he cannot even berate himself for this slip-up. He simply watches John with trepidation and regret. God, why didn’t he just lie? He could have said any number of things, the least of which was ‘Hell, yeah, I meant it’.

Sherlock is about to close his eyes a second time, but does not. Instead, they widen further as the corners of John’s mouth turn up into a big and very genuine smile. John’s thumb slides smoothly back and forth over Sherlock’s knee, and light dances in his blue eyes.

“Me too,” John says in a voice so sincere that the words jet straight into Sherlock’s soul and his heart swells with a kind of joy he could never conceive of without this man. He has found it. His perfect puzzle piece, as his mother used to say. Molly calls it the other half of his heart. His lobster. Wait, what? Goddamn those absurd NBC sitcoms for entering his psyche!

Whatever the label, he and John were meant to be.

Without another thought, Sherlock’s hand raises to touch John’s cheek deftly. He nearly jerks with the jolt of electricity that whizzes through his body anew and nearly snatches his hand back at the shock of it. He silently marvels at it. Its surprise and pleasure, its comfort. How can just one touch mean so much? Sherlock almost laughs at himself. He is handling John more carefully than anything in his life and apparently, John finds it just as amusing.

“I won’t break,” the doctor chuckles quietly. His hand on Sherlock’s knee is warmer than ever now. The flesh beneath his trousers simmers at the touch of it. Sherlock huffs a breath.

“I know. It’s just…” he wets his lips. Every inch of Sherlock’s body tingles with anticipation and desire, but he holds his hand steady. He sighs, damn near frustration. “God, I want to touch you. I want all of you.”

“I want that too,” John gazes deeply into those grey eyes and leans forward to graze his lips over Sherlock’s, eliciting a gasp from the coach. “So come and get me.”

He slides his hand up Sherlock’s long thigh, stopping dangerously close to his groin. Sherlock gasps again as his body tingles and tenses. John’s lips quirk up and he slides his hand up over Sherlock’s belt to the skin exposed by his open shirt. He sighs when he rests his fingertips against Sherlock’s belly and an undisguised shiver runs through John’s body.

“John,” the name comes out in a quiet rush of breath. Sherlock’s hand lifts of its own volition and cradles John’s cheek. The doctor leans into the touch, his sparkling eyes speaking to Sherlock as clearly as any words could.

Yes.

The fingers of both hands are dancing up Sherlock’s torso now. Palms that push the shirt open further come to rest on his chest and John’s eyes glide up the remainder of the way, drinking in his long pale neck and sharp cheekbones until John meets Sherlock’s eyes with an adoring gaze. The coach’s lips part as he feels the gravity of it and oh, how he wants. He wants to touch John and feel his body pressing back. He absolutely cannot wait another minute.

Sherlock leans forward, letting his eyes close just before his lips press against John’s. Another gentle kiss and he pulls back to look at his lover again. John looks amazing and wrecked and hungry, so hungry. His gaze darts down to Sherlock’s mouth and back up. His palms burning hot on Sherlock’s pectorals, pressed over peaked nipples. It feels exquisite. God, it feels perfect.

Sherlock swoops back in, this time with his mouth open and his tongue licking along John’s lips. The doctor parts them and the wet heat of their mouths coalesce, sharing the same breath. Their tongues slide together and Sherlock tilts John’s head with his hands on either side of John’s face to deepen the kiss. John’s fingertips dig into the skin of Sherlock’s chest, his fingers instinctively curling to grab a fistful of shirt where it has already been pushed aside. He knows just how the doctor feels. He wants to be closer, deeper, stronger. He wants to touch every inch of John’s body with his own. He wants to be on top of him again, inside him.

Surging forward, Sherlock pushes John onto his back with force, their lips never parting. John’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing the shirt off of them. Sherlock releases the doctor’s face long enough to tear the sleeves from his own arms and throw the shirt to the floor. His hands are instantly back on John’s body, holding him while they kiss and lick and suck at one another’s lips and tongues. Sherlock breaks away to mouth down John’s neck, lick, nibble and suck along his collarbones.

“Jesus, Sherlock,” John moans. His hands stroke the man’s back, gliding up his neck and tangling in his curls. “God, yes. Yes.”

Sherlock takes a nipple between his lips and sucks. He flicks with the tip of his tongue and smiles around his ministrations as John writhes beneath him.

“Shit,” John curses breathlessly while Sherlock moves to the other nipple. His hands rove over his lover’s body as he thrusts up to meet it. “Fuck. Come here. Come here now.”

His hands cup Sherlock’s face and pull him up gently, but firmly to crash their lips together again. For god knows how long, they both give and take in turn, caressing and lavishing attention on one another. Sherlock yelps when John heaves his body unexpectedly and rolls them over so his legs astride the man’s hips. His hands are in between their bodies, scrabbling at Sherlock’s belt and trousers. The coach reaches down to help, but focuses on John’s zipper instead. They each scramble to get their own trousers off, John rolling off of Sherlock to divest himself of every stitch of clothing on his body.

When they meet again, they are on their sides and kissing with passion, a frenzy of emotion each can feel down to his core. Their arms are wrapped around each other, groins rubbing frantically. Both moan at the friction and buck their hips, desperate for more. Climax is ever-present, getting closer, so close, and then Sherlock stops. He pulls away to catch his breath and looks at John with his cheeks flushed pink and lips kiss swollen. Beautiful.

“What?” John gasps, his brow already wrinkled with worry. He swallows and pants, searching Sherlock’s eyes. “What is it? Is it too much? I can slow down. We can go slow if you need to, if you need some time.”

“No,” Sherlock blurts between gasps. “I don’t want slow.”

Sherlock presses his lips together and then parts them, taking a little time to regain control of his rapid breathing. John does the same, still watching him with concern. Finally, Sherlock bites his lip and places a hand on John’s naked hip. The skin is on fire and Sherlock nearly moans at the heat of it.

“I want you,” he begins tentatively. “All of you and god, I can have you. I want...I want to be inside you.”

Sherlock finishes in a rush as if he has to sneak the words past John so he will agree before he realizes what has been said. Sherlock has never felt more nervous in all his life. No championship has ever come close to this, and he is beginning to think he has fucked everything up because John is just staring at him, agog. He isn’t even blinking. Shit. Shit. Sherlock cringes at his own presumption and stupidity. John had mentioned this before - there’s no fucking way Sherlock could forget - but he had turned him down. Sherlock had wanted it. Of course, he did, but he had wanted John to know he loved Sherlock before they took that step, even if it meant they would never take it. Now has he ruined things by bringing it up without ever explaining himself first?

An apology on his tongue, Sherlock opens his mouth, but John speaks before he can say a word and the doctor’s words render him mute with shock.

“You would want to do that?” John’s voice is quiet and startled. “Before, you said no. I thought...you didn’t want that… with me.”

“No. No, no, no,” Sherlock cups John’s face in his hands. His voice is urgent, but soft. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel that. I just...wanted you to know you loved me before we…” he sighs deeply and allows himself this vulnerability. “It’s important to me. I don’t just take men to bed.”

“I know. I know, and I do,” John breathes and cracks a small smile. “I love you, Sherlock. God, I love you so much.”

Sherlock grins brightly at those words, his whole face shining, and he leans in to kiss his doctor. It is only a tender brush of lips, but it starts an incredible feeling of anticipation that spreads throughout his body in seconds. When the kiss ends, Sherlock exhales a shaky breath and rests his forehead against John’s for a moment before pulling back to see his face.

“So now the question is do you want that, John?” he asks breathlessly, nervously. He looks unflinchingly into John’s eyes and hides nothing. All of his thoughts and feelings are laid bare, exposed for John to see. His needs and desires and, above all, his love for John so deeply rooted in his soul he can no longer remember his life without it. He watches John as he sees it all and melts.

“Oh god,” John whispers in a quick gasp. “Yes. God, yes.”

That is all Sherlock needs. He dives in and kisses John to within an inch of his life. Then he trails kisses and lips and licks down John’s torso, pushing him onto his back as he goes. His lover strokes his shoulders and tangles fingers in his curls, all the while moaning soft curses and encouragement. Sherlock wiggles in between John’s legs, spreading them wide as he works his way down John’s body.

“Jesus. Oh, god,” John sighs, letting his head fall back only to jerk it up again when Sherlock licks a stripe down his shaft, tip to root, and then does not stop. “Fuck! Sherlock! What..ooohhhhh...are you doing?!”

Sherlock’s only answer is cupping John’s balls and licking across his hole. John’s whole body shudders in surprise and profound pleasure, even as he squirms to stop him.

“Sherlock,” John gasps frantically, “you don’t have to.”

Warmth that starts low in Sherlock’s belly radiates out into every corner of his body. It is a sense of arousal he can barely believe or contain. Every nerve, every damn molecule is alive with the sensation and the desire to take John apart piece by piece.

“Do I look like I have reservations?” he asks quietly and more articulately than he expected. He looks up at John from under long, dark lashes, his face still a hair’s breadth from John’s ass.

“Oh, fuck,” John’s pupils swallow the color in his eyes and his breath stutters.

“I want all of you, John,” Sherlock repeats. “I want this. Please.”

“Oh, god. Yes. Yes,” John answers desperately. “I want it too. I want you, love you so much. You’re perfect. You’re…”

The words die in John’s throat as Sherlock spreads his cheeks to lick at first and then thrust his tongue in, licking a circle around the tight heat. John cries out and squirms, helpless to desire and pleasure. Sherlock continues thrusting in and out, licking and mouthing. He takes turns with his mouth and lubed fingers as he works John open. All the while John writhes and curses and tugs lightly at Sherlock’s curls.

When he is satisfied with his work, Sherlock buries his tongue one last time and wiggles it before thrusting once more. His intention is a final gesture that opens the door to more, but it proves to be too much for the doctor and John’s body suddenly jerks beneath him. Uncontrollable spasms rack John’s body and he is cursing loudly, his head thrown back. John is coming hard, his penis straining against its own skin and completely untouched. Sherlock feels a tinge of regret at that, but knows there will be more opportunities to explore. Instead, he kisses John’s thighs and uses his fingers to ride it out, brushing John’s prostate with a feather-soft touch and John comes again with a sudden spurt onto his own belly.

“Fuck!” he shouts, gasping for breath and clenching his fists in the sheets. He rasps on breathlessly as the orgasm ebbs. “Oh, fuck. God. Fuck. Sherlock.”

John pants heavy and deep as he opens his eyes to look at Sherlock. He swallows hard around great gulps of air and wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before reaching for the lanky coach.

“Goddamn, Sherlock,” John’s voice is hoarse and cracking under the weight of his rapid breaths. “Jesus Christ, Sherlock, get inside me. I want you now. I want your cock.”

Obliging instantly and nearly bursting, Sherlock lines them up and pushes in slowly, sending a moan from both their lips. Thank god they’re both clean, he has no patience for a condom right now. Fighting his own body and most of his mind, he carefully pulls out a bit and slowly pushes back in. He does not want to hurt John by being too enthusiastic, though he quickly sees that he needn’t have worried. John’s body is more than ready and apparently, so is John. The doctor grabs Sherlock’s hips with both hands and thrust hard, tearing a loud cry of ecstasy from Sherlock’s lips. With stars already in his vision, he meets John’s blown eyes and is greeted with lust and desperation.

“Ride me,” John demands. “Take me. Take me hard.”

With those words, Sherlock loses all control. He knows he isn’t going to last long after all of John’s cries and spectacular release, so he works quickly. He thrusts into John hard again and again, stopping suddenly with his tip against John’s prostate and a curse on John’s lips.

“Fuck! Fucking yes. Yes!” John’s hands are gripping Sherlock’s hips, his body tense and slick with sweat and meeting his thrusts perfectly.

Sherlock loses all sense of space and time, always hitting that spot with each new thrust. John’s arms fly up, his fingers clutching and scratching at Sherlock’s shoulders and arms, anywhere he can gain purchase. Before long, Sherlock slows his pace, knowing it is coming soon. A hot, spiraling surge of pleasure coils in his belly and every bit of him tenses deliciously as he chases his release. Its rings burst apart in an explosion of heat and wet and rapture, and Sherlock is completely taken apart by the force of it. He shouts and thrusts and twitches, joy and sensation swallowing him whole and drawing him down deep into a part of his mind palace he has never seen before, some of it being built right before his eyes. He had already made a whole wing for John, but this is different. This is their space. Every detail designed for the two of them, to hold every feeling they experience together and hold every memory they make. The first to find quarters in this new place is John’s face, as well as Sherlock’s, the moment he said ‘I love you. Sherlock, I love you’.

Those are the words Sherlock hears when he opens his eyes. He is lying on his back on the soft warmth of his bed. John is hunched over him, looking into his eyes with undisguised concern. Sherlock blinks a few times in confusion, trying to get his bearings and decipher what has happened. He must have lost himself too completely in his mind palace and toppled over onto John, who then rolled him onto his back.

“John?” Sherlock croaks, his throat rough and dry.

“Sherlock, thank god,” John’s voice is full of equal parts worry and relief as he touches Sherlock’s damp brow and cheeks. “Your pulse is too fast. Just breathe. Slowly now. Try to slow it down.”

Obeying the doctor without question, Sherlock concentrates and breathes measurably until his body resumes its normal rhythm. John presses two fingers to his neck and counts out his pulse. Happy with his findings, he lets out a long sigh and smiles.

“There we are. Just too carried away for a minute there,” he brushes a curl from Sherlock’s forehead. “Nothing to worry about.”

Sherlock’s heart skips a beat at the soft affection of the touch and he smiles up at his lover. He starts to sit up, reaching for John as he goes, but John stops him with a firm hand on each bicep.

“Wait, wait,” he pushes him down and then laughs at the petulant frown on Sherlock’s face. “We need to get cleaned up, that’s all. Don’t get stroppy, all right?”

He hops off the bed, grabbing a random sock off the floor and holding it to his own belly to keep the mess covering his torso from smearing or dripping as he hurries to the master bath. Sherlock hears water running as he looks down at himself. His groin is slick with lube and saliva and semen. The sight of it gives him the most ridiculous sense of satisfaction and contentment. He inhales deeply and lets it out slowly while stretching his whole body luxuriously like a cat lying in the warm light of the sun.

“Here’s a flannel,” John says upon his return, offering Sherlock a damp washcloth. He takes it, a blank look on his face. John adds with a crooked smile. “To wash off.”

“I know what it’s for,” Sherlock snaps irritably, more so than he intended. He softens his tone again to continue. “But what did you call it?”

“A flannel,” John replies simply. “What do you call it?”

“A washcloth. Obvious. That’s what it is,” Sherlock supplies with a grin and stifled giggle. John narrows his eyes and swats Sherlock’s leg playfully.

“Just clean up, you tosser.”

“Tosser? Oh, that’s a new one,” Sherlock teases, rolling toward the doctor. “Tell me what that one means.”

He reaches out quickly to grab John’s wrist and pull him back into bed, but the man is too quick, just dodging his outstretched fingers. After a couple of jogged steps, John slows to a walk and heads for the bathroom again, still completely naked. Sherlock’s lips curl up as he watches that ass tip from side to side with the natural swing of John’s hips. He also can’t miss the fact that John’s left hand is behind his back, middle finger raised in a rude gesture for Sherlock to see. The coach laughs as John turns in the doorway to look at him.

“Piss off,” John remarks with no venom. His grin lights the room and Sherlock feels like he is home, but like no other he has ever known. Wherever this man is, is home and Sherlock never wants to be anywhere else again.

“I’m going to shower,” John informs him, assuming a business-like tone. Sherlock watches him slyly, knowing he is putting it on. “If you can stop all the teasing, you can join me.”

“Why should I stop? I rather enjoy it,” Sherlock gives him a cheeky grin and eyes John with approval. Not giving him a chance to answer the question, Sherlock raises the washcloth to punctuate his next question. “Why bother with this if you’re going to shower?”

“So you aren’t such a sticky mess when I snog you senseless,” John chooses to answer only the last question. He turns away and gives a swish of his ass as he looks over his shoulder. “Coming?”

Sherlock is frozen for a moment after John disappears into the other room. His eyes are wide and mouth hanging open, in spite of himself. His life is forever changed by the beautiful, wonderful man in his bathroom. Their bathroom. Sherlock looks at the washcloth in his hand, down at himself and then back to the doorway that once held John. A smile spreads across his face as he muses at how this could even be possible. Only a few months ago, things were so different. He was happy, but now… His lobster.

Sherlock springs into motion with the sound of water bursting from the shower head. He quickly wipes himself up as best he can in a rush and runs for the open door, steam already drifting out from within. He wraps his arms around John’s waist soundly as soon as he enters and presses a kiss to one firm shoulder blade. John is under the spray with his eyes closed, arms raised and hands skimming over his wet hair. He smiles fondly, wipes the water from his eyes and face, and lowers his hands to rest upon the taller man’s. Sherlock props his chin on John’s shoulder.

“Hello, beautiful,” John says, tilting his head down to look at their joined hands.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispers, his lips millimeters from John’s ear. He tightens his hold and kisses John’s neck gently.

***

An hour later and they are both settling into bed again. John is on his back with Sherlock just lying down next to him. He folds his arm around the taller man as Sherlock rests his cheek on John’s bare shoulder. Both elected to put on boxer briefs rather than pajamas and John revels in pure delight at the decision. Although, part of him wonders why they put anything on at all. Clearly something to be rectified in the future. In the meantime, Sherlock’s bare legs tangle with his and the warm, naked chest pressed up against his body is heavenly. With a sigh, John rests his hand on the man’s pale skin, inclining his head to touch it to his lover’s crown. The soft, dark curls tickle his cheek as he rests it against them. His fingers move up from the small of Sherlock’s back to the nape of his neck to play with those gorgeous curls, fingertips twisting in the damp rings and freeing tiny droplets.

John opens his mouth to speak, but a wave of realization crashes over him instead. His lover. His lover. His. This is his flat now. The one he shares with Sherlock. Well, as soon as he moves things out of his current flat and into this one. He and Sherlock will be together now. Forever. That’s what Sherlock wants and the more John thinks about it, the more he wants it too. To be by Sherlock’s side. To talk to him and touch him and share a bed with him. To be with him always. Christ, it’s amazing. Life with Sherlock. In this world, in this flat. The two of them against the world. It nearly takes his breath away. He must have moved or gasped or something at the thought because Sherlock tilts his face toward John’s and looks at him with curious eyes.

“All right?” he asks in a deep voice, a sexy purr to John’s ears. A blissful grin spreads across John’s face as that delightful warm feeling pools low in his belly again.

“Yeah,” John answers, smoothing down the curls he twisted into tight ringlets. “I’m good. Perfect, in fact.”

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Sherlock laughs, his body shaking with it. John chuckles with him and shoves at his shoulder.

“It feels perfect then,” John corrects himself. “Is that better?”

“Mm, yes, but still highly subjective,” the taller man teases. “I would expect a man of science to be more methodical and draw conclusions based upon serious analysis.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” John asks, mimicking Sherlock’s haughtiness. He knows for a fact that Sherlock knows exactly what he is doing, but he does not let on. Instead, he simply watches John with narrowed eyes, his mouth curled smugly. “You don’t spend every hour of every day and night with me.”

“I will now,” Sherlock’s lips grow into the grin of a cheshire cat. A gleam flashes in his eyes. “Especially at night.”

John leans down and catches his mouth in a rather insistent kiss. He wants to tell Sherlock so much, everything that is in his heart. He pours it all into this kiss, wanting and willing Sherlock to understand, to see it all without John saying a single word. He knows he cannot get away with that and doesn’t really want to. He has to say it, wants to say it again and again for the rest of his life. All of his days with Sherlock, and nights, as Sherlock reminded him.

John shivers and brings the kiss to an end. Looking into Sherlock’s grey eyes, John sees that understanding. Sherlock knows all and sees all. He’s too damn clever for his own good and John absolutely adores him for it.

“I’m counting on it,” John says quietly. His hand drifts along Sherlock’s collarbone to his long neck. He dances his fingertips up the pale skin to jawline and chin, resting his palm over an angular cheek as he speaks. “D’you know this is our first night in our bed?”

“The thought had occurred, yes,” Sherlock gives a decisive nod. “We have already christened it in the physical sense, and now the emotional,” he looks at John with a knowing expression. “Sentiment.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” John wriggles down a little so his face is closer to Sherlock’s. “Billy mentioned you’re no good with that.”

“Did he?” Sherlock smiles ruefully. “He is not wrong. Although, I would like to think I’ve made some progress on that front.”

“You have,” John replies in a measured tone, but wearing a wide grin on his face.

“Under the appropriate tutelage, of course,” Sherlock continues, nonreactive to John’s jest.

“And you found a true expert to teach you too,” John adds cheekily. “A master of the craft.”

Sherlock snorts at that and John immediately joins in, both unable to hold it in any longer.

“At least I finally got my shit together,” John remarks when the sound of their giggles dies down.

“Indeed,” Sherlock chuckles, resting his palm on John’s chest and lifting his head to look him in the eye, “and I am deeply grateful.”

“Sherlock,” John says with a sudden seriousness that surprises even him. He sees it reflected back in the coach’s expression and rushes to speak before Sherlock’s big brain can start conjuring doubts. “I was stupid. I made myself so blind I couldn’t see what was right in front of me, but I do now.”

He pauses to wet his lips and gathers his courage for what he wants to say next. He expects it to be difficult and then he realizes that it isn’t hard at all. Saying this, declaring his feelings, feels like the most natural thing he has ever done. Everything is with Sherlock.

“I love you, Sherlock and I’m going to spend my whole life telling you and showing you just how much. It all starts here in this bed, in this flat, right now,” John tells him sincerely, covering those long fingers on his chest with his own. “I love you and I want to tell everyone. I want to shout it from the goddamn rooftops.”

They both laugh again for a moment. Still wearing a soft smile, John meets Sherlock’s eyes and touches a hand to his cheek. His fingers cradle the smooth skin and he slides his thumb over one beautiful cheekbone, capturing this moment so he can hold onto it forever.

“My life is yours,” John says simply in a quiet voice, “for as long as you want it.”

Sherlock’s lips curve upward and he looks at John with tears in his eyes. He shifts up John’s body until they are shoulder to shoulder and cups John’s face with both hands. Gazing into blue eyes, Sherlock leans toward his doctor and kisses him softly, sweetly, in a way he will repeat over and over again as the years drift by.

“And mine is yours,” he says in a hushed voice.

They share a kiss so deep, so honest and open, one that tells them both so much that they can scarcely catch their breath when their lips part.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispers against John’s lips.

“I love you,” John breathes back.

Their words, breaths, and lives mingle together to create one.

They rest their foreheads together and sigh, sharing in the perfect silence of the room. Their own breathing, now coming in identical puffs, is the only noise in the air around them. They both settle into bed again, heads ensconced in pillows and arms enfolding one another.

John’s eyes grow heavy quickly and he almost does not notice when Sherlock drifts off, but the coach gives himself away when he snuffles quietly and snuggles close. John smiles to himself as his eyes close, ready now for sleep to come. In the last ten nights, his last thought before his brain passes into its rest cycle has been of The Crown and his rescue. The dreams that follow rule his sleep as they show him the different ways it could have played out.

More often than not, the dreams have had an alternate ending in which things went poorly. One night when he, Sherlock and Greg were all in DC to meet with the Board the dream ended with Sherlock dead. He had drowned trying to untie the ropes that had bound John to the weights and John was left staring into his unseeing grey eyes as he floated away motionless. John had startled awake that night, covered with sweat. He was so shaken that he had thrown on a hotel bathrobe over his pajamas, gone straight down the hall to Sherlock’s room and rang his mobile until the man awoke. John had wrapped his arms around him as soon as he opened the door with a startled ‘John, what is it?’

John has never explained the dreams to Sherlock and Sherlock has not asked. John will tell him at some point, but not now when it is still so fresh. Soon though.

As for tonight, it seems like it should be no different and yet, it is. Here, in their bed on the first night of their life together, John’s last thought before falling asleep is completely different and the dreams he has open a new world of wonder and excitement.

Sherlock was brilliant at finding clues. Ones I left and ones I didn’t even realize. He could be a detective in his free-time, as if we have any of that to spare.

John’s mouth turns up at the corners slightly and a sleepy snicker passes through his lips as he pulls Sherlock closer.

A consulting detective. Mm, I should tell...him...that.

El Fin

---

I said it all at the beginning, but I will again. Thank you all for being with me as I posted. Your love and support means the world to me. All of you are my friends on this journey. This story has a special place in my heart for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is meeting my lovely beta, MyBreadAndButter. Thank you, my friend. You have help me shape this story and my craft into something truly great. I look forward to working with you, and to seeing all of you again. I will never stop writing. It is a part of me as much as these two idiots are. I pledge to make them fall in love again and again with you all by my side. 😂 Until then... Keep you pants dry and your dreams wet and remember, hugs not drugs. We’ll all get through this together. Love, Jane

@zentris @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @tooolforthissh--stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedsstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow @one-thousand-splendid-stars @irina12maria

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #sherlock fanfic #sherlock au #sherlock roller derby #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #John loves Sherlock #Johnlock fanfic #johnlock au

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astralkoo · 6 years ago

Text

Beautifully Misfit 2

SERIES: Hybrid BTS

‣ Genre: fluff, smutt, hybrid au

‣ Word Count: 3k

‣ Pairing(s): skunk!Jimin x reader, puppy!Taehyung x reader, bunny!Jungkook x reader

‣ Warning(s): strong language, angst, bullying, fighting (not graphic), some mentions of abuse and neglect, talks of euthanasia

‣ to be aware of: sub!jimin, switch!taehyung, switch!jungkook, dom!reader, some kinky ass future happenings, BDSM themes, some heavy angst, and triggering themes.

Summary: you never really saw yourself as a hybrid person. that is, until your best friend introduces you to his hybrid, and you suddenly find yourself craving the companionship. you only intended to bring home one. somewhere between the lines you ended up with three beautifully misfit hybrids who craved nothing but your love.

part. i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi (coming soon)

A/N; I promise I’ll introduce Jiminie and Kookie next chapter, I just wanted to get all the introductory stuff out of the way early on without making the chapters too long! Also, thank you so much for the positive responses on Beautifully Misfit part 1! It means a lot, and I hope you enjoy part 2!

“Are you sure it’s enough?” You asked for the twenty thousandth time.

“Y/n,” Namjoon sighed, “you practically bought out the entire store, I’m pretty sure you’re set for the next twelve decades.”

“But what if there’s something I missed?”

“Trust me, you’re not missing any of the general necessities. You don’t even know what breed of hybrid you’re going to get and somehow you’re already over prepared.”

You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “I suppose, I might have gone a bit overboard?”

He laughed loudly, “what gave it away? The king sized bed you ordered or the five thousand dollars worth of miscellaneous items?”

Humming in thought, you meekly interlaced your fingers behind your back, swaying a bit in your step, “a bit of both?”

Shaking his head at your ridiculous antics, he let out a light hearted chuckle, pulling you into his side. “You are one of a kind, you know that?” You smiled brightly up at him, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“So I’ve been told.”

But the light aura surrounding you seemed to crack as you approached the building. A sudden bout of uncertainty and nervousness gripped at your heart and mind.

You were finally here. After weeks of preparing your home for your new addition, endless hours of researching, and having several mental breakdowns in the arms of your best friend, you had finally arrived at the hybrid shelter.

It was almost surreal.

And definitely terrifying.

The shelter itself had been difficult to find. Originally, you’d believed it was fine to just pop into any random hybrid shop, because there was pretty much one on every block. Hybrids were very common, especially in the area you were currently living in. One prominent change in society a few years back was the climb in hybrid normality.

They’d once symbolized wealth and high status, but as their population increased, their value dropped and therefore, they were within reach of the ordinary man and woman. Within a span of two years, they became normal to have in everyday households.

Back when you were in middle school, there was only one girl who’s family was wealthy enough to own a hybrid. And she made sure to rub it in everyone’s face every chance she got.

But now, one glance down a street and there were usually at least three within view.

Unfortunately, this sprout in population came with several prominent downsides.

It wasn’t rare to hear of underground hybrid fighting rings. Men and women used hybrids as a source of entertainment, their own twisted amusement. The death of a hybrid in those fighting rings was like some sick joke on the street.

It was also not unusual to hear of hybrids being used for… sexual activities. Whether it be the owner abusing their power over a hybrid and taking advantage of them, or a hybrid being sold by a new form of pimp for money and power. It was a messed up system.

There were organizations that countered these issues, fortunately. Organizations that were dedicated to saving and protecting hybrids, as well as finding safe forever homes for them. Like H4H, ‘Home for Hybrids,’ which was where Namjoon had adopted Jin from and where you were currently going to adopt your own.

It was one of the most well known Hybrid protection organizations in the nation, and one of the most well credited. Unlike many other hybrid ‘rescues’, H4H took good care of their residents, treated them fairly and without abuse, tending to each hybrids unique needs in the most effective way possible.

You may or may not have read that off their website home page.

But it seemed legit enough. Namjoon approved of it, and you trusted Namjoon. He was good at this kind of thing.

“What’s with that face?” He nudged you gently in the side, breaking you from your train of thought.

“Just a little nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you nodded confidently, eyes flickering over the exterior of the shelter. It was big. Really big. You wondered how many hybrids were inside. Probably hundreds. Maybe even thousands. Okay, that’s be an exaggeration, but possibly close to!

That thought alone sent another wave of unease over your restless mind.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Namjoon asked, concern obvious in his tone. He knew how you could be in these types of situations. You know, with decisions and all that. Especially life changing ones.

You quickly shook your head.

“No! No, I’m sure. I can do this by myself. I want to do this by myself,” you said, determination burning in your eyes. Your best friend smiled down at you adoringly, nodding in understanding.

“Alright. Good luck, Y/n,” He pecked your cheek, before turning to leave, only to pause at the feeling on your hand on his wrist. He looked back at you with furrowed brows, nearly melting into the damn floor at the look on your face.

This meant a lot to you. It really did. There weren’t a lot of important things in your life at the moment, but this was important. So important in fact that you’d spent the last few nights damn near tearing your hair out in a nauseating mixture of raw terror and unbridled excitement. Which was more overpowering was debatable.

“How… how will I know?”

He smiled reassuringly, flicking your forehead gently. “Trust this old dusty thing. You’ll just know. Don’t overthink it and don’t force it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come naturally.”

You swallowed. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got this.”

“Damn right you got this,” He egged you on, playfully shoving you towards the massive center, “now go before you chicken out and bury your regret in a gallon of ice cream.”

Whipping around you threatening raised a hand at him, but he just laughed loudly and scurried out of arms reach, waving encouragingly as he got into his car. “You’ll be fine! I believe in you!”

You only flipped him the bird, earning a few looks from passerby’s.

“That Kim Namjoom,” you grumbled under your breath in aggravation, in spite of the smile that touched your lips.

With renewed confidence, you squared your shoulders, raising your chin as you struck a quick power pose. “I’ve got this.”

Yeah… you don’t got this.

As soon as you entered the building, your mind went blank. The lobby resembled that of a five star hotel, wide and modern and absolutely gorgeous. There were at least fifteen other people, some working there, others on a similar mission as you.

“Hello.”

You let out a yelp of shock, whipping around to come face to face with an unfamiliar boy.

He was very handsome, with brightly shining eyes and the kind of smile that would normally have you swooning in seconds had it not been for your buzzing nerves.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked a little lost and overwhelmed. I’m going to assume that it’s your first time?”

You could only nod, cheeks warming faintly. Had you really looked that out of place?

The boy’s smile widened and he politely raised a hand for you to shake, “my names Jung Hoseok. I work here, as you can probably guess by the uniform and name tag. I’d be glad to help you out, if you’d like?”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, cringing as your voice cracked, “and yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Right this way, Y/n.” He took a step back, extending an arm to gesture at two large glass doors. Stifling any remaining unease, you allowed him to guide you through, immediately filling with curiosity. There was a hallway with three more doors, each with a large label across the top. The first read domestic, the second aquatic, the third exotic. “Any specific preference?” He asked, turning to you with another bright smile.

“Uh… domestic?”

“Good choice, I usually recommend exotic and aquatic hybrids for experienced owners. They can be a bit more of a handful and far more high maintenance, especially when it comes to their unique requirements. They can be quite pricy.” He explained with a playful click of his tongue that coaxed a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I don’t doubt that,” you couldn’t imagine the kind of home a person would need to own an aquatic hybrid, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but do you have a hybrid of your own?”

“I do, actually! A grumpy munchkin cat hybrid, his names Yoongi. I adopted him from this very place four years ago. He’s actually the reason I became passionate about hybrids,” he gushed fondly, clasping his hands in front of him. His eyes shined as he spoke, betraying just how dearly he loved this Yoongi.

“Was he your first?” You questioned.

He nodded. “My first and only!”

Immediately any restraint you had on your curiosity burst like an overstretches rubber band. “What was it like? How’d you know that he was the one you wanted? And what was it like bringing him home for the first time? Did it just click or did it take time? You said he was grumpy, has he ever bitten or scratched you? Shit, none of these hybrids bite, do they? I don’t tolerate pain very well so I don’t know just how well I’d be able to cope with being bit or scratched or—”

You began to ramble off question after question, his eyes going wide as he tried to process your words as quickly as they came shooting from your lips. But his shocked expression quickly turned to a gentle smile. At the feeling of his hand resting gently on your shoulder, you quickly snapped your mouth shut, face heating as you realized your mistake.

Leave it to you to have the biggest mouth of the century.

Hoseok was quick to cut off the apology that was seconds from being spit from your mouth with soothing words, “you’re nervous. That’s okay, I was, too.”

“Really? I’m not just loosing my mind over nothing?” Your lips turned upwards sheepishly as your shoulders rose.

A bright laugh bubbled on his lips at that, quickly shaking his head. “No, no, not at all. You’re bringing an entirely new living being into your home. Someone that you’ll be responsible for not only taking care of, but loving and protecting to the best of your ability. If you do that, then they will show you that same love and compassion in return. It’s an relationship of mutualism, give and you will receive. Trust and you will be trusted.”

Trust and you will be trusted.

You stared up at the boy beside you in awe, amazed by his wisdom. “Shit, you really do know your stuff, huh?”

He playfully popped his collar, giving a modest shrug. “I try.” You laughed loudly, him grinning happily at having been able to ease a bit of the tension that had been weighing down your shoulders. “Now come on, its time to find you your perfect new family.”

Family. That’s right. Family. You liked the sound of it.

Excitement overwhelmed the previously buzzing nerves that now lay dormant.

You hovered close behind him, fidgeting as he swiped his key card over a recognition device, a low beeping sound filling the hall before a notable click. With one last smile shot in your direction, he pulled open the door.

And you swear to god, you damn near dropped dead at the sight before you (in the ‘it’s so fluffy you could die’ kind way).

Hybrids–fucking–galore.

It was like a little pet paradise. Toys for every species and massive bean bags adorned freshly polished hardwood floors.

And the hyrbids. Dear god they were adorable.

“Wow,” you murmured, heart warming at the sight of two young cat hybrids playing happily with a unwinding ball of yarn. There was a group of puppy hybrids wrestling in the corner, playfully batting at one another and rolling across the floor. You smiled, giggling quietly until a sharp yell of pain split through the upbeat atmosphere.

“You bit him!” One cried in shock.

“I–I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, I swear!” A dark brown haired boy with large eyes spoke frantically. He tried to reach for the one that had yelped only to be harshly shoved away, a growl tearing from his throat.

“This is why no one likes to play with you! Because you’re just a stupid mutt.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You should be. I better not get any of your filthy diseases.”

“I don’t have any d–diseases!”

“Liar, you’re a disgusting, diseased mutt. Why do you think no one ever wants to keep you?”

“Shut up!” The brown haired boy shouted, delivering a rough shove to the over boy’s shoulders, sending him flying to the ground.

“Tae!” Hoseok was quickly leaving your side, running over to the two as they began to fight in a much less playful way than before. You could only watch with wide eyes as he intervened, pulling the two growling pups away from each other. “Both of you calm down before you get your snack time taken for the next week!”

That shut them up real quick.

Crossing him arms over his chest, he glanced back and forth between the hybrid, a hard but concern expression on his face. “Would either of you like to explain what just happened.”

“Taehyung bit me!” The first and much larger boy was quick to bark out. Haha. Bark out. Get it because they’re both dog hybrids? No, okay. Moving on,

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Taehyung cried out desperately, “I tried to say sorry but he pushed me and started saying really mean things!”

“Did not.”

“Did to!”

“Hey! Stop that right now! You’re both acting like immature puppies, you know that is not how we behave.” They snapped their jaws shut obediently, heads lowering as they were scolded.

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” Taehyung whimpered, tugging at his sleeve meekly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Tae. You need to apologize to each other.”

He looked far less thrilled about that, but spit out a soft ‘sorry’ to the other hybrid nonetheless.

The larger grunted stubbornly, turning away, chin held up pridefully. “Sehun, apologize to Taehyung. Now.” Hoseok voice was quiet but surprisingly firm. Sehun let out a low sound of frustration, eyes flicking back over to where they stood.

“Sorry.”

“Very good, thank you. But you both know the consequences of fighting.” The two canines quietly whined in protest. “Ah–ah… none of that. After lunch and dinner you’ll both be helping the staff clean up and wash dishes. Now back to your rooms for an hour, alright?”

Sehun shot one last sharp glare in Taehyung’s direction before stalking off, fluffy golden tail lowered. Taehyung bit his lip, worriedly looking up at Hoseok. “I’m real sorry, Hobi. Are you mad at me?”

Hoseok rested a hand between Taehyung’s dark ears, scratching reassuringly. “No, of course I’m not mad, Tae. I know it was an accident.” The dark haired hybrid whimpered happily in relief, nodding and scampering off. But for a brief moment, his eyes met yours. You could’ve sworn a blush touched his cheeks before he offered a welcoming wave and disappeared behind a set of doors.

“You handled that incredibly well,” you chimed.

Hoseok chuckled softly, “you learn how to handle situations like that after a few go arounds.”

“Who were they?”

“Sehun and Taehyung? Sehun is a German Shepard hybrid. He hasn’t been here for too long. But Tae…” he sighed softly, shaking his head, “he’s been in and out of this place since he was five.”

“Shit.”

“I know. He’s a good boy, he really is. He’s just been dealt a bad hand,” suddenly, he got this really sad look on his face, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, “listen. I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but…”

“But?” You urged, taking a step closer to him as his voice lowered.

“There was talk of him being put down if it doesn’t get adopted soon.”

Horror. Absolute horror.

“P–put down?” You repeated, praying that he would say you misheard. He nodded sadly, lips tightening. “That’s… that’s horrible. I didn’t realize this was a kill shelter.”

“It’s not meant to be. They’ve never put a single hybrid down before that I know of. But the higher ups are saying that his quality of life will just keep declining if he continues to be adopted and sent back. Things like that take their tole on hybrids mental health, which subsequently affects their physical health. Hybrids that suffer from mental illnesses are ten times more likely to become ill and far less likely to recover from something as seemingly simple as the common cold.”

“I never knew that.”

“Naturally, hybrids seek companionship. We all do to some extent, but hybrids with their animal counterparts actually need it. It’s not a matter of what looks good for the shelter. It’s a matter of whether this hybrid will be driven to extremes.”

“Extremes?”

“It’s possible that he may become feral.“

You felt yourself stiffen.

You’d done enough research to know what feral meant. His animal instincts would take over his mind, all human aspects ground into dust. He would become a danger to anyone around him. And would more likely than not end up being put down.

But you couldn’t picture the sweet boy with the big brown eyes becoming something so vicious and inhuman.

“That’s awful,” you muttered, more to yourself than to the worker beside you. He nodded in agreement nonetheless. Suddenly, you turned to him, eyes wide, “I would like to meet him.”

His own eyes enlarged hopefully, “really? You genuinely mean it? Because I don’t think he can take being let down again—”

“I mean it, Hoseok. I want to meet him.”

You could see how he was trying desperately to stifle his blossoming excitement.

“I’ll take you to his room!”

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