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biaswreckme · 4 years ago

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how to care for your hybrid | jjk

Pairing: hybrid!Jungkook/Reader

Member: Jungkook

Length: 5253 words

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, 5+1

Rating: 18+

Triggers/Warnings: smut, hybrid smut, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), insinuation of past abuse (but nothing explicit or even saying what happened), mention of abandonment

Project: @btscreatorscorner March workshop with the theme push the limits

Summary: how to care for your hybrid, or 5 times you cared for bunny hybrid!Jungkook and one time he took care of you

A/N: So this was supposed to be a drabble and it turned out to be a 5k fic. Alright. This was written for this month’s workshop for BTS Creators’ Corner network, and the theme was to push the limits. I had never written a hybrid fic before, so I interpret the theme as coming out of my writing comfort zone (even though it’s still smut...) Thankssss to my lobely lobely betas, @heejinnien for beta-reading the sfw parts of this fic, and to @taegularities for beta-reading the nsfw bit :3 I love you girls ♥

You can find the sequel here.

1. Provide them with a comfortable home

You still remembered the day you had brought Jungkook home from the shelter. You had gone with a friend, just as a companion, not intending nor really wanting to adopt a hybrid. Sure, you’d feel lonely sometimes, living by yourself and in a foreign country, but the thought of adopting a hybrid had never crossed your mind. Adopting a plant? Sure. Adopting a cat? Maybe. Adopting a hybrid? Never. Until you saw him, that is.

The shelter was legit, your friend had said, having done her research. But the place still made you uncomfortable; the creatures, those people, inside the divisions - you refuse to think of them as cages - waiting for someone to help. You had to bite your lip to keep from crying upon seeing them, knowing it was a rescue shelter, and then your eyes crossed with his.

There was some magnetic energy in the air that had pulled you closer to his unit until you could read the informational pamphlet: he was named Jungkook, a rescue bunny hybrid. Your gaze had immediately shifted to the man again; he was only a couple of years younger than you, but there had been something about his gaze that almost hypnotized you. He had such wide, expressive, and round eyes glistening with moisture and paired with his ears drooping low on the back of his head, you could not resist it.

There would be a home inspection and you would need to get some provisions to fulfill all the exigencies, but you rushed to get everything together. They had provided you with a list of items to make the bunny hybrid comfortable and ease the transition, and you did not hesitate, deciding to worry about the credit card bills later.

And so you took him home. He had clung to you entering the apartment, slowly exploring the space and showing where he would be sleeping. At the shelter, they had told you the hybrid would need an appropriate bed, but you hadn’t felt comfortable just getting a bunny bed at the store, so you got him a real and human bed, wanting him to feel at ease enough to not need to shift into a full bunny to sleep - they had also told you he tended to do that, sleeping as a bunny because he did not feel comfortable in his hybrid human-like body.

You had gotten the basics necessary for the approval of the adoption, and then you took him to the store, letting him choose his own things. It would be a while until that wide-eyed, surprised look would leave his expression, even when you were alone at the apartment and just hanging out on the couch on a Sunday night. That first night, giving him the blankets and tucking him in, you promised to take care of him, and you could barely hear his voice in reply, so small and shy, even though he was much taller - and more muscly - than you. It did not feel right that he had to make himself so quiet and small if that was even possible, so you swore to yourself that you would do everything to help him come out of his shell.

And soon you would find yourself in the company of a very loud and boisterous bunny, no shame about singing, his love for gaming until late hours, and working out. And you could not avoid falling in love with him.

2. Make sure they are getting appropriate food

It was a Friday night, you got home tired after a long day at work, and you smiled to yourself, biting your own lip upon the sight that greeted you upon entering the apartment. A shirtless Jungkook, towel haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, his torso glistening with sweat from working out in your living room. He lifted his head upon hearing you enter, a big smile lighting up his face and his long ears pointed up. He got up and made a movement to hug you.

“Hi, noona!”

“Oh no, you don’t,” you barely ducked out of the day. “Jungkook, you’re sweaty…”

He was faster than you, predicting where you were going to dodge his new attempt at enveloping you with his arms, something he had been picking up whenever you joined him in a boxing workout. His arms quickly went around your body, pressing you against him, your forearms up in the failed endeavor of avoiding getting his sweat all over you. He hugged you tight, his chin resting on your shoulder and you felt one of his ears on your head as his entire body seemed to tremble, and as you looked down you saw his tail wiggle from side to side rapidly.

“You’re finally home,” he sighed, swaying you softly from side to side.

“Is everything okay, bun? I’m sorry I’m late, they had me stay…”

“I’m so hungry,” you could almost see the pout, knowing the small lisp that came out whenever he pursed his lips and whined.

You looked around the living room, seeing the empty protein shaker bottle on the coffee table, narrowing your eyes.

“Didn’t you have your shake? You were working out.”

“Well, I did…” he started.

“We went grocery shopping and there are still some veggies and fruit cut up from our weekend meal prep, bun,” you felt him hiding his face even more on your shoulder, squeezing your body. “What’s going on? Am I forgetting something?” There was a slightly teasing tone in your voice, knowing what he wanted.

“You promised…” his voice was a mumble, muffled by the way his pouty lips were pressing on your body, but before you could ask him to repeat, “You promised pizza night, noona.”

“I know, bun, I haven’t forgotten it,” you stepped away from him, looking into his eyes and seeing his demeanor change completely.

“Oh?”

“I made the order when I was stuck at a red light. I got your favorite,” you were about to continue, but was interrupted by his sweaty hug again, this time accompanied by a chuckle.

“Ok, we have just enough time to shower before it arrives, so let’s run and get ready.”

You were right and there was just enough time to quickly wash the day - and Jungkook’s sweat - away. You set up the coffee table while he went to get the pizza, knowing it would be hot and he would almost drop it entering the apartment as usual. You sat side by side on the floor in front of the small table, turning the television on to the show you have been binging, your backs propped up against the sofa.

Jungkook was usually very strict with his diet, being mindful of the food he ingested to maintain his physique and try to lower his body fat percentage - which was crazy to you, his muscles were already prominent and he seemed to get only bigger… how were you supposed to leave the house to work when you had your bun looking like that, especially early mornings, his hooded half-open eyes almost smiling at you wishing you a good day at work. Your fridge was always full of fresh and cut-up vegetables, fruit, and greens, catering to his diet (and you had to admit you have been eating much better since he entered your life). Sometimes you thought it was all his difficulties from before, his time spent in the shelter, that he had such a love for a cheesy hot pizza every once in a while during the weekend.

And how could you say no to him when he purposefully lowered his ears, pouted, and widened his big round eyes even more to convince you?

3. Explore new things together

“Come on baby, you said you wanted to try this. It’s just us now.”

“Y… yes, noona. It’s just so… big.” Jungkook’s eyes were wide open, looking at the size of the pool in the club. For as much of a muscle bunny he was, the sheer magnitude of the pool seemed to scare him.

He first brought up the idea when you were watching tv a few days ago, some random program late at night showing people on a beach, and Jungkook had seemed to be fixated on the screen. He wanted to visit the sea, for he had never been there before. You agreed to it, but you had to admit that you were scared too, so you compromised: you would start your water adventures at a pool, so he could test things out, see if he truly enjoyed being in the water and swimming.

A few calls later there you were, standing by the water. You picked a time when they said people weren’t usually in - it even involved getting a day off work so you could go this early, but you would do everything for Jungkook. You looked at him, observant, watching his reactions carefully. His ears were down the back of his head, his hands clenched together in front of his shirtless torso, his front teeth worrying into his bottom lip. You took one of his hands into yours and started taking him in the direction of the small ladder to enter the pool. For a moment you wanted to jump in, but you didn’t want to make him even more nervous.

“It’s okay, bun, we’re going into the shallower part so most of your body will be above the water, ok?”

He nodded, but still seemed hesitant to get in, waiting for you to do it first. You stepped down the small ladder, showing him that almost half of your body was above the water, that he would be safe and didn’t need to worry about this part. The water was on the warmer side; you thought going for the hot pool was the best idea to help him feel comfortable at first. He stepped in feet by feet, slowly, his nose scrunched, but the moment he felt the warmth on his feet it was like magic: his ears shot up and his eyes widened in surprise, his mouth coming into a small circle.

You smiled encouragingly and stepped back, giving him some space, seeing him put one of his feet to the bottom and then the other, grounding himself. He was taller than you and he noticed the difference in the level of the water surrounding you. You lowered your body, telling him you were doing it first so as not to frighten him and submerged yourself to get your hair wet. When you emerged, you saw his eyes were wide again, but his ears were not down as before. There was a glint of curiosity in his expression and you nodded in encouragement for him to try it out.

“It’s just like when you wet your hair in the tube, bun. Here, hold on to my hands and remember to hold your breath.”

He did so, holding them tightly in his fists as he bent his knees and lowered his body. You chuckled slightly when you saw that half of his ears were still out of the water, so you quickly untangled one of your hands from his and lightly pressed on them so they were submerged too. He got up and shook his head, water droplets flying everywhere. He started laughing when he saw you put your hands in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Good?”

“Yes, noona, it’s good.”

“Are you ready to go a bit deeper?” His long ears perked up at your question, but his face seemed apprehensive. “Not much, we’re not swimming today, just going a bit more so you can maybe try floating.” His head moved up and down, agreeing to the idea, and you couldn’t help but think it was so cute the way his ears moved too.

You grabbed both his hands again so you were looking at each other as you slowly started to step back further into the deeper part of the pool. You didn’t rush, letting him adjust to the increasing level of the water, and only moved when he seemed comfortable. Jungkook always loved to have baths, so you figured he would love going to the pool too, especially a hot one. His smile got wider with each step, feeling more confident and safe with you. When the water hit your shoulders, you stopped and let his hands go.

“Bun, let’s try floating, ok? We’re starting small today, so you can just come closer and put your arms around my shoulders.” You said as you turned your back to him, and almost immediately you felt his arms around you. “Good! Now try letting your feet rise from the floor, let your body float a little.”

He tentatively lifted his feet, clinging to you harder as his body moved with the slow slushing of the water.

“I’ve got you, Kook,” you said as you pressed your hands to his. “I’m not letting go. Trust me, bun. Kick your feet back and put your weight on me.”

You felt him kick the water behind you, his strong arms flexing as he let his weight fall onto you. You knew the moment he started to float and enjoyed it; he pressed his face against your neck and started giggling, and when you looked at him, his nose was scrunched with happiness. His long ears were slightly facing backward, his eyes half-closed, and his little tail wiggling. You walked around the same area of the pool while he kicked his feet behind him, laughing freely as he enjoyed himself. As soon as you taught him to swim you would be taking a small holiday on the beach; you wanted to see this joy in him forever.

This moment was worth everything.

4. Make sure they are getting enough attention

“Morning, noona.”

You heard his voice, so gentle and still thick from sleep, waking up to the sound and the small kisses, his lips softly pressing against the back of your neck, his nose smelling your hair, his warm chest pressed against your back. You made an attempt to move your body but he tightened his arms around you.

“No moving yet, noona.”

“Morning, bun. What are you doing?”

“Just making sure you’re not going to leave my arms today,” he started, and you noticed his voice was heavy with emotion.

“Bun?”

He stayed quiet, hiding his face on your shoulder blades, and you did not say anything else until you felt it, until you felt them. There were small droplets of tears falling on your skin, and you turned around quickly to look at him fighting his embrace. Your hands immediately went to his face, wiping his cheeks, seeing him close his eyes and just quietly crying. Whenever he got like this, he would usually be quieter, needing to talk in his own time, so you did not ask him anything else, giving him space to let his feelings out. All you did was press your forehead against his and wipe his tears with your thumbs, and when you saw he would not stop so soon, you hugged him, letting your shirt dampen without caring about it. The moment you cradled his head against your chest, sobs started to wreck his body, making him shake and you could feel tears gathering in your own eyes. You had no idea how long you were like that, slowly caressing his hair, minding his long ears, but all that mattered was Jungkook. Slowly you felt his body starting to shake less, his hard sobs turning into small hiccups as he almost clawed at your back, needing to be closer to you.

“You’re… you’re not leaving me, right, noona?” His voice was quiet, but his question was too loud in the silence of the bedroom on a Saturday morning.

“Jungkook… no, love, I’m not leaving you,” your heart started to crackle with this question, and you pressed him against you even more. “Why, why do you think that, bun?”

He sniffled, pressing his nose against you and inhaling deeply, then said, his tone still small, “I’m feeling lonely… this past week…”

“Oh, Kook…” it seemed impossible, but you held him even closer to you, “I’ve been just too busy and exhausted from work, I know I got here yesterday and you were already in bed… I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

He sniffled again and you felt a new wave of fresh tears wetting your clothes.

“I thought…” he started, but his voice faltered. “I thought I made you mad. I thought you were angry at me… and that…” there was a small sob that shook his entire body, “I was scared, noona, I was scared you were going to take me back.”

You could not stop your own tears from falling on top of his head; you had no idea he had felt that way. You had tried texting him during the day whenever you could have a moment for yourself at work throughout this insane week, but again and again, they demanded more hours from you and you did not have the chance to say no. Jungkook was still finding his freedom and footing in the world, and it had worried you that you had to leave him to spend more time by himself than usual. But you never expected this reaction, and you made up your mind. They could ask someone else at work, why did it always have to be you?

“No, Kook… Listen, bun,” your voice trembled, so you paused to be more stable when talking to him. “I’m so sorry you were alone this week, this is not going to happen again, I promise. And the day you came home with me I made a promise, remember? I’m never taking you back unless you want to go.”

He shook his head quickly, signaling his opposition to the idea.

“I don’t want you to go either, bun. I love you, and I’m sorry again.”

He finally looked at you, murmuring I love you too, a small smile gracing his lips. Your chest was starting to feel lighter, starting to relax after being so worried at his crying. You had never seen him like this, and you never wanted to see it again.

“What do you need from me, bun?” you said and kissed his forehead, letting your lips linger for a brief second.

“Can we just… stay in bed today? I want to stay like this in your arms, I missed you too much, noona.”

“Whatever you want, love, I’m yours.”

“I never want to leave this bed,” he whined, burrowing closer to you, and you noticed that even though his face was swollen from the tears and his voice was hoarse, his ears were more relaxed than they were before; they were tense in a way that was new to you.

“What about food? And I’m sorry, you’re not using this bed as a toilet, ok?” you tried to lighten the mood and it worked, the sound of his delightful chuckle filling the room, and you laughed along. But you understood and agreed. You never wanted to leave this bed. And at least for the day, you would only leave when necessary, needing to feel him in your embrace and carefully observe as he truly started to believe in you, leaving his worries in the past.

5. Love them unconditionally

The first time it happened was purely accidental. You were cuddling on the sofa, watching television, your hand caressing his hair when you felt his entire body tremble with such force that you stopped and looked at him, your hands away from him.

“Jungkook, bun, what… did I hurt you?”

You were worried; his arms were crossed in front of his body and his hands clasped together tightly on his lap. His doe-like eyes were more expressive than ever, open wide, his long ears were down, and he seemed to still be shivering. What had you done? You noticed there was a pink hue starting to tint his cheeks and neck and when you kept staring at him, you saw that he tried to make himself smaller. You felt tears start to gather in the corners of your eyes, fearful that you had done something to remind him of his life before, as he usually referred to the time that preceded the shelter.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I’m so sorry, just tell me what I did so I don’t do it again.”

“You didn’t…” he started, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. He cleared his throat and continued, his eyes wandering around the living room, “you… I…”

You nodded, trying to encourage him to speak, needing to know what went wrong.

“Noona… my ears… my bunny ears, they’re, hm, too sensitive,” he said, blushing harder, and he shuddered.

Oh.

Oh. Your gaze shifted downwards, and you could see his hands were trying to conceal his erection. You licked your lips unconsciously, and his eyes seemed to get even bigger.

“Bad sensitive or good sensitive?”

He looked down at your question, clenching his hands and pressing them on his crotch, but said “Good sensitive, I think?”

You scooted a little closer to him on the couch but still did not touch him. “Talk to me, bun,” you said softly, feeling that the subject was delicate, but you wanted to know whether or not to bring it up again, whether or not you could touch him like that.

“Noona… no one ever touched them like this before, like you,” he seemed hesitant, but continued nonetheless, “you don’t hurt me. You like it, you like me, right?”

You did not think twice before enveloping him into a hug, pressing him tight against you, overwhelmed with emotions at his question.

“I love you, Jungkook. Every part of you.” You had a feeling that this was what he needed to hear. It was not often that you saw him being insecure anymore, and it tugged on your heart uncomfortably. “You don’t ever have to feel bad with me, ok? I love you,” you repeated, emphasizing, trying to comfort him.

“I love you too, Y/n,” his voice continued soft, but he looked a tiny percentage more confident. “I think… at some point… maybe…” he looked at you, and you nodded again for him to continue. “I think I might want you to touch them when we’re, you know,” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down, chuckling, and there he was, getting back to you.

You laughed with him. It was unusual seeing him this shy in talking about sex, as he was definitely not shy at all performing it or even talking about it most of the time, but you understood this was a different issue.

“Only if it will make you feel good, bun, you know I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable,” you took his hand and held it, caressing the back of it with your thumb, and he nodded.

The next time it happened was not accidental at all, and it caught you by surprise.

You were already in bed, whispering sweet nothings as sleep didn’t reach you. The kiss started innocent enough, his lips pressing softly against yours while his hands stopped at your lower back, pulling you towards his body. His tongue caressed your lower lip and you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body closer to his. His leg nudged its way between yours, and shortly after he rolled over you, his underwear not able to conceal his erection and you felt it directly where you needed it as he grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist.

His kisses moved down to your neck, nipping and sucking, his hips subtly moving, stimulating you. You grabbed his hair as he descended, lifting your tank top, softly sucking on your nipples as his hands started to lower your panties. He wasted no time, licking your slit from bottom to top, pausing to circle your clit before putting his lips around it and sucking rhythmically as one of his fingers teased your opening, slowly moving in and out. It wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm building that your hands grabbed his hair, pulling him up and towards you.

“I want you in me,” you whispered against his lips, tasting yourself, you needed to feel him.

He nodded and quickly removed his underwear, throwing it haphazardly behind him. He moved back between your legs, lowering his body on top of yours as you crossed your legs on his waist, helping the angle. His cock started to press into you and you felt the delicious stretch, inch by inch. His thickness filled you perfectly; you could almost feel the veiny lines that adorned the underside of his cock pressed on your walls, and whenever his hips made those small sharp trusts, the upwards curve of his erection put some pressure just right where your sweet spot was.

It was sweet and slow, your mouths connected in a seemingly never-ending kiss, his hips moving without rush, the pleasure building unhurriedly and constantly, his weight on top of you heightening the feelings. You started canting your hips with his, your languid movements following his rhythm, and his hand reached to yours, intertwined your fingers. He broke the kiss, looking into your eyes as he directed your hand to his hair. You immediately entangled your fingers on his dark strands, tugging on it and he moaned, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again and stopping the movements of his hips. Before you could ask what happened, he pushed your fingers from his hair, shaking his head softly and smiling. Still staring, he lowered his head and made your fingertips graze against one of his long ears, almost a ghost-like touch. You opened your mouth in surprise and let out a loud moan at the same time, as your first touch on that sensitive part of his made him snap his hips hard once against yours.

A shiver perpassed his body, probably due to the intensity of the touch, but he looked at you and nodded, and so you did not hesitate. Your other hand went to his head too, so you could gently caress his bunny ears; he trembled again but started moving his hips, this time with more urgency and small whines came out of his mouth in between kisses on your neck. One of his hands sneaked between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit, pressing on it, needing you to get closer, the intensity of his orgasm starting to overwhelm him. You were already close, so close to it, but you wanted him to reach his peak with you.

“Can I…” you pause to moan, feeling the edge approaching, “can I touch your tail too?”

He seemed so lost in the moment that you had to repeat the question, the need clear in your voice, and upon hearing it again, he did not hesitate in moaning out an affirmation, curious to see what it would feel like. You waited until you were at the brink of the precipice, your right hand going down his body, his back. And just as a sharp snap of hips hit you just right, snapping the coil of your orgasm, your fingers reached the fluffy tail. Feeling your touch, Jungkook let out a loud shout and stopped his hips, his cock deep inside you as you felt him pulse and his entire body trembled. He fell on top of you as aftershocks still ran through his figure, little high-pitched moans leaving his lips. You were not sure how long you were like that, legs entangled, your fingers caressing his back soothingly as your own body calmed down from the intense orgasm.

“Jungkook?”

“I’m…” he moaned out, “good. We’re doing this again as soon as I have control over my body, okay?”

You chuckled and he moaned for you to stop, the tiniest of movements overwhelming his senses. The next time you giggled at a comment he made, he turned you over, pushing your upper body into the bed and hoisting your hips up, and you certainly did not laugh anymore that night.

+1: Expect to be surprised by them

You heard the commotion outside on the street and you ran out of the apartment to the front door of the small building to see what it was about, and you opened it just in time to see Jungkook stepping out of the cause of the noise.

“Bun, what’s all this?”

“Oh hi noona! Surprise!”

It was indeed a surprise. This morning you had woken up and could not find Jungkook anywhere so you assumed he had gone for a run, but apparently not. There he was standing and waving at you in front of a camper van, a huge smile on his face, his long ears perked up. You could see your neighbors, Taehyung and his cat hybrid Jimin next to him, a sheepish expression on Taehyung’s face and a smile as big as Jungkook’s on Jimin’s lips.

“We’re going camping, noona!” Jungkook said as he approached you, enveloping you into his arms. “You’ve been so tired from work and now that you have a break, I thought we could go camping and have some fun…”

“Right now?” You asked, a little overwhelmed, but starting to get excited about the idea.

“Yes! Taehyung-hyung called up this place and rented the van, we got groceries, and Jimin even helped me pick a new coat for you, noona, I know you needed one.”

You felt your eyes tear up. You were so used to taking care of Jungkook and putting him in the first place that it was strange having someone take care of you like this. But this was Jungkook, you should have expected that. The day you brought him home from the shelter, he had said he would take care of you just as much as you would take care of him. You kissed him softly, pressing him against your body, and you whispered a thank you low in his ear.

“I love you, noona. Now let’s get your things ready, we have to get going, or else Tae-hyung said he is going to play all his old records in this player he brought the entire trip,” he stated wide-eyed and clearly hinting that he definitely did not want that.

You chuckled, knowing how picky Jungkook was with everything - his food, his clothes, his music. You took his hand and pulled him into the house, waving to the other boys at the front, signaling you would be out in a minute. You quickly packed a bag with Jungkook’s help and you waited as he got his camera and equipment bag, not forgetting the aux cord, set on not letting the other boys have control over the music.

What you would find only later on that evening is that for the first night, Taehyung and Jimin would set their tent a little far from the camp, giving you two some space for the date Jungkook had planned. A bottle of your favorite wine, Jungkook cooking a simple dinner by the fire camp, the bun’s eyes shining brightly as he scrunched his nose, and his small tail wagging slowly to the rhythm of a Frank Sinatra record under the moonlight.

Hope you enjoyed it and if you want to read more, how about finding out about the first time bun!Jungkook went to the beach?

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tomurasprincess · 4 years ago

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Kinktober Day 22: Zombie (Voracious)

Day 22: Zombie Title: Voracious Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Noncon, necrophilia (cause zombie), predator/prey, biting, marking, blood play, yandere Note: Thank you so much to @thewheezingwyvern who is always down to help me without batting an eye when I go “so, zombie plague...what are some good symptoms? And yes, the zombie is going to fuck you.” Also, for the love of everything that is unholy, please mind the warnings. Do not read the fic and come to me to tell me how disgusting it was. Trust me, I know. :)

Kinktober Masterlist

The country of Japan is dead. Or at least close enough that the distinction doesn’t matter.

Several months ago, an aggressive virus leaked from a quirk research facility and spread through the population like wildfire. Nobody was informed about what was going on, and nobody was warned when the virus first began to hit the cities. Officials kept it as quiet as possible, hoping to contain the spread before it got out of control. And before anyone knew how big of a mistake they had made.

But it was far too late for any sort of containment. The virus already spread fast in a lab environment, and it was even faster as it tore through an unprepared population.

The first sign of contracting the virus is tiredness and body aches. The infected simply thought they caught a minor illness, and they continued their business as usual, expecting it to go away on its own. But as the virus continues to spread through their body, the tissues start to die and they develop intense fevers and headaches. By the time the infection makes its way to the brain, confusion and outright delirium has begun to occur.

The infected are wild by this point, feral to the point of attacking, biting, and eating the uninfected. The ones who were bitten and survived had the site of their wound swell and turn agonizing to the touch, and they would suffer the same progression as the other infected.

The final stage is always the same though. Once the black rot of plague starts appearing on your skin and spreading like the branches of a tree, it’s too late.

The worst part is that the infected still have use of their quirks, and the devastation has been immense. Super powered heroes and villains with their minds rotting and decaying from infection, losing the ability to distinguish friend from foe. In some areas, the casualties were even worse from fighting than they were from the virus itself.

Somehow, you have managed to keep yourself alive and stay away from the worst in-fighting and the areas with the highest concentration of infected. Still though, it is a surprise to you. You’re simply a quirkless nobody with no way to defend yourself.

You have seen so many better, stronger people die right in front of you, leaving you forced to continue on alone.

You sigh as you scavenge through an old building that was once a store, looking for more supplies. Yours are dangerously low, and your dry mouth and grumbling stomach tells you that you need to find something quickly, before you become too weak to continue on.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear the banging of items hitting the ground from deeper within the store. It might be survivors, or it might be the infected. The thought briefly occurs to you that you need to check to make sure, but you quickly shake it away.

Survivors or not, you didn’t come this far by being careless. But as you inch quietly towards the exit, you see a flash of red eyes from within the darkness as something emerges.

No, not something. Someone.

One of the infected.

It’s clear that he’s in the late stages of infection, the black rot spreading out through his body, but most notably his left leg which he drags limply. He’s wearing what are essentially black rags that flow out from behind him, leaving his chest bare so that you can see more of the black spiderwebs of rot twining outwards.

His eyes zoom in on you, narrowing slightly as you stand there frozen in fear. Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, but is really mere seconds. You break out of your trance first, turning on your heel and running for the door. The infected pursues you instantly, jumping over a table rather than running around it to save time. The move is a sign of intelligence that instantly fills you with dread. By this stage, the infected are usually too confused and delirious to remember such things.

You make it to the door with him hot on your heels. You’ve always considered yourself a fast runner, especially lately, but this is an entirely different story. He’s fast, too fast. The infected are not supposed to be like this, especially not with a bad leg. But yet he is quickly catching up to you as you dart through streets you know so well.

You realize that your only chance is to lose him somehow, as you’re never going to be able to outrun him. Your breath is coming in harsh pants already, a stitch burning in your side as you make a sharp, desperate right turn into an alleyway.

An alleyway with a dead end.

This area was clear just a week ago, but now it looks like an infected hero or villain used their quirk to collapse both buildings in the area, causing massive chunks of cement and debris to block the road out. There is no way to climb over the rubble and no handholds or stairs to use to climb up the buildings. You’re completely trapped.

You whirl around quickly, hoping to get out before the infected catches up with you. But you’re too late. He’s already standing at the entrance of the alley, staring you down with heated red eyes. A sharp burst of awareness fills you as you realize exactly who this is. The leader of the League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura, whose whereabouts have been speculated on for weeks along with the rest of his villain group.

No wonder he’s so fast and so dangerous. The infected retain some level of awareness and ability from the time before, and Shigaraki was one of the most deadly villains in the country.

And if the way he’s acting towards you is any indication, he still is.

You take a step back. He takes a step forward. Another step back. Another step forward. You scan through your chances of getting out of this alive and uninfected, but your mind comes up with nothing.

Your back hits a wall abruptly, and in your split second distraction, the infected is on you. You’re pulled roughly to the ground, hands barely breaking your fall as you land on your front. This is it, you think to yourself, I’m about to be eaten. All this time of running away, of watching people you care about die, all for nothing.

You can’t stop yourself from trembling as you try to brace for the pain of being devoured. But instead, he leans down and buries his face into your neck, sniffing the skin deeply as he pushes your body further onto the ground. His hips are bucking against the curve of your ass, and with dawning horror, you realize exactly what the hard bulge in his pants is.

He grabs your pants and you watch as decay overtakes them and dissolves them into ash. He decays your shirt and bra next, leaving you bare from the waist up and shivering from the cold of his body pressed against you. You’re too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But when he reaches for your panties, that’s when your paralysis finally breaks and fear takes over. You try to lift yourself up from the ground to run, only to hear a snarl as teeth sink into the flesh of your neck.

You go limp with a choked sob, losing any and all desire to try and get away. It’s all over now. That one single moment has doomed you to infection and madness. The pain of the bite is nothing compared to the despair you feel.

He lets out a pleased hum at your sudden obedience, pulling your panties aside as you feel something cold and hard prodding at your entrance. You barely have time to comprehend what’s happening before your pussy is filled with one sharp thrust of the creature’s hips. The infected aren’t supposed to do this, aren’t supposed to have these urges, you think wildly to yourself. This can’t be happening, it’s not possible.. But it is happening. You’re being taken by this creature like a wild animal in a back alley.

And then he is moving, hips slapping against your ass as his throbbing length pounds into you. There is no gentleness, no precision, just deep, feral thrusts that have you unwillingly clenching. He’s thicker than you’re used to, and the pain of your muscles stretching around him causes you to whine from the back of your throat.

This shouldn’t feel good. You should be horrified, disgusted. You should be fighting tooth and nail to get away, even though it’s hopeless since you’re already infected. But the cold of his cock pressing against your warm walls has your head spinning from the contrast.

He hits a soft, spongy spot inside of you, and you let out a squeal as your stomach tightens. The teeth are removed from your neck, only to bite down in another spot on the other side. He ruthlessly breaks skin, causing blood to run down your front and drip onto the pavement below.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, everything so overly sensitive as his cock forces your walls to stretch open even further as he gets rougher. The hands gripping your hips feel warmer than they were before, fingers digging hard enough into your skin to create bruises. The grunts and groans leaving his throat are positively lewd, and he takes his mouth away only to bite down in between your shoulder blades.

Your scream echoes through the alley as the teeth penetrate flesh, his tongue lapping at the bite and taking deep swallows of your blood. You try to imagine yourself somewhere else, anywhere else so that you don’t think of the pressure building up inside of you and the pain from the throbbing bites now decorating you.

Your nails dig hard into the cement below you as you try to ground yourself and ignore what’s happening, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to appreciate that at all. He smacks his hand hard against your ass, keeping his pinky raised delicately off your skin in a way that has you worried about his level of awareness.

Now that your attention is firmly back on him, he bites the back of your neck, and you can’t stop the howl that leaves your throat when you feel your skin break, or the orgasm that wracks your body as you feel blood trail down the column of your neck and down in between your breasts.

Tears run down your face as humiliation burns through you, the shame of cumming around this infected villain’s cock almost too much to bear. Almost worse than the fact that you’ll soon be just like him.

“M-m-m - “

Your eyes widen as you glance behind you, seeing the infected concentrating hard as he tries to get words out. He’s stopped thrusting, as if he’s trying to focus entirely on whatever he wants to say. As he opens his mouth, you see his teeth stained with your blood and the sight shoots straight to your core.

“M-m-mine,” he finally manages to stutter out, “mine.” He forces your head down onto the pavement as he begins to ruthlessly pound into you. The infected don’t speak, they’re not supposed to speak -

“Mine,” he snarls, almost as if he heard your thoughts and is trying to prove you wrong.

You’re oversensitive and wet from your previous orgasm, allowing him to fuck you deeply, hitting your cervix with every thrust. You can feel your pussy dripping your juices all over his cock, and the wet squelching noises that fill the alleyway has you shaking with embarrassment.

“Mine, mine mine,” he chants as he bites again and again, each time pausing long enough to take gulps of your blood. Your head is spinning, lightheadedness from blood loss overtaking you. The ground below you has puddles of your own blood where it drips down, and you briefly think that maybe you really will be eaten right here and now instead of being infected and left to wander.

His hand comes in between your bodies to stroke tight circles against your swollen clit as he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Mine,” he whispers darkly. “Why else would I stumble across the cure for the plague if you weren’t meant to be mine?”

Cure for the plague? That’s not possible, there’s no cure for the plague, and you’re completely quirkless -

He bites down one last time, sinking his teeth into the back of your neck and holding you there like a dog refusing to let go of a bone. You realize why immediately when he groans into your heated skin, warmth spreading through your core as he shoots hot ropes of cum directly against your cervix. The pain of his teeth buried into your flesh has you thrown over the edge as well, legs trembling and eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He removes his teeth from your neck once he’s emptied himself inside of you, letting you go as you collapse onto the ground. You roll over enough to meet his eyes, seeing sharp intelligence and contemplation. The black rot is quickly disappearing, color returning to his skin. Within no time at all, you can no longer tell he was ever infected.

“How - I don’t - I’m quirkless - “

“No, you’re not.” He states it matter of factly, as if it was already known. “You have a quirk, it just didn’t have a purpose until the plague. Your blood carries the cure.”

You consider everything that happened, realizing that the more blood he drank, the more human he seemed. The faster the infection was being cured. He snorts at the look of disbelief and then understanding on your face. “With you on my side, I can remake society exactly the way that I want.”

“I am not on your fucking side! You’re a villain who just - “ You can’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence, but Shigaraki has no issues doing it for you.

“A villain who just fucked you and got you off? Such a dirty girl, getting off around infected cock.”

Your face heats up and you instantly glance away, drawing another chuckle from his throat. “I won’t help you,” you say stubbornly, ignoring his previous words.

“Who said I was giving you a choice?” His fingers dig into your arm as he pulls you off the ground. “You belong to me now, and I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you. Just think about the power I have now. I control who stays infected and who gets cured. No more hero society.” His voice has taken on an excited, almost manic tone as he considers the possibilities.

“Are you - are you going to let them do what you just did?” You whisper quietly, a single tear running down your face at being used the same way by other people.

He instantly scowls at you. “Of course not.”

You perk up just a bit, until you hear his next words.

“I’ll let you be a blood bag, but for everything else - you’re mine. And I don’t like to share.” He begins to drag you back the way that you came, walking with purpose.

“Now come along. We have so much work to do.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @ichor-and-symbiosis, @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @dee-madwriter, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main

#kinktober 2020 #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki #mha x reader #mha smut #yandere mha #bnha x reader #bnha smut #yandere bnha #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober #tw: noncon #tw: necro #tw: blood play

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carrotmakar · 4 years ago

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Not Going Anywhere Without You

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: When Y/N finds out that she’s expecting, she’s scared out of her mind. She doesn’t know how she’s going to get through it all. She doesn’t know if Harry even wants to be a father. Fortunately, Harry’s more than ready to take a step back from the stage for a while to start the family that he’s longed for his entire life.

Warning(s): unplanned pregnancy, nerves, pet names, a brief argument (idek if you could call it an argument tbh), fluffiness, dad!harry

A/N: this is one of the pieces that have been on my mind since i saw the dadathon that @tbslenthusiast is hosting!! Everyone should go read the masterlist of submissions and join if you want to!! Also a warm thank you to @taintedwonder and @sunflowers-styles for beta reading/getting me through writing the whole thing!!! and @havethetimeofyourstyles for listening to me tell her about how i cried writing/editing this (ily jill) !!!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | Request - Guidelines | Come Talk!

Reblogs help a lot and are greatly appreciated!!

There’s absolutely no way that this can be happening.

She stares down at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test and has to hold back the sobs that are threatening to overtake her. How could this be happening? No. This simply just cannot be happening to her.

Except it is. She’s pregnant. She’s carrying the child that she and Harry have created together. The truly awful part though? She doesn’t even know how to feel about it.

Of course, she’s excited. She’s happy. All she has ever wanted is a family with the man that she loves, but she's also nervous. She has no idea how he’s going to react to this. She doesn’t know how any of this is going to work. He’s in the middle of a world tour and she doesn’t even know if he’ll be done by the time she’s due.

Hell, she doesn’t even know when she’s due. She doesn’t know how far along she is and the amount of unknown facts threaten to send her spiraling.

What if he’s mad? What if he doesn’t want the baby? What if she has to do this alone? She doesn’t think she can be a single mother.

There are so many unknowns and there’s no way that she can do this on her own. For the time being, however, she knows she has to figure this out herself. She’s in their house in London while he’s in the States performing to thousands of screaming fans every night. There’s no way that she can drop this news on him in the middle of that chaos.

No, she reminds herself instead that he’ll be home in less than a month and she can tell him then. It’s better to do these things in person anyway.

Fortunately, that also means that she has a few weeks to calm the nerves that are coursing through her entire body. She also has that time to figure out how she’s going to break the news to him. She can’t just come out and say “Oh by the way, hey, I’m pregnant.” Can she?

“I’m pregnant.” The moment the words tumble out of her mouth she hears the excited squeal coming from her mother.

She needed to tell someone about the news, and since Harry wasn’t an option yet, her mother had automatically been her first choice.

“Baby, I’m so happy for you!” She shrieks through the phone and Y/N can see how excited she is even though the FaceTime quality isn’t great. The image of her mother all but jumping up and down from excitement brings a beaming smile to her face. “Does H know yet?”

That question causes Y/N’s smile to falter and her mom immediately catches it. “Why doesn’t he know?”

“Well he’s not here and I didn’t want to tell him on the phone, and I don’t know, really. I just found out the other day and I guess I’m just a little scared.” She’s trying her best to not tear up, and the newfound hormones are not helping the cause, but the lump in her throat is letting her know that she’s not succeeding.

“Why are you scared?” Her mother questions softly, trying to get Y/N to open up about what’s bothering her without pushing too much.

“I’m not sure… just scared he isn’t going to be happy with me.” She’s surprised when her mother audibly scoffs at her words.

“Y/N, sweetheart. If you really think that he’s not going to drop to his knees the moment that you tell him you’re carrying his child, you’re delusional.” She lets out a light chuckle before continuing. “He’s so head over heels in love with you that there’s absolutely no way that he could ever be upset over something like that.”

“Yeah but what if he’s not ready? He said he had wanted to wait a bit.” The tears that she’s trying so desperately to suppress are beginning to pool in her eyes and she wants to kick herself for letting this get to her again.

“Honey, H is the only person I know that is completely, without a doubt, ready to have children.” The first tear rolls down Y/N’s cheek as she observes the way that her mother’s face softens at the mention of Harry being ready to start his family. “Y/N, the moment that you break the news to him, his entire life is going to get a million times better.”

She nods and knows in her heart that she has nothing to worry about. She continues to converse with her mom for a little while longer, moving on from the topic of the pregnancy and Harry. Her mother’s words had calmed her nerves considerably.

After the phone call ends she decides to text Harry; it feels like they haven’t been talking as much recently, and she feels bad, knowing that her nerves have partially been the reason for that.

Hey babe, how’s everything going? Where are you this evening?

His reply comes in an instant, almost as if he had been waiting for her text.

St. Paul :) it’s been pretty great here! The show was great last night! Haven’t really done much lately though, it’s just been hotel room after hotel room and show after show.

The thought of him sitting in his hotel rooms alone, more than likely nursing a drink to calm his post concert adrenaline, makes a frown appear on her face. She knows how he gets when he’s away on tour and has to watch everyone around him pair off and go out to enjoy the city that they’re stopped in. He hasn’t been up for going out as much recently and, despite her efforts, she doesn’t know why. He’s usually always up for going out to let the adrenaline run its course, but every time they’ve talked lately, he’s just been shut away up in his room.

Why don’t you go out and enjoy the city with the band, sweetheart?

Feels wrong to go out without you, angel. Miss you being here with me.

Her heart clenches in her chest and she can’t help but feel guilty. He had asked (more like begged) her to come on the North American leg of the tour with him. She had refused, thinking that she needed to stay at home so she wouldn’t have to take so many days off of work. Looking back on it, she probably could have taken the time off and not had to explain. It was just one of the things that seemed to happen when her boss had found out she was dating Harry Styles.

I’m sorry for not coming with you :( I miss you, though. So, so much.

The awful feeling in her gut doesn’t subside - in fact, it only grows stronger. She suddenly realizes that if she had said yes, she would be with him right now. Not only would she be getting him out of those god forsaken hotel rooms but she also wouldn’t be withholding the life changing information that she has.

It’s alright, love. I’ll see you in a few weeks and then we can be together for a while. No worrying about tour.

The prospect of him being at home for a while, possibly even more than a year, causes excitement to course through her veins. Maybe if he’s home for long enough to where he can start raising their child with her, then he’ll be happier when she tells him the news.

I can’t wait until you’re back in my arms, bubs. I miss cuddling with you.

She can’t see him right now but she knows that - most likely - he’s got that soft smile on his face that he always says is reserved for her. He always does so when he lets himself take a moment and think about cuddling with her.

You’ll get all the cuddles the moment that I’m home. Promise.

Their conversation doesn’t last much longer. With the time zones being so different and the two of them being in different countries, with their sadness eating away at them.

She’s in his arms the moment that he swings the front door open. The force of the surprise impact knocks him back for a moment, but he eventually regains his balance and wraps his arms around her.

She sighs in content at the feeling of warmth radiating from his body to hers. He’s always been warmer than her, but right now, after he’s been gone for months, he feels warmer than all the blankets she’s tried to keep herself cozy with.

“Hey, baby.” He mumbles into her hair, not making any move to pull away or even shut the door.

“I missed you so much.” He can hear the crack in her voice and he immediately squeezes her tighter.

“Missed you too, darling.”

She’s the one to pull away first. She unwraps herself from his arms and moves to shut the door behind him. She avoids meeting his eyes knowing that he’s already sensed that something is going on. She never pulls away first, and she’s afraid that he’s going to notice and ask her about it. Hopefully, he’ll just brush it off as the fact that the door needed to be closed or that dinner still needed to be cooked.

Of course, he doesn’t just brush it off. “Is something bothering you?”

She turns away from him and begins to make her way towards the kitchen. “I’m fine, H.”

“Love, please don’t lie to me.” Her breath hitches and her steps falter. That’s the last thing she wants to do but she knows if she looks at him and tells him what’s really going on inside her head, she’s going to completely crumble.

“I’m not lying to you, honey. I’m fine.” He scoffs at her words. He knows they’re not true, but he chooses not to push her too far. If he continues to pester her about it, she’ll close herself off to him and then there will be absolutely no way that he’ll be able to figure out what’s bugging her.

“Do you want me to cook dinner, petal?” He comes up behind where she had stopped and wraps his arms around her from behind. She immediately leans into him and he knows that all she needs right now is his love.

“I can do it, honey. You’ve been busy lately.” She hesitantly turns in his arms and peers up at him biting her lip.

Now seems like as good of a time as ever to tell him.

“H, can we maybe wait a minute on the food?” She tries her best to not let her voice waiver but she knows there’s a slight wobble that won’t go unnoticed by Harry.

“Yeah, of course.” He keeps his arms wrapped around her and waits for her to make the first move.

She stands still for a few moments, barely moving an inch. She inhales but it’s shaky and she feels the tears bubbling up to the surface before she can stop them. She tucks her head into his chest as the sobs that she’s been holding in for weeks escape.

“Shh. It’s okay, petal. I’ve got you. Just let it out.” He smooths the small wisps of hair on her head and slowly rocks their bodies back and forth. The gestures calm her and soon enough the tears start to subside.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She sighs at his question and he’s scared that he’s crossed a line, that he’s asked too much of her too soon. He knows that he hasn’t, however, when she slowly nods her head and takes a step back.

He releases his hold on her and she wipes the remaining wetness of her cheeks. She glances around the kitchen and Harry gently lifts her up onto the counter so that she won’t have to stay standing.

“Um, so I have to tell you something.” She starts, and she busies herself with picking at her nails to avoid his gaze. “And I don’t want you to be mad, okay?”

She still doesn’t look up at him, but she pauses, giving him the time to answer. After he hums his agreement, she takes a shaky breath and continues. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, I promise. I just… I don’t know… somehow it happened and I just… this is terrifying. And I’m probably making absolutely no sense right now, I’m so sorry.” She can feel the lump in her throat returning yet again and she buries her face in her hands to take a minute to breathe.

Harry hasn’t moved from the spot that he was in. He feels like his feet are stuck to the floor. He can’t come up with a reasonable guess as to what she could possibly be talking about and it’s making him more nervous that being on stage does.

“It’s okay, baby. Take your time.” He doesn’t want her to feel like she has to rush to get the words out.

“Um, so, I know you’re on tour and you have a career that doesn’t slow down for anyone, which is why when I tell you this I want you to know that you don’t have to stick around for it. I can do it on my own, okay?” His stomach drops when she says that, but he doesn’t say anything yet. “I’m… I’m pregnant, H. Like I said, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to, you’re terribly busy, and---

“Y/N why would you even say that?” He tries to hold the harshness back, to not snap at her right now, but the fact that she thinks he wouldn’t want to be completely present in his child’s life makes him see red.

“What do you mean?” She’s suddenly on alert, the tone of his voice taking her completely by surprise.

“How could you even let the thought cross your mind that I wouldn’t want to be around? You know me, love.” He’s trying his hardest to not let his emotions take over because honestly, he’s not entirely sure if he’d start yelling or break down sobbing.

“Harry, you’re a singer. Your entire career is touring the world. Singing is your dream, and there’s no way that I’m going to ask you to give that up.” She didn’t think that he would be offended by her giving him an out, but by the cracking in his voice, it’s clear she’s never said something more hurtful to him.

“Yeah, music is my job, and I love that. But my dream, Y/N, the thing that I want more than anything in this entire world, is you.” His voice catches in his throat and she finally looks up at him. He looks broken, like the things she said, the things she thought would help, really just ripped his heart into shreds.

“H, I really can’t ask you to give that up in any way.” She wants to give in, to say that everything will be fine, that he can take time off of touring if he wants. The rational part of her, however, the part that remembers asking him to give this up to any extent could make him resent her, fights against it.

“Baby, listen to me, please.” He pleads. “You’re not asking me to do anything. Regardless of whether or not you want me in our child’s life… which I pray to the lord that you do, I’m taking time off after the tour. I want to spend time at home, with you, with both of you.” He gently cradles her face in his palms and strokes her cheek with his thumb.

“Are you sure?” She doesn’t want to keep fighting him on it. All she wants is to raise the family that she’s wanted for her entire life with the most extraordinary love.

“Absolutely.” He promises.

He bends slightly so that his face is directly in front of her stomach. “Daddy's going to be here for you and Mommy every step of the way, bub.”

Thank you so much for reading lovelies!!!!! Again, reblog the pieces that you like and don’t be afraid to leave feedback!!

Permanent Taglist - @spidey-reids-2003, @jackiehollanderr, @scarletsoldierrr, @thewayilookatbacon, @parker-barnes-af, @lost-in-the-stars03, @kisses-holland, @josiemara, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing, @fanficscuziranout, @akila-stilinski, @babebenhardy @write-from-the-heart, @slytherinambitious, @miraclesoflove @quaksonhehe, @dummiesshort, @sleepybesson, @sunshine96love, @itstaskeen, @wotamelonsugar, @fallingfordolans, @missleahlin, @urbandcal

Harry Styles Taglist - @alwayshave-faith, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever, @sucker-09 @just-chillin-out-in-me-box, @macksmedicine, @xo-spidey, @theresthingsthatwellneverknow, @shawnieeboyy,

#Zoey Writes #Harry Styles #dadathon #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing

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moony-artnstuff · 3 years ago

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Bruno comforting a reader with Raynaud’s Syndrome:

@tolkien-fantasy I hope this offers you some comfort, hun!❤

Bruno does not think it weird you’re missing a few fingers, in fact he came up with this silly idea to hold down as many fingers as you’re missing when giving you a high-five (so, for example, now it’s a high-three!)

He uses his future vision to keep an eye on the weather and the possibility of you getting cold.

Bruno always has a pair of gloves and a scarf nearby and will occasionally just wrap you up in his poncho he suspects you might be cold.

Colombia is a generally warm country, so the winters are usually mild. This does not stop Bruno from buying every pair of mittens and gloves he can find whenever the winter months arrive for you to wear.

He’ll rub your hands when they are cold

Offers you warm drinks and other stuff to warm your fingers.

Bruno often kisses the stumps on your hand where your fingers used to be, especially if you’re feeling insecure, but also just because.

He comforts you whenever you are worried you’ll lose more, promising to help you keep warm and safe during cold periods and reassuring you that Julietta will always be able to heal you should things go wrong.

He tries to soothe you as best as he can whenever phantom pain rears its ugly head, trying things like mirror therapy with both his and your own hand. It has become a little ritual of yours to just sit down and do mirror therapy whenever you have phantom pain. It doesn’t always work, but that does not stop Bruno from finding other ways to help you.

Despite the fact that the winters in Colombia tended to be mild, your hands still felt like blocks of ice. The tips of your fingers had turned pale and there was a dull ache in them. Letting out a worried sigh, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands in hopes of gaining some warmth, but to little avail.

“Mi corazón?”

Turning around you were met with Bruno’s warm eyes and worried expression. As his gaze flickered down to your hands, still wrapped in the sleeves of your sweater, understanding dawned on him.

“Your hands are cold, are they not?”

“Yes.” you answered, watching as he walked over and took your hands in his. As he gently began to rub them, blowing warm air on them as he went, you slowly felt the warmth creep back into your fingers. Bruno’s dark curls tickled your wrists, and you could feel the slight scratch of his stubble whenever he pressed delicate kisses to your knuckles and stumps.

“There, that should feel better.” Bruno said, before taking a pair of woolen gloves from somewhere underneath his poncho and pulling them over your now much warmer hands. He stuttered when you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a fond look in your eyes as you said,

“Thank you, corazoncito."

#bruno x reader #encanto bruno #encanto x reader

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itslieutenanthawkeye · 3 years ago

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Day 3 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: Interruptions

"A Crowded Home"

Ao3

With peace celebrations taking place, Mikasa and Jean's apartment is a bit more crowded than usual.

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Mikasa fanned herself by the side of the crib, her eyes half-shut. Summers had become warmer with the passing of the years, and this one was a particularly hot one. She’d put the crib by the window and turned the fan on, but still, hot beads of sweat ran down her forehead. Their baby girl didn’t seem too warm, thankfully. She was sleeping in her yellow onesie, looking like the cutest kid in the entire world, but that was nothing new.

“Is she asleep?” Jean asked from the door, walking in with a bundle in his arms. Mikasa turned to look at him and nodded. “Our little guy is hungry, by the way, and he’s not latching onto the bottle.”

“Here, let me have him,” Mikasa said, and Jean placed their baby into her arms with a dexterity proper of a good father. He was only five months old, but he was just as clever as his dad. Their little boy found her breast quick, and latched.

Jean sat at her side, taking the fan from her and using it to air both her and the baby. “He’s such a mama’s boy,”

“Just like a man I know,” Mikasa pointed out, arching an eyebrow before planting a kiss on his cheek. “He loves you, a lot.”

“I know,” Jean said, rubbing their chubby little baby’s head. He casted a glance at the crib, smiling. “She went to sleep fast.”

“Can you blame her?” Mikasa sighed and looked at the pile of dirty clothes on the corner. “Connie’s gonna wash all of that. He had the idea to do the mud wars.”

Jean snorted, this time giving her a kiss. “I already told him.”

Their little apartment had been more cramped than usual. With Annie and Armin sharing the living room with Connie, Levi and Falco taking over the baby’s room and Gabi in their spare room, they’d had to move the baby’s crib to their little girl’s room. “Is everyone asleep?”

“Yes,” Jean said, running a hand across their baby’s head. He kissed his head, then went to kiss the curve of her neck. “We should put him in bed, don’t you think? The bathtub is finally empty.”

“What are you suggesting?” Mikasa said, aware already of what he was suggesting.

“I could wash your back. I could give you a massage,” he said with a wink. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze, which she gladly welcomed. His hands were nice and large, perfect for rubbing her all over. “Just put the little guy in his crib. You need rest, don’t you?”

“You need rest too,” she said in a low voice, closing her eyes. “You’ve been doing all the work with the council, have you not? You need the sleep more than I do.”

“What I need is you,” Jean said. She handed him their baby, now soundly asleep, and Jean put him in his crib. Mikasa peeked in and confirmed he had his eyes shut. People often said he looked like her, but all Mikasa could see in him was his father’s face.

“He’s beautiful,” she said, closing her eyes when Jean put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed again. “He looks just like his dad.”

“We make pretty babies, don’t we?” he whispered in her ear, making the hairs of her nape stick out in pleasure.

“The prettiest,” she agreed, smiling. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes and inviting him to kiss her. Jean leaned forward, pressing his lips to her. “Are you sure the bathtub is empty?”

“Yes,”

“And no one will hear?”

Jean smiled, brushing the hair away from her neck. “It’ll be our secret…if you stay quiet enough.”

“I’m always quiet,”

“You never are.”

Their mouths met again in a tired dance of longing. She knew what he wanted to do in the bathtub, and she wanted it as well, but something told her their lovemaking tonight would be short. A short dance to remove the longing those weeks of a full house had caused. “I love you, Mikasa.”

Their baby stirred in his sleep, and she and Jean exchanged a panicked look before stepping out of the room. Short and sweet it would be, but she needed Jean raw inside her, and all the people in their house plus the babies had barely given them time with each other the past weeks.

They had visited the island for peace celebrations, and their little girl’s birthday, and although she adored Armin like her own brother, she sometimes wished he and Levi had taken Reiner and Pieck’s example and taken up Historia’s invitation to house them in one of her country manors.

Grabbing him by the hand, Mikasa pulled him into their bathroom. The scent of oils and herbs hit her the moment she opened the door, and one look at the bubbles and the two glasses of wine told her he’d prepared this beforehand.

Jean closed the door behind her and Mikasa turned to face him, eyes closed, lips slightly pouted in anticipation. He held her by the shoulders and placed another lazy, long kiss on her lips. “You really meant the relaxing part, did you not?”

“Yes, I did,” Jean said, smiling as he pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ve been having a rough couple of weeks, with all the celebrations and the crazy folk running around town. It’s time you get a rest, Mrs. Kirstein.”

A little moan escaped her throat at that. “I like it when you get possessive.”

Despite their tiredness, Jean’s smile was wickedly flirty. “Here, let me.”

He undressed her slowly and deliberate, taking her in as if he were enjoying some sort of heavenly feast with his eyes. First, her shirt and skirt and boots. When she stood in her underwear, he went slower still, taking his time to rub every bit of her, to kiss every inch.

Mikasa threw her head back when he lowered her panties and heard him moan from the very bottom of his throat. “Onto the rim, please,” Jean requested, his voice polite, as if he were requesting something from a queen. “I want to eat all of you, Mikasa.”

The yelp that escaped her was pleading, anxious to have his tongue on her folds, licking all of her wetness. Mikasa sat on the edge of the bathtub, spreading her legs apart for him, using her legs to spread the folds of her pussy for him.

Jean kneeled in front of her, his eyes fiery, and Mikasa couldn’t help but to feel an animal sort of possessiveness. Those eyes were hers, that desire, that delicious tongue that knew how to move perfectly to give her as much pleasure as possible…it all belonged to her.

“Make me feel good, Jean,” she asked, stroking his chin sweetly. “Please, make me come.”

Jean smiled and gave her hand a fleeting kiss. “I adore you, Ackerman. I’ll make you feel good as many times as I can.”

His tongue gave her a tentative little lick, which was enough for Mikasa to bring her hands up to her mouth and bite down on her skin. Their apartment was crowded; she didn’t want anyone to hear her…and she was loud enough to begin with.

“I love you,” she whispered as Jean buried his tongue inside her slit, his nose doing funny, fantastic little movements against her pulsing clitoris. His tongue came out of her and was replaced by two fingers, which hooked inside her to that rugged spot that made pleasure ten times more enjoyable. And his tongue…oh, his marvelous tongue stroked at her clitoris, his saliva and her juices mixing in the naughtiest rhythmless song.

“Hello?” the childish little voice that accompanied the knocking made both her and Jean perk up. “Mommy? Are you in?”

“My robe,” Mikasa urged, thanking heavens that they’d locked the door. Moving as quick as if he had his gear on, Jean threw the robe in her direction and went to rinse his mouth at the sink. She caught the robe in the air and, with the agility she’d had from her teenage years as a soldier, Mikasa wrapped it around herself. She went to the door, then opened it slightly, encountering her cute little toddler. “Hey, sweetie. How did you get out of the crib?”

“Mama,” their little girl said. “Are you taking a bath?”

“Yes, I am,” Mikasa said. Her daughter outstretched her hands in her direction, and Mikasa’s chest filled with warmth at the sight of her chubby hands opening and closing, asking her to lift her without words. She took her in her arms and pressed her against her chest, where Sasha rested her tiny little head. “You should be sleeping, you know.”

“Bath,” she said, pointing inside, smiling when she saw the water. “Bubbles, mama,”

“Yes, bubbles,” Mikasa said, giving her a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“Papa,” Sasha said, pointing at her dad with another huge smile. “Papa made bubbles.”

“He did,” Jean replied, taking a handful of the bubbles and putting them around his mouth. “Papa made a bubble beard.”

Sasha laughed, delighted, her childish little voice echoing in the apartment. “Silly.”

“Hey,” Jean said, grabbing more bubbles and stepping close to put some on her face. “Now you’re silly too, little girl.”

Sasha laughed again as her tiny hands went to the foam on her face, anxious to explore more textures. She was a curious little thing, with smart eyes and keen ears to everything around her, and an almost supernatural instinct to know where she and Jean were at all times. Mikasa still wasn’t sure if it was some sort of remnant from the Ackerman genes.

“Mama, bath,” she said, pointing at the water with a chubby finger.

“You want another bath?” Mikasa asked, brushing some of her light brown hair away from her face. Sasha looked exactly like her, when it came to bone structure and the shape of their faces. But as for the hair and eyes, she carried her father’s hazel and light brown tone of hair. “Baby, you already had one earlier.”

Sasha leaned her little face against her chest again. “I’m warm, mama,”

Mikasa closed her eyes, almost overwhelmed by the sweetness of her little girl. How she had managed to create someone so perfect, so sweet and happy, Mikasa still didn’t understand. She pressed her cheek against Sasha’s head, noticing she was warmer than usual.

“Jean,” Mikasa said seriously. “She does feel warm. Fever warm.”

Jean frowned and stepped closer, putting the back of his hand against their daughter’s forehead. “She is,” he said, suddenly concerned. “Do you think she’s coming down with anything? She might’ve caught a cold.”

“I don’t know,” Mikasa said, switching Sasha’s weight from one arm to the other. “Sweetie, are you feeling good?”

“My head hurts, mommy,” Sasha said, and Mikasa and Jean exchanged another look of concern.

“I’ll get your kit,” he said, switching from the passionate lover to the concerned father in the fraction of a second. Mikasa still didn’t know which side of him she liked the most, and perhaps she would never figure that out. “Also, apple juice?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, unbuttoning their daughter’s onesie. “I’ll bathe her quick.”

“Sure thing,” Jean said, springing into action.

________________________

Jean could barely keep his eyes open. Sasha’s fever had finally dwindled, but it had taken them a whole night of watching over her to manage it. He hated seeing his children sick, and he feared that cold, awful terror that enveloped his heart every time he imagined them sick or injured would never fully go away when it came to them.

“Hey,” Connie said, sitting by his side while carrying the baby in his hands. “I got him to latch onto the bottle.”

“Connie you bastard,” Jean replied, giving his little boy a kiss on the forehead. “How is it that you can mange him to drink from the bottle and not me?”

“Maybe he wants me to be his papa,” Connie joked, winking in Jean’s direction before turning to do a funny face at the baby. “Yes, you do, don’t you? You want your mama to marry uncle Connie. Let Jean pay all the alimony, yes?”

“Shut up, Springer, you’ve got a girlfriend,” Jean snorted, unable to keep his gaze from his son. He was such a beautiful, strong boy, the perfect image of his mother. Both of their children looked exactly like Mikasa, only Sasha had inherited his hazel eyes and the color of his hair. “Thanks for helping me feed him, by the way.”

“Not a problem,” Connie said, giving their room a look. “It’s the least I could do, considering it’s my fault little Sasha’s ill.”

“It’s not at all,” Jean said, shaking his head, giving his son another kiss. He was so soft and cute, and if Jean could, he would stay home every day just to carry him and Sasha in his arms. “It was the heat, and the games. She’s still a kid, she’ll get better in no time.”

“I hope so,” Connie said, stroking his finger against the baby’s cheek. “Ah, you two make the most adorable kids. I’m coming more often to babysit,”

“Thanks, Connie,”

“When are you having a third one?” he blurted out. “Uncle Connie wants a football team.”

“Uncle Connie can start having his own children,” Jean laughed, taking his son into his arms, moving him the way he’d learned long ago. Jean gave him another kiss and he smiled at him, moving his tiny little arm, as if trying to find something. Jean offered him his finger, and his son took it without problems, giving a soft baby laughter that almost brought tears to his eyes.

“I love these two so much,” Jean said. “I’d make ten babies with her, if I could.”

“What’s stopping you?” Connie snorted.

“I’m strong, but ten is a bit too much,” Mikasa said, coming from the room and sitting next to Jean. She gave their son a kiss on the cheek, and he let go of Jean’s fingers and began to flail his little arms in Mikasa’s direction.

“I just love how he’s a mama’s boy,” Jean laughed, kissing their child again before handing him to Mikasa. “I don’t blame you, little guy, I want to be with her all the time, too.”

“Do you guys want me to hold him?” Connie asked. “Give you guys time to sleep.”

“Would you really not mind?” Mikasa said, moving their baby against her breast, lulling him back to sleep.

“It’ll give me practice,” he said, offering his arms to Mikasa. “I’ve got eight months to practice,”

Jean exchanged a look with Mikasa, then both stared at Connie with wide eyes. “No way, Connie.”

He nodded excitedly, looking as proud as Jean had felt the moment when Mikasa had told him about her first pregnancy. Men were dumb, Jean thought idly, as if he or Connie were the ones to carry a child for a whole nine months.

“Congratulations, Connie,” Mikasa said. “I didn’t think you—”

“It was a surprise baby, like yours,” Connie laughed as he took their son in his arms, who barely stirred from his sleep. Jean frowned; why was it that his son was only ever restless with him? He felt asleep so easily with Connie and Armin, and even Levi. What was wrong with him? “I’ll take him to his crib and read a book there. Is Sasha asleep?”

“She is, finally,” Mikasa said.

“Then the living room is all yours, lovers,” Connie said, with an outrageously exaggerated whisper. “Have fun but don’t be loud.”

“you think he’ll do alright? We need to visit Monica, make some sort of guidebook for him. Connie’s mom is older, she’ll need some help…” Mikasa said as Connie entered their baby room, turning to face Jean. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, perfect,” Jean said, although not too convincingly.

“Your son gets excited when he knows you’re around, haven’t you noticed?” she said, scooting closer to him on the couch. “Jean, he adores you. Even when he was inside me, he would always kick so hard whenever you touched him.”

“Why can’t he fall asleep with me?”

“Haven’t you seen how he stares at you?” Mikasa replied, kissing his neck, then his chin, as her other hand undid the first three buttons of his shirt. “He can’t stop looking at you. Didn’t you see how tight he was gripping your finger? He’s more a papa’s boy than he’s a mama’s boy.”

“I just want to be a good dad,” Jean said. “What kind of dad am I if he can’t even latch onto a bottle when I hold him?”

“Jean, we’re tired and you’re overthinking,” she said, pressing her body against his arm, bringing all his attention to her. She leaned forward, kissing the back of his ear with a sweet, sexy smile on her face. “Please, don’t overthink. Our children adore you and you are a great father. I adore you.”

He turned so he could cup her face with his hand. “You do?”

“I do,” she said, closing her eyes. Jean took that invitation and joined his mouth with hers. She opened her lips, allowing his tongue to enter her, to rub up against her own. “I adore you, Jean Kirstein.”

“I adore you even more,” he said, enveloping her whole with his arms. Mikasa was a tall woman, but he still took a sort of stupid, manly pride in knowing that he was tall enough to envelop her tightly in his limbs. “I adore you so much, my love.”

“You’re making it a competition,” she laughed as her kisses strayed to his chin, then his neck, her hands agile and quick, unbuttoning his shirt until his chest was exposed in the early morning light. “Everyone is out in the city, and Connie isn’t coming out of the bedroom in a while,”

“He’ll give us at least forty minutes,” Jean replied with a soft chuckle. “Sasha’s asleep?”

“And I closed the door, we’ll hear her opening it if she wakes up,” she assured him.

“You got anything in mind to pass time?”

“I have something,” she said, pressing her open palm against his chest, pushing him against the couch. “Sit back, please.”

Jean did as she requested, watching her in anticipation, already guessing what she was going to do. Mikasa’s hands unfastened his belt as she kissed him, and her nimble fingers found the buttons on his pants quick as always. When her hand dipped inside his underpants, Jean was already hard as a rock.

She pulled out his cock, giving it long, slow strokes that urged growls from deep inside his chest. “You’ve barely slept,” Jean said in a poor attempt at convincing her he didn’t desperately need her. “Don’t you want to—”

“No,” Mikasa said seriously, her strokes hard and steady. “I want this.”

“You’re just a filthy girl, aren’t you?” Jean joked, which was met with a soft snort from her part, since she was still so focused on the constant rubbing on his dick. “You’ve no idea how much I want you now, Mikasa.”

His wife smiled at him, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on the chin before her mouth trailed downwards. Jean’s body shivered hole when she gave a little suck to both of his nipples before placing a kiss on the head of his dick, and it trembled even more when he watched her lap at the liquid accumulating on the tip.

“Open up,” he asked, stroking the back of her head. Mikasa did as he requested without a response, and she lowered herself down onto the whole length of him, sucking as she came back up. Jean breathed heavily, feeling her throat expand to welcome him, then feeling her mouth tighten as she sucked him gently when he pulled out. “You’re brilliant at that,”

“I know,” Mikasa replied, coming back down onto him.

“Are you going to let me fuck your face?” Jean asked. His words were met with an outrageously flirty gaze from her part.

“And you’re going to cum on my mouth,” she said, putting his cock back in her mouth.

Jean moaned and held her by the head, and she allowed him to guide her in speed, only choking a little bit on his length. She pulled him out and spat on his cock, stroked at it hard while it was still wet, then gave him more steady sucking as she stroked, while her free hand was busy massaging his balls.

Jean held her by the head as she moved steadily, pushing him further and further into the pool of pleasure that was her body. At a point, he lifted her skirt and introduced two fingers into her wet, expectant hole.

He tilted his head back and moved his fingers the way she loved, adoring those moans that were stifled by his cock. He would give her pleasure back in full as soon as she was finished with him, but he had to wonder if she would let him or she would just get him hard again to make love…

“We’re home,” Armin announced, opening the door to the living room just as Mikasa came back up to show him her mouth filled with his cum. Armin gave a little squeal and covered his eyes, while Mikasa covered her mouth with both hands and Jean used his loose sleeve to wipe off the droplets of semen that had spilled down her neck.

Luckily for them, Annie and Armin’s line of view was blocked by the backrest of the couch, but they were not stupid, and the two of them had been married for a long time. Surely, both blonds and captain Levi behind them had figured out precisely what he and Mikasa had been doing.

“Don’t you have children in the house?” Levi said angrily, limping his way in with the help of Gabi and Falco.

“They’re asleep!” Jean snapped, buttoning back his pants. “Why don’t you guys ring the bell?”

“You gave us a key, dimwit,” Levi said.

“Why are you doing it in the middle of your living room?!” Annie demanded.

“Who was doing it?” Pieck asked from the hallways.

“Who do you think?” Levi grumbled, settling on the armchair nearest to him. “Which are the two people who can’t keep their hands off each other ever since they became a couple?”

Gabi smiled as she settled Levi onto the armchair. “You and Onya—”

“Shh, Gabi,” Falco said, grabbing her and Reiner and taking them to the balcony.

“What are you all doing here?” Mikasa asked, badly contained sexual frustration in her voice.

“We’re sorry,” Pieck said, coming in the door while carrying a box full of food. “Gabi suggested we had dinner tonight here. We’ll cook, so you two don’t have to move an inch.”

“Are you planning on a buffet?” Jean asked, still too aroused between the legs to do anything other than sit and wait for the effect of Mikasa’s lips on his to wear off. “Why did you guys bring in so much food?”

“We’d thought it would be a way to say thanks to you guys,” Falco replied, his cheeks colored red.

“Your mom is coming too, tonight,” Levi said, giving Gabi a thank you nod as she propped his leg up on another chair.

“Let me guess, I’m supposed to go pick everyone and bring them back here?” Jean asked.

“You’re the one with a car,” Pieck said, shrugging.

“We’re filling up your pantry, Kirstein, don’t be such a grump,” Reiner shouted in from the balcony.

Jean leaned onto his knees, giving Mikasa a sideways glance and noticing her discreetly rearranging her clothes. Even with her shirt on, he could tell her nipples were still hardened. “All those hotels, all those hotels for nothing.”

“What was that, Jeanbo?” Reiner asked.

“Fuck off,” Jean said, then noticed the distinct creaking of the room to their door opening.

“Auntie Pieck!” Sasha shouted, running in from their room, looking blessedly fresher than the night before, imbued with energy again. Pieck put the box of food on the nearest table and lifted Sasha into her arms. It might’ve been something that laid hidden in her Ackerman genes, but colds didn’t last long at all. He only hoped their baby boy would grow the same way.

“Hey,” Mikasa said, leaning closer to kiss him on the temple. “Just a few more days.”

“I could have them all year in the island,” Jean replied, turning his face so he could peck her lips quickly, taking an advantage from the buzz that had taken over the apartment. “I could be a gracious host if they’d gotten a hotel.”

“I know,” Mikasa said with a smile, brushing the hair away from his face, and the love in her eyes was all Jean needed for his mood to dissipate. “We should stop trying to sneak around while our home is so crowded.”

“We should,” Jean agreed, smiling in defeat. “We’re acting like silly teenagers.”

Now it was Mikasa’s turn to agree. “We are.”

“I can’t help it when you’re this pretty,” Jean said, cupping her face again.

“I promise I’ll be all yours when we’re less crowded,” Mikasa assured him, planting a kiss on his forehead, then one on each of his cheeks.

“Are you two gonna fuck right in front of us now?” Levi asked from his chair.

Little Sasha giggled in Pieck’s arms “What is fu—”

“It’s nothing!” Pieck squealed happily, glaring in Levi’s direction for a second before turning her attention back to Sasha. “You want to make an apple pie, baby?”

Sasha clapped her hands and beamed. “Yes!”

“There are children here, captain.” Mikasa said, glaring in Levi’s direction.

“I know, sorry,” he said, admitting reluctantly, for once, that he’d screwed up. “You two remember that as well.”

Mikasa came to her feet, looking serious but not angered. She was much more patient with their guests than he was, something for which Jean was thankful. He watched her scold Levi for a little while before going over to where Pieck, Gabi and their daughter had began setting things to bake the pie, feeling a stupid little grin spread over his face.

On the balcony, Reiner, Armin and Falco were setting up a grill he guessed they’d brought over from the continent. Yes, the apartment was crowded, but at least everyone was there, and, for the time being, everything was at peace.

_________________

Mikasa looked at herself in the mirror once again. It had been a while since the last time she’d worn something so fancy, and Pieck had insisted that a low-cut cleavage was very stylish nowadays in the continent, while Gabi had insisted that pink was Mikasa’s color.

She’d never been knowledgeable when it came to style and colors, but Mikasa had to admit she liked the way she looked. The pink fabric shone a little under the mansion’s lights, and she’d brushed her hair until it was black as night itself. And despite that she’d never been vain, pretty was the only adjective that came to her mind when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Of course, her pretty was different now than as ten years ago. Now, the muscles in her arms had given way to soft flesh, still strong, but not as razor-sharp as before. Her breasts were fuller due to the new baby, and she could no longer see the marks of her abs through the clothes. It was all product of change, of the spring that had come to her life after everything had burned down.

The ballroom was beautiful, much like every other celebration they’d attended hosted by Historia. Despite the hanging chandeliers, the servants dressed in a hundred different colors, and the ambassadors gathered in their fancy traditional garments, Mikasa’s eyes went to the stage.

She’d decided to not partake in the ceremony; she’d had enough politics for a lifetime, but she’d insisted that Jean participated. After all, there had to be at least one representative from their family up there.

“They look good,” Falco said as Historia went and presented the medals to each of the people who had been involved with the peace accords years ago.

“You two look good, too,” Mikasa said, looking at him and Gabi, who wore clothes of matching blue. Falco blushed, uttering a thank you that was mostly mumbling, and she turned her attention back to the stage.

Despite that she’d stayed at the back, Jean caught sight of her immediately. He looked so handsome in his formal suit, with his hair slicked back and his face shaved. Her husband smiled from where he stood, in an expression so flirty that Mikasa had to wring her hands together. There was something in his eyes, an idea, an idea Mikasa had the suspicion that she would enjoy it to no end.

____________________

Jean found her by one of the fountains out in the gardens, taking to Gabi while holding a glass of water in her hands. She looked gorgeous, simply gorgeous, with that pink dress and her hair loose. There was a pink collar to match her clothes resting against her neck, but that didn’t draw his attention away from the cleavage, which could’ve been scandalous if it had been a couple of centimeters lower.

“Hey,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. “How are you liking the party, Gabi?”

“It’s fun,” Gabi said, stuffing another shrimp inside her mouth. “I can’t keep count of how many of these I’ve had.”

“And how are you, you gorgeous little thing?” he said against her ear.

“You looked nice on stage,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

“You looked better, though,” with all the organizing he and Armin had done, he hadn’t seen her before the ceremony. So, the vision of her in her fancy clothes had stirred that badly hidden desire he’d pent up all these days.

Everyone would be gone in a couple of days, back to their lives on the continent or their lives as diplomats, and they would have the apartment to themselves again. But he wanted her now.

“We got a call, you know.”

Mikasa looked at him. “Your mom?” she asked, concerned. “Did something happen to the kids?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, frowning and feigning innocence. “But we need to go inside to call them back. It sounded urgent.”

________________

Mikasa moaned, clutching the face that was kneeled in front of her, buried under her skirt. “You’re a liar,” she said, but her complaints were muffled by the constant movement of his tongue against her pussy. “You’re a cheeky man,”

“I know,” he replied, closing his eyes as he parted her folds, sinking his finger inside her as his mouth kept working the pleasure spots in between her legs. “I’m a bad, naughty man.”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, bringing both hands up to her mouth to muffle her voice. He hadn’t dragged her to the reception, but to one of the many fancy bathrooms in the mansion, one that had cushioned chairs and large mirrors as an antechamber for the actual bathrooms.

As soon as they’d gone in, he’d pushed her gently onto one of the armchairs, and he’d spread her open to eat her whole. He dipped another finger in, then a third one before twitching them quickly inside her as his tongue moved against her clit, making her squeal. She covered her mouth again,

“We’re far from everyone,” he said, kissing her inner thighs while his fingers moved inside her. “You can be loud, Mikasa,”

She didn’t remove her hands from her mouth. Jean smiled at that. “Do you think you’re going to be that loud?”

She nodded, looking away from him. What did he expect, after almost a full month without anything but quick and passionate kisses and unsuccessful attempts at making love? She was a cluster of nerves and hormones, heightened by the perfume of his hair and the suit that looked beautiful on him.

“I’m close,” she announced, closing her eyes, and Jean’s tongue applied a little more pressure onto her clitoris. “Jean, I’m going to get really wet, stop,”

“I don’t care if you flood the place,” Jean said, eating her with a hunger proper of a man that hadn’t had his wife in almost a month. “I want you to flood the place, actually. Flood all of us. Come for me, baby,”

“Your suit!” Mikasa reminded him. “Y-you don’t have a spare—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jean said teasing her clit with his free thumb as his tongue dipped in her slit for a quick second. “You’re so wet and delicious, Mikasa. I don’t care if my suit gets dirty. Come for me, baby. I know you want to. Let me drink you whole.”

“But, the party…”

“We’re leaving right after this,” Jean announced. “I’m gonna fuck you in the car too.”

“Fuck,” Mikasa moaned, all her breath leaving her body as Jean resumed his licks. “Fuck, Jean!”

“Ah, foul mouthed,” he teased, making her smile. “Come on, Mikasa, come for me. Come for your husband, come all over my face,”

“You’re so naughty,” Mikasa said, throwing her head back as she reached her first orgasm in almost a month. She opened her mouth, mouthing Jean’s name as pleasure took over her body and spilled itself onto his mouth. Her whole body trembled, almost in rhythm to Jean’s moans and growls of pleasure. She moved her hips in circular movements, taking a hold of his face by the hair to keep him in place, as tiny bouts of pleasure took over her body in erratic patterns.

Once she was done twitching from pleasure, she was able to speak. “Your suit, the seat, Jean…Jean?”

“It’s all good,” he replied, lapping at her pussy with his long, wet mouth, sending shivers across her back. She looked at him and saw that his face and chin were shiny with her juices, but his suit was immaculate. Jean arched an eyebrow and smirked. “Do you think I’d let any of that go to waste?”

“Any of that?”

“Your juices,” he said, crawling on top of her. “I’d never let a drop go to waste.”

Mikasa closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath on her skin. “We’re gonna do it here?”

“Yes,” Jean said, kissing the curve of her neck. “Do you want to?”

She looked back at the door, which had remained tightly shut since their arrival. “Yes,” she admitted, wrapping her leg around his waist as Jean parted her dress.

“A dress that parts at the front,” he moaned, his cheeks impossibly red. His hands went to the zipper in his pants, and she felt his throbbing dick against her entrance a moment later. “You’re so sexy, you know that, don’t you?”

“I like to hear it from you,”

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispered against her ear, and Mikasa clutched his back as his manhood entered her, spreading her apart. Part of her thought Jean would finish the moment his whole length settled inside her, but he had a surprising restraint for someone who had just gone for so long without the physical touch they were accustomed to.

“You’re okay?” she asked, brushing a hand on his hair.

Jean chuckled breathlessly. “I’m only gonna last five minutes…I’m such a pathetic husband.”

Mikasa closed her eyes, bracing herself to utter the words in the back of her throat. Dirty talk had never been her stronghold. “You can fuck me all night. We’re not stopping after just one time.”

That was enough to get his spirits lifted. Jean moved back and then he pushed inside her, making her squeal. He gritted his teeth as he came out and pushed again, this time with his hand worked the cleavage and her breasts out spilled out.

He leaned forward, taking a nipple between his teeth and giving it a little suck. “I love these,” he said with a cheeky smile. “You’ve always had such great tits. I fucking love these tits,”

“You’re a pervert,” Mikasa replied, one of her eyes closed. Having him moving inside did wonders to make her feel hornier. “Fuck me harder,”

“Yes, my love,” he said, then he started to move his hips in quick motions, stirring her insides and shaping her to the outline of his cock. He was pounding her, and pounding her hard. Mikasa closed her eyes and used both hands to squeeze her own nipples, driven mad by the constant hit of his cock against her very bottom.

Someone rattled the door, forcing them out of their trance, of that spell that caused them to be separate from the world outside. “Get dressed,” he said, starting to pull out of her, but Mikasa tightened the grip she had on him.

“No,” she said, her insides throbbing with the size of her husband. “Against the door, Jean.”

That smile again, that flirty smirk that melted her into a puddle, that smirk she hadn’t noticed was so attractive until the dust from the war had settled. He carried her in his arms and pushed her against the wall, using both of their bodies as a blockage to keep whoever was outside from coming in.

“You’re naughtier than me,” Jean whispered, pounding into her faster.

“Harder, Jean,” Mikasa begged. Her mouth went to his neck and gave him a soft suck, which elicited another low groan from him. She’d already left a thousand little marks on his body with her teeth, which they had worn out this month they’d restrained themselves. It was time to bring those love marks back.

“Is anyone in here?!” a couple of female voices shouted from outside. Jean didn’t stop pounding on her, and Mikasa had to bite down on his skin. She lifted her head and pressed her forehead against his, loving the way his face contorted in pleasure with every thrust.

“Hello?!” another said. “We want to go inside!”

“It’s busy!” Mikasa replied angrily, not looking away from his eyes.

“It’s a big bathroom!”

“There are others!” Mikasa said, holding onto her husband as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. Heavens, he was so beautiful, and his body was just the best playground. She leaned closer to him, smiling. “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

“Can’t you come—”

“Go…away!” Mikasa shouted, although her shout turned into a high-pitched moan of pleasure as Jean resumed sucking on her nipples. She held onto him like her life depended on it, and she closed her eyes and clenched the muscles inside her to drive him over the edge. The women outside had left, and it was just the two of them again, lost in their little bubble of pleasure.

“I love you, baby,” Jean said, uttering her name in quick succession right after, his mind full of nothing other than her name, her presence, which only made her own pleasure increase. It was such a beautiful thing, to know this man had eyes for no other than her.

His orgasm was strong, and soon, her thighs and belly were coated with his semen. Jean was red faced, perhaps more than herself since he had done all the moving. He kissed her neck as she came down from the position they were in, then her cheeks, then her mouth. Her mouth moved against his slowly, their need for each other finally quenched after so many months of living in an overcrowded apartment.

“We’re not done yet,” she said, pushing him towards the armchair. “Now I’m going to ride you,”

“Yes, please,” he said, pressing his mouth against hers.

“I’ll suck you first,” Mikasa said, grabbing his wet cock in her hand.

“Fuck, yes,” Jean moaned, now his voice high pitched.

Another knock caught their attention, and Mikasa turned angrily towards the door. “I told you to go away!”

“Mikasa?” Historia said from the other side. “Mikasa, honey, you guys can’t hoard the bathrooms…besides, you guys…some people heard you.”

Her cheeks became of a deep red at the sound of the queen’s voice, and she felt Jean going limp in her hand. She turned to look at him, noticing he had the same mortified expression as herself, but the sight of him only brought out a little chuckle from deep within her chest. “We’re still acting like teenagers,”

Jean smiled at her widely. “We are,”

“Are you guys coming out?”

“In a second!” Jean shouted back.

“For real?”

“Yes, your highness!” Mikasa said, taking a minute to kiss her handsome husband’s face. "We will never hear the end of this from Connie and Reiner."

"Good thing they're leaving tomorrow," Jean replied, stroking her chin and kissing her lips, holding her face with both of his big hands. "Do you want to get out of her? Everyone can take a taxi back home for all I care."

Mikasa recalled that stretch of lonely woods that remained in the outskirts of the city, the few times they’d snuck out of their responsibilities to make love in the quiet of the forest. The car would be a bit tight, considering how much he enjoyed moving and how tall he was. One look into his hazel eyes told her he was thinking the same thing. "Take me out of here, Kirstein."

"Are you guys coming out?!" Historia asked from outside.

"Coming!" Jean and Mikasa shouted at the same time.

#Jeankasa #Jean x Mikasa #Jeankasa Smut Week #Jeankasa smut #jean x mikasa #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #JeanMika #smut #Ao3 #escritos

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Text

Thicker Than Water (Part 4)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (here) Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

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He awoke sore and badly rested, tears dried on his face.

Jaskier made it through the next day. He ate a little of the food Ciri offered him, only because when he tried to decline the first time her eyes got large and her bottom lip showed just the barest hint of a tremble. He couldn’t bear it. The dry horse bread that was usual for traveling rations crumbled in his mouth. He was so hungry, it was one of the best things he’d ever tasted.

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to even unsling his lute from his shoulder during their trek. His fingers itched to play, of course. He continued his story for Ciri and in his mind he played music for the background, he just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t sell his lute in this next town, but before they reached Kaer Morhen he would have to. It would give them money, and he wouldn’t be a burden. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and continued telling Ciri the story.

He noticed a bit before mid day that Geralt was watching him. That wasn’t out of sorts, of course. Yennefer and Ciri were watching him too, he was an excellent storyteller and the tale was enthralling. Geralt didn’t seem to be paying attention to the story though. He was staring-- glowering--brow low and furrowed, at Jaskier.

Jaskier felt hurt lance through him and he almost staggered, avoiding Geralt’s gaze. He knew Geralt didn’t want him along, didn’t want him at all, but he couldn’t even pretend? He couldn’t go back to their relationship before? Not the warm, almost companionable silences that had been nurtured between them, but the grunts and stone faced silence of the beginning of their acquaintance.

Jaskier breathed through the pain in his chest. Twenty years of silences, all kinds of them, stony and friendly and sleepy and painful and quietly nice. But they were back to the beginning, or worse, Geralt angry and Jaskier’s voice filling in places it didn’t belong.

“Jaskier?”

That was Ciri, and Jaskier realized that he’d actually trailed off mid-sentence.

“Sorry little highness,” he smiled and gave a funny little bow. “I’m but a simple entertainer, a poet and a fool, sometimes my mind runs away from me.”

“Fool is right,” Yennefer snorted. It wasn’t totally unkind, but it still stung. It stung even more when Geralt, so taciturn all day, snorted with laughter at her comment. Jaskier felt his ears burn and his chest ache.

“Now, where was I?”

“The king’s son met the North Wind,” Ciri said, matching Jaskier’s steps. “And he has to beat him in a game of wit to gain knowledge of where the sorcerer’s daughter was taken, that’s what you said, but you didn’t tell us what game yet.”

At least someone treasured his words, Jaskier thought. Although they weren’t worth much, he threw one out after the other.

Like garbage, whispered the back of his mind.

“Ah yes,” he said instead. “the North Wind sat before the king’s son, and laid out a chess set made of ice and wind.”

“How can chess pieces be made of wind?”

Jaskier smiled, Ciri asked questions at all the right places. “The North Wind wanders, he goes everywhere, blowing cold breath across The Continent. When the North Wind is present and we breath our breath can be seen.” Jaskier smiled here and added an aside, “My little sister used to call it dragon smoke. But by the same magic that gives the North Wind a body to walk the world, he can take our frozen breath and turn it cold and solid as glass.”

Jaskier let himself tell the story on autopilot. His feet ached. He’d been darning the socks he was wearing for a year or more, but he wasn’t good at it and the lumps were rubbing his toes raw. Worse than that, the soles of his boots were almost worn through. Just one more thing he’d have to buy.

He felt ashamed of himself. His boots had been going thin for a while, and instead of saving his coin and getting them repaired or just buying new ones, he’d drowned himself in drink, feeling sorry. Oh, he hadn’t known he would be making a trip up a mountain, but he needed boots regardless. No wonder Geralt had always been upset with him, he always put pleasure over sense, couldn’t even spend coin sensibly.

Couldn’t darn socks, couldn’t budget his coin, couldn’t shut up. A fool.

He stumbled on a tree root and nearly swore. Couldn’t even walk right. One of the blisters building on his foot had burst, he was sure. It was easy to tell, the pain had gone from a rubbing ache to stinging and warm. Only years of practice and performance kept him from interrupting the story.

Something must have shown on his face though, or his scent changed or whatever because Geralt was staring at him intently. That face, always so unreadable.

Jaskier wasn’t going to give him anything else to scowl about. He kept walking, keeping the story rolling and his voice light. His bones ached. He had to stop for just a moment when a button, long past hanging loosely on his doublet, finally pulled free. He picked it up and the head rush nearly took him to the ground. He’d eaten little, slept poorly, and the only food he’d had in a long time before this was ale. He blinked the grey from his vision, trying not to let the panic show when it didn’t go away as quickly as he’d have liked.

It was okay. It was all going to be okay. They’d make it to the village by nightfall. They wouldn’t sleep there of course but he could get proper food. Maybe even slip away and catch a quick nap in a stable or hayloft or something. His whole body was buzzing with a sort of exhausted energy and his heart was pounding.

Jaskier reflected that he hadn’t been well before meeting up with Geralt and his little family. He’d been sick with drink and heartache and had not enough food then too.

Smile through the pain.

This wasn’t even bad as performances could go. Once he’d actually broken a finger just before a set at Oxenfurt. Simple clumsiness, he’d closed his index finger in a door, but he’d played his whole set, with a perfect score from his professor.

It grew darker, the sun just setting when they reached a field at the edge of the town. It was a large open field and, in warmer months, it was likely home to fairs and large market days. Probably in these rural areas people traveled for a week to bring their goods and livestock to this town. It didn’t matter now, mid autumn settling into late autumn. To Jaskier the town was nameless.

They set up camp in the field. It left them exposed to being seen, but they hid themselves behind a small rise on the edge of the field, blocking them mostly from sight. Still, Geralt seemed on edge. Jaskier wasn’t sure it was about the camp. Geralt kept looking over at him with his eyebrows pressed together. Whenever he did that it formed this little crease right between his brows that Jaskier wanted to kiss away.

Jaskier bit his lip, hard, to focus on anything other than that.

The three of them sat, too tired to talk much more. Jaskier had finished most of the story and decided to leave the rest for the next day they were traveling a lot, to give Ciri something else to think about. She was definitely Calanthe’s blood. They traveled all day and she never complained, but also told them when she needed to stop, advocating for herself in no uncertain terms. It was the princess herself who interrupted his thoughts.

“You said you had a sister, do you have lots of siblings?”

“Not really,” Jaskier said, settling down on the ground and feeling his bones pop. His blisters were definitely bleeding inside his boots too. “Two older brothers, Henrik and Teodor, and I had a younger sister, Lotte.”

“Had?”

“She was sickly, always too small for her age,” Jaskier said quietly. “I learned the lute for her, at first. She liked music and was often bedridden. A fever took her when she was about your age.” Jaskier looked down at his battered boots.

“I’m sorry,” Ciri whispered.

“It’s allright little highness, it’s been almost thirty years now. Time flies.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” Geralt said. It was growly, but Geralt always used that tone.

“You never really asked.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Jaskier ate the last of the rations in his pack, waving away Ciri’s offerings and showing her his food as proof that he had some. It didn’t really settle the hunger that had been eating him from the inside out all day, but at this point he figured he could eat a mountain and still have room for dessert.

“Tomorrow,” Geralt said gruffly once dinner was cleared away. “We don’t all enter the town as a group. Yen and Ciri go together. I go alone. Jaskier goes alone.”

Jaskier nodded, so did Ciri and Yennefer.

“If we see eachother, act as though we don’t know eachother,” Geralt said, then he turned his gaze on Jaskier. “Don’t attract too much attention.”

Jaskier bristled at getting his own private reprimand. “I’m a bard, Geralt,” he said. “How am I supposed to earn coin if I don’t play.”

Geralt grunted. “I didn’t say don’t play just no... don’t do the whole...” he gestured a vauge hand.

“The whole...me?” Jaskier said sarcastically. He was pulling at the lion’s tail he knew, but he was in pain and tired and hungry and Geralt had no right to be so cruel.

“The whole bright colors, loud and annoying thing. Country bard, not court bard, got it?”

Loud and annoying.

“Got it,” Jaskier said, looking back down at his boots. He didn’t say that none of his clothes could have passed for courtly anymore anyway.

They set about getting ready for bed. Ciri gave him a quick hug before she and Yennefer disappeared into their magical tent. Jaskier sat and pulled off his boots, not letting a single flicker of pain show on his face. He knew Geralt would be able to smell blood, but Geralt had gone to get water from the nearby river. He had to peel his socks off and yes, there was blood there, by now stuck into the threadbare fabric. He let himself wince then. He rinsed off the wounds but he was without bandages, so he just dried off the area and put his other pair of socks on. He only had the two pairs anyway, but at least the blisters would stay dry.

He rolled himself into his bedroll and thought of tomorrow. At least there were no tree roots here.

The next day dawned slowly, instead of bright pinks and oranges it was a kind of runny yellow that just leeched into the sky before fading into early morning blue. Jaskier watched in admiration as Yennefer changed Geralt’s hair to short and dark, and then gave herself brown eyes and a slightly different bone structure. To look at both of them was odd, because Jaskier could see the similarities. Yennefer’s nose was changed and her cheekbones were a little different, but it was still her, and Geralt just looked like a different, although quite handsome, version of himself. Ciri was simply given mousy brown hair and some extra freckles.

Just like that, the perfect and all powerful family looked like two normal people and one witcher who was still clearly a witcher but not the white wolf. Jaskier shouldered his lute. He’d cleaned up the scruff he’d been growing into a more respectable look and with his longer hair and tatty cloak he looked like any poor traveling musician. If he’d traded the lute for a shortbow he could have looked like a woodsman, totally nondescript.

He was entering from a different direction, so as not to arouse suspicion, and so was Geralt. Jaskier began walking around, so that he could enter from the east. Yen and Ciri would walk into town the closest direction, and Geralt was entering from the west. This early, it was unlikely they would have been seen all together.

Jaskier made his way to the eastern edge of the town and walked in, scanning the streets. If this were a farm people would be up and awake long before now, farmers wake well before dawn, but this was a town, and so few people wandered the streets. Shop keepers were just beginning to open up. Jaskier bought a couple pears, slightly overripe but cheaper because of it, off of a fruit seller and had breakfast. He tried to lock into his mind all the shops around so he could find his supplies easiest later.

His mind was resisting him though. In spite of the softer ground, Jaskier had still slept badly last night. His body ached and he wished he could find somewhere warm to lay for an hour or two. Instead he found the well.

As wells should be, this one was right in the center of town. He set down his lute case beside it, tuned his lovely lady, and began to play.

In his very first few months after leaving Oxenfurt he had learned this trick, and used it often. If you get into a town early, play at the well. People get their water first thing in the morning and there you are.

A few young women with yokes and buckets smiled at him and he nodded in return. The day brightened a little further as the sun crept above the buildings and more people came to gather in the town square. They weren’t there to hear Jaskier, not at first, most of them came for water, or to chat with neighbors, or discuss business. Many of them gathered around him though.

Coins clattered into the case. Mostly coppers, but in a little town like this that was quite normal.

“As sweet Polly Oliver lay musing in bed, A sudden strange fancy came into her head. "Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove, I'll 'list as a soldier, and follow my love,” he sang.

“So early next morning she softly arose, And dressed herself up in her dead brother's clothes. She cut her hair close, and she stained her face brown, And went for a soldier to fair Rinde Town.”

Sweet Polly Oliver was one of his favorites, a simple country song about a girl and her lover in wartime. This town was far enough north that with luck Nilfgaard wouldn’t attack, but the anxiety threatened.

Jaskier gave a good performance, perhaps not his best, but he was tired and cold and the flagstones beneath his feet were very hard. He danced about, playing sweet folk songs and jigs and reels, delighting in the people who swept up and danced along. Still, though, he felt his feet bleeding inside his boots. He played from just after dawn until perhaps an hour after noon before bowing away and taking his coin.

He’d done better than he’d expected, but there wasn’t nearly enough coin for all the things he’d need for Kaer Morhen, and extra food to help Geralt and Ciri. He’d buy what he needed now, and they’d stop again in Ard Carraigh before the keep. He’d sell his lute there, it was a large city, and he’d get a good price. The thought still made him ache, though.

It wasn’t just his emotions causing him pain, he realised. The aches he’d been experiencing were in his chest lately, and both physical and emotional. He just needed more rest.

Jaskier slipped through back alleys and bent streets. He’d seen a stable on his way into town. He stepped in quietly, startling a stable hand, no more than a boy, who’d been quietly talking to a horse.

“You’re the bard,” he said. “Saw you in the square jus’ this morning.”

“That’s right,” Jaskier said, bowing a little. “I’m afraid I’ll be moving on this evening and--”

“And you want to have a kip in the stables,” said the boy. “Yeah lots o’ musicians and peddlers do that. Rule is though, I got to get a coin off ‘em first as payment. I’m sorry, but I get a beating if’n I don’t.”

“No worries,” Jaskier said, he’d expected as much. He handed the boy two copper coins. “There’s pay, won’t have you getting beaten for my sake, the second coin is to wake me in two hours.”

The boy gave him a lopsided grin. “You got it sir, thanks.”

Jaskier snuggled up in the hay loft. He’d often done it, it was pretty common, if you couldn’t buy a stay at an inn or especially if you just needed a ‘kip’ as the boy had said, during the day. He’d slept in haystacks once in a while on the road too. They were sort of comfortable and surprisingly warm and, best of all, robbers didn’t get you if you kept yourself mostly under the hay.

The scent of hay and oats and horses lulled him to sleep.

He dreamed about haystacks. For some reason Roach was in the haystack with him. Geralt and Ciri too, even Yennefer. It was a crowded haystack indeed, and it grew smaller and smaller until Jaskier had to leave it and sleep on the ground so that the others weren’t squished.

He awoke to the stable boy nudging him.

“Pardon me mister,” he said. “But it’s been two hours.”

Jaskier thanked him and brushed off his clothes.

The shops were doing a good trade this afternoon and he’d be sure to be a face in the crowd. He bought a small cooking pot and plenty of ground oats and barley for porridge at one shop. They were light to carry and owner packaged them nicely, first in one cheap, cloth drawstring bag, and then in another such bag, but with the drawstring on a different side, so he was unlikely to lose food.

In another stall he bought plenty of nuts, walnuts were cheap here and would keep well. Good for traveling and they had protein. Some dried jerky, dried peas, and dried lentils finished his food shopping, and also most of his coin.

It was three days to Ard Carraigh, another week to trek up to the keep. The food would sustain him for that long, and they’d probably just pool their food to make sure everyone was fed. Still, he wasn’t being a burden, not too much.

He couldn’t afford new boots, gloves, or a cloak right now, but with the last of his coin he bought a new pair of thick, warm socks, a small roll of bandages, and a couple pieces of candied ginger in a little paper twist. He tucked them all away and left the town, disappearing back to the field and their little camp well before the sun set.

Jaskier’s heart sunk to see that he was the last to arrive. Everything was packed up, they couldn’t risk staying in the same place two nights in a row. Geralt grunted at him, but didn’t unleash any thoughts on Jaskier being a burden, so he counted himself lucky.

He hung his head a little at having delayed their parting and trekked after the perfect little family, his pack much heavier than it had been. Ciri slid her hand into his and they walked on in silence. The hand was nice though.

In an odd way, it hurt, too. He wasn’t part of the family, so he didn’t really deserve this, but it was painfully good to have just a taste of being wanted.

What would happen, he wondered, when the winter was over. He was a danger to Geralt and Ciri if Nilfgaard found him. He wasn’t wanted by Geralt at all. Jaskier was reminded once again that it would be so much easier for Geralt to kill him, or for Yennefer to wipe his memory. Maybe he could fake his death to get Nilfgaard of his trail.

“Jaskier?” Ciri asked. “How did you become a bard?”

Jaskier looked down at her, maudlin thoughts interuppted. “Oh, well, it’s not as though you have to register, you just become one. Walking into an inn and saying ‘let me play for you pretty please I need food’ is a good start.”

“No,” Ciri giggled. “I meant, you said you learned the lute for your sister, but you write your own music and stuff too.”

“Oh, well, anyone can write music if they have an instrument and a good enough memory,” Jaskier said. “Indeed, many of the greatest bards had little education at all, I, however, studied at Oxenfurt.”

“Did you like it?”

“Sometimes. It was school, and some parts were dull but I learned much.”

“I heard some of the maids giggling once about a young scholar who’d come to stay with us,” Ciri said, matter of factly. “He was always in the library and was kind of snooty with me when I asked questions, but the maids were saying he certainly had a lot of ‘carnal knowledge’. Did you study that too?”

Jaskier was choking on thin air.

“I, um, no it was more of a hobby,” Jaskier said before his head could catch up with his mouth. “Little Highness, I suspect you weren’t supposed to hear that conversation, and no, I studied the seven liberal arts.”

“So it was about sex, I was never sure,” Ciri said.

Jaskier coughed awkwardly. “Yes, princess.”

“It’s okay, I know about that stuff, Grandmother explained it.”

Jaskier let out a breath, at least he wouldn’t have to be the one to explain anything to her.

“When you went to school were you scared to leave your family?” Ciri asked.

“No, pet, I was excited to go,” he wasn’t about to get into all his trauma with her, she had enough of her own, poor thing. “I couldn’t wait to learn about music and poetry.”

“Grandmother said all poets were silly romantics and dreamers, but I think that sounds nice. Do you have a moose?”

“A what?”

“I read it in a book, a moose, somebody you love and you write about it.”

“Oh, that’s one of the trickier words Ciri, it’s said ‘muse’, and yes, I had one or two.”

“Only one or two? In the book the poet had hundreds,” Ciri sounded almost disappointed.

“I only ever needed one,” Jaskier said quietly. “One that mattered anyway.”

“And your Countess still left you,” Geralt said, rather coldly. He was doing his annoyed face and Jaskier could have kicked himself. He’d been talking too much. The reminder that the Countess de Stael had left him too hurt, but Jaskier wasn’t going to risk Geralt’s ire to say that she wasn’t the muse he was talking about. That was maybe something he should keep to himself.

“Do muses often leave?” Ciri asked, wide eyed. “If somebody was writing me poetry I wouldn’t want to.”

“No, usually the poet does the leaving,” Jaskier said. “After his muse asks him to go. There’s a shelf life on a bard, you know. We only have so many stories and songs before we’re used up and no one wants us around anymore. That’s when we move along.”

“I’ll hear your stories again and again,” Ciri said. “I won’t ask you to go.”

Jaskier’s heart curled up and whimpered inside his chest. He’d have to go sooner or later, he’d have to leave her. Geralt would get sick of him, too sick to bear even for Ciri’s sake. Or Jaskier would just have to leave of his own volition, lest he shovel shit into her life too.

If he could give her life one blessing...

“This’ll do for a campsite,” Geralt said. It was a tiny, clear area. Jaskier almost groaned. It was surrounded by oak trees, with dropped acorns that would dig into his bedroll and mottle his back with bruises come morning. He’d had a good rest in town, though, so another bad night of sleep wouldn’t be too bad, he told himself.

The others had eaten in town. Jaskier said he had too, so he wouldn’t waste rations. He had plenty, but strangely, he wasn’t so hungry lately. Anyway, always best to save.

He pulled off his boots and his freshly bloodied socks. Ew. Ciri retired to the magic tent early, exhausted from their long days of walking. Jaskier listened to Yennefer and Geralt talk.

“We’ll need lots of supplies in Ard Carraigh,” Geralt was saying.

“We don’t have any money,” Yennefer replied.

Jaskier had his back to them as he cleaned the wounds on his feet, but he could picture grave expressions.

“We’ll get some, I’ll do a quick contract there, something. We’ll need a cart and pony to get Ciri up The Killer, it’s too much for her, it’s too hard for some witchers even.”

“That’ll cost,” Yennefer said. “But you’re right. I wish I could portal us but--”

“Tracking, exactly. There’s always plenty of contracts in cities, it’ll be fine.”

Jaskier looked at the blisters on his foot, they’d opened more with his long performance that day. It was no matter, he wound the bandages around them and put on his new, thick socks. At least his feet would be warm.

Not too warm, though. He spotted a hole in the bottom of his boot that he hadn’t noticed before.

And they needed lots of money for Ard Carraigh. No matter. He knew how to get some.

He pretended his eyes filled with tears from the pain of blisters, not from heartache, as he pushed his feet back into his boots and opened the lute case. He pulled out his beautiful girl. He wouldn’t play her, it would annoy Geralt. He’d always hated Jaskier’s music, although he hated to hear Jaskier sing even more.

Pie with no filling.

Jaskier wished he could play her, though. It was going to break his heart to part with her, and he didn’t think he’d ever played another instrument as fine. If he could, he’d play her every second until he had to sell her.

Probably for the best, though, if he was going to fake his death. She was distinctive.

He brushed a hand over the beautiful wood work on her front. There was a little bit of linseed oil left, and he poured it on the rag he kept in the case and began to work over his girl lovingly. His eyes teared up again, but he fought it back. He would have smashed his lute if it meant helping Ciri. And Geralt.

Jaskier longed for Geralt to forgive him, to take him back and let him stay by his side, but he’d meant what he’d said, bards have a shelf life, and Jaskier’s time was up.

He wished Geralt would at least speak with him, though. His heart was aching. In a completely different sense, so was his chest.

“Play us a tune, bard,” Yennefer said.

Jaskier turned around. Yen and Geralt were sitting beside eachother, close together. She looked so beautiful in her fine cloak that Jaskier wondered how he ever thought he could catch Geralt’s eye when beings like her existed.

“You know,” he said. “It’s late and I wouldn’t want to bother Ciri.”

“Tent’s soundproof,” Yennefer said, waving her hand.

“I mean, really,” Jaskier protested weakly. Disobeying Yennefer’s request/command was like bathing your brain in lava, but Geralt was looking angry again. Some would say there wasn’t much change from Geralt’s normal expression, but Jaskier knew his face better than he knew his own. Something had made Geralt angry or upset. The only possible answer was Jaskier. It was always Jaskier.

“Play us a song, bard,” Yennefer said. “You’ve been so quiet other than stories, I’d almost think you were a doppler, Melitele knows no one could have taught you to shut up.”

Jaskier swallowed the lump in his throat.

He began, slowly, to pick out a gently tune on his lute. It was a song about winter and home, and he knew the lyrics well. Yennefer had only asked him to play, so he would. His music was at least less offensive than his voice.

He reveled in the feel of his lute beneath his fingers, letting the feeling wash over him, committing it to memory.

When he was finished Yennefer said, “I suppose your voice was tired from your performance, I heard in the town how the bard had played such a long set.”

Jaskier smiled grimly back at her. “Just earning my keep.”

He went to bed, feeling the cold seep into his bones.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List!

@frywen-babbles @mordoriscalling @thedarkestangel1 @kerfufflezz @live-long-and-trek-on @holymotherwolf @gryffinqueen

@samukai @charlies-dragon I can’t seem to tag, but they’re on the list

#geraksier #adhd Jaskier #the witcher #angst #jaskier #geralt #yennefer #ciri #platonic yennalt #yennefer is a good mom #and deserves nice things #kaer morhen #soon but not yet #emotional hurt/comfort #just hurt now #the comfort is yet to come

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puppypopcornpizza · 3 years ago

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OC Questionnaire

big thanks to @oxygenforthewicked for the tag <3

tagging @nothisis-ridiculous @starsandskies @felan-daris @alyssalenko @citadelsushi @poppyfrittes and whoever else would like to, no pressure

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Aedra Lavellan

Role in story: Main character, though with everyone else she just considers herself there

Physical description: Long curly platinum blonde hair, usually half up half down. Lanky but more built in the arms and shoulders bc mage but she also trains with swords at times. Mythal vallaslin that carries on down her chest and ribcage, green to match her eyes. Lots of scars from battle and being stupid.

Age: 24-27 in Inquisition

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

ENFP Type Description: Someone with the Extraverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Prospecting personality traits. These people tend to embrace big ideas and actions that reflect their sense of hope and goodwill toward others. Their vibrant energy can flow in many directions.

Type 7w8 Description: “They tend to be enthusiastic, determined, and protective in their behavior. They are generally more tough and work-oriented than other seven types.”

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

Being alone, lack of control, spiders. The basics.

Inner motivation

Survival and protection.

Kryptonite

I think just loss as a whole. She has this ‘I need to save everyone’ mindset and she will fight until she can’t stand to make sure everyone gets out.

What is their misbelief about the world?

That good people will always be good and bad will always be bad. I like to think she grows out of it pretty fast during her first few months in the Inquisition, it’s just easier to look at things in black and white. (yes i’m still heavy into my mass effect playthrough and i definitely think garrus’ “i dont know what to do with grey” line would apply)

Lesson they need to learn

Not everyone is gonna make it out peachy

What is the best thing in their life?

Definitely the people in her life, they’re her security and comfort.

What is the worst thing in their life?

She is - a lot of the time actually. Not intentionally, she just has a tendency of making decisions before she’s had time to consider them.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Very pompous “i know more than you therefore i’m better” behaviour. She didn’t really get on so well with Viv and Solas in the beginning bc of this.

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Company, chatter in the background. Just being around loved ones.

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

She’s not particularly good at voicing her emotions in a healthy way, so small acts of understanding make her heart swell. Things like still chatting to her when she’s low on social energy bc they know she’s listening or just being in her company. She’s very much a people person and she makes this known.

Friends like Varric or Dorian, the type that like the sound of their own voice help a lot. Cullen helps for quiet nights when she can’t quite keep up the talkative, happy façade.

Top three things they value most in life?

Light-heartedness, softer moments like above, smiles and laughter

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

She didn’t really keep anything from the Clan, it wasn’t particularly the life for her. Cullen’s coin is definitely one, (i just haven’t thought about how she wears it.)

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

Her casual usually has people mistaking her for the help at Skyhold. Half up half down hair on colder days, a bun when it’s warmer. Sometimes a braid but usually not. Loose cotton tunics tucked into high waisted leather pants with knee length boots. Sometimes she’ll have some sort of coat over if the weather’s unbearable but she prefers movement and she likes keeping busy so cold isn’t a particular issue.

Her armour’s the same, mobility is very important to her so leather armour is her go-to. Leather coat with a metal chest piece and fabric wrapped around her waist, partially cosmetic yes. A lot of straps everywhere with pouches for lyrium and ingredients, etc.

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life?

Varric dubbed her Songbird for obvious reason.

What is their method of manipulation?

She prefers being direct, or avoiding the situation completely.

Describe their daily routine

Wake up, dawdle the barracks before breakfast - with Varric usually. Catch up with the rest of the lot, spend way too long in the war room arguing about bridges. Steal a kiss from Cullen sometime before dinner. Miss dinner, raid the larder at midnight and take everything to Cullen’s office because he also missed dinner. Help him with a nightmare or tell him to go to bed because he’s probably working, Fall asleep way too late.

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

Wicked Grace at the tavern, chatter and laughter flowing.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

I don’t think she’s ever dissatisfied, it’s more so confusion like how in the Maker’s name did I end up here.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Towards the end of Trespasser, it would definitely just be peace. The ability to go as she pleases without the weight of everything on her shoulders.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

I guess quit being the Inquisitor and move to the country side but that kind of already happened? I dont know I don’t think she could ever really get peace, just a calm before the storm.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

It’s not fear, she just doesn’t have the control to make everything stop going wrong in Thedas every two seconds.

Do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

If she simply chose to ignore everything, yes.

#this was so long but really fun #aedra's literally me this poor woman im so sorry #aedra lavellan #tag

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imaginethatneathuh · 4 years ago

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Winter is Beautiful: Technical Boy - American Gods

I had to cut this in half because Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all as one.

Partially inspired by one of @random-imagines-blog Technical Boy posts.

Done for @atomicdetectivehideout‘s December challenge (yes, I know I’m a day late, shut up).

I’m not good at romance.

Fluff.

Word count: 4.4K+

Second Part

You smiled at the trees, barren and lifeless, all except the pines.

The pines were strong and sturdy. That beautiful pine green, even in the dead of winter. A faint hint of brown spiked the otherwise green needles. A sign of Death and Disease knocking on the trees' door.

The faint sound of Winter-ready birds hung in the air. Their song, even compared to the sunset, was something to behold. The rustle of the trees as the birds flew between the branches reminded you of days long past.

You inhaled the cold, country, Winter air. As you breathed out, a puff of smoke spread out. The warmth of your breath soon dissipated as the frozen air overtook it. dissipating. You smiled, satisfied.

The cool, pale yellows, blues, and pinks of the sunset waltzed across the sky. Not even the chilly air, which was sure to get worse, could dissuade you from spending time that night under the stars, especially on a night like tonight.

While the alignment of Jupiter and Saturn was not the main focus, it certainly helped to convince Technical Boy to come along. It was a "Once every 800 years" kind of event. Something that he would never get the chance to see again.

It had taken forever to get the tech god to agree. You hadn't expected anything less. He was him, but you were also you. Both equally stubborn in your own ways.

Speaking of the devil, the young god stood beside you, wrapped in far too many layers.

A beanie donned his head, along with a scarf, gloves, a Winter coat with two sweaters underneath (both of which you hadn’t the chance to see), a pair of jeans, snow pants, and winter boots.

It was beyond excessive in your eyes.

"You don't need all of those, T," you said. "You'll be fine."

He scoffed. Both of his hands wrapped around his upper arms, rubbing them.

"Like Hell," he mumbled teeth chattering.

How he could still be cold with all those layers was a mystery to you.

A blanket hung over your shoulder as you looked back at him.

"Let's just go."

"Home?" He asked, perking up a little.

"No, to the meadow."

Technical Boy groaned as he walked after you stiffly, following as closely behind as he could. The thick snow pants on top of jeans were hard to walk with.

Sure, the snow was a little high, but no higher than it usually was here around the Solstice.

A part of you wanted to grab his hand, just to hold it, but you thought better of it.

It wouldn’t be like it was the first time you’d held hands. The two of you had done it a thousand times. Okay, maybe that’s an over-exaggeration, but the point still remains; it wasn’t a big deal. Well, it shouldn’t be a big deal.

So, why not just take his hand?

Maybe because in the last few months, how you felt about him changed. When he smiled at you; or even just looked in your direction, it was like the world stopped moving. Your heart raced when he touched you. At times, you thought he could hear your heart pounding in your chest, especially when the two of you would lie together and cuddle. When he’d ‘Hmm?’ when you said something to him, your heart would turn to goop. When he joked with you, you laughed harder than usual. Even just being around him made you feel this warmth deep inside. This feeling of being known without thinking he’d shame you for anything. It was slightly addicting but in a good way.

And as much as there had been a change in you, maybe there had been a slight change in him, too. Sometimes, when you stayed over at his place, he’d offer you his clothes if you wanted to take a shower. That way you wouldn’t have to wear dirty clothes after getting clean. That’s the excuse he always used anyway. There were times when he stayed at your place where he’d get all nervous about sleeping in the same bed together, even though you’d done it before, and he hadn’t had a problem then. He showed you affection and kindness and rarely said anything bad or rude about/to your family. He was kinder and sweeter now, less of a cat, more of a dog.

You also noticed things about him that you hadn’t before. Like the way he’d look at you with that big, goofy, adorable smile and how his eyes would shine brighter than the sun, the moon, and all of the stars when he saw you. Or how any time he hugged you, he would nuzzle into your neck and hang on for a little longer than most people. There were the times when Technical Boy would get hyper-focused on something and zone out. He looked adorable every time.

But there were also things you think you looked too much into. Like the little surprise visits and gifts he gave felt like more than what a friend would do. Before, you’d never noticed how much he’d look at you or how much more playful he was around you than most people. Of course, you’d never let yourself hope for more. He was a god, after all.

•

The two of you trudged through the snow as the sun set ahead of you. The pale colours of the evening gave way to the rich, dark blue of the night. Stars twinkling like diamonds suspended high in the sky.

For a moment, you thought you'd have to start pulling Technical Boy along. Thankfully, he kept up, even with all the layers.

"I was not built for the cold, Y/N,” he said.

You forged ahead. Trying (and failing) to suppress a smile, you looked behind you before turning back front.

"You're not used to the cold, that's all."

He whimpered, dashing to get back to your side. It was warmer than when he was by himself.

"How 'bout we just go back, yeah? Go back to the cabin? Where it's warm."

Stopping in the snow, letting it soak into your jeans, you faced him.

"If it bothers you that much, you can go back, but I'm not."

You didn't want him to go. He was the reason you wanted to come out here tonight in the first place. It wouldn't be right without him. Besides, two bodies are warmer than one.

Technical Boy looked between the warmth of the cabin that he so badly craved and you, the reason he was willingly out here, freezing his arse off.

Eventually, he chose to follow you, stepping to your side.

The snow flew up with every step. Some of it was packed beneath his boots, other bits stuck on them, but at least he wasn’t being drenched by it.

•

As you got to a fenced-in field, a smile spread across your face.

It was almost entirely dark now. The last vestiges of light from the sun were blinking out, disappearing behind the horizon. The stars and the half-moon became your only guide.

You giggled and looked behind you, still smiling widely.

"Come on," you said, offering your hand to Technical Boy.

He stayed where he was, a worried look on his face.

Your hand fell as you sighed.

"Really, T?"

The god shuffled backwards.

The low, barbed-wire fencing stood between you and your favourite place in the world. Besides maybe with Technical Boy.

Near an old, what you assumed to be, power box lay a dip in the fencing. The fencing had been bent and broken years ago, long before you ever came to the meadow.

Using one of the old, wooden posts the wire was wrapped around, you hopped over.

Breathing deeply, you face away from the dirt road and to the pure, untouched snow of the pasture. Your eyes closed as the wind whipped by.

Technical Boy whined behind you, reminding you of a puppy who wanted attention.

You turned to face him, a renewed light inside you.

"Come on, don't be a wuss," you said. "It's just a fence."

He looked at the fencing, then at you, bouncing side to side.

"Fine, be a wuss, but I'm going to enjoy the pasture."

You twisted back to the snowy, rolling hills far away.

"I'm not a wuss," he said.

You looked over your shoulder with a smirk and said, "Prove it then."

Technical Boy, scowling, glared at the fencing and stepped forward.

“Do we really have to do this? I mean, it’s fucking freezing out here. Not to mention, it’s really stupid. There are apps made for stargazing for crying out loud! We can stargaze where it’s warm, believe it or not,” he complained.

While his point about the apps was fair, the app could never capture the beauty of watching the stars with the naked eye.

"T," you tease in a singsong voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm coming." Technical Boy gripped the post you did when you hopped over. "Don't rush me."

"The sun has already set. We don't have time for this."

That wasn’t true. The stars would be there for hours to come, but you had to get him moving somehow.

With another small whine and some mental encouragement, the god hopped over. Now on the same side as you, he backed away from the fence, facing it.

He turned to you lethargically like he was bored, and glared at you.

“Great, I’m over here. Now what?”

Unable to resist, you snickered.

“What?”

You shrugged.

“Nothing, you just sound really fucking bored. I can’t combine that with the shivering you. It just doesn’t work in my head.”

He rolled his eyes and walked toward you.

“Whatever,” he said before rubbing his hands together and breathing into them.

You wiped your freezing nose with your equally cold hand, sniffing.

Eyebrows furrowed, Technical Boy took off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to your cheek.

You tried to bat it away, but he ignored it.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you're freezing," he worries. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You pushed him away slightly, his hands drifting to your upper arms.

"It's nothing I haven't handled before."

"Come here," he said.

He shed his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. Taking his scarf off, he coiled it around your neck, tucking it over your nose sweetly. You giggled as he moved his hands to grasp yours.

"You feel like ice," he comments.

You shook your head, a smile plastered on your face.

"I'm fine, T. Let's just enjoy the night."

"What if you get sick!"

You sighed.

"I'm not going to get sick."

"That's what they all say," he said, pulling you close. "But then starts the sniffling and the coughing and sneezing. Not to mention the fever!"

You laughed at him. Pushing away, you took off and wrapped the scarf back around Technical Boy's neck. You glanced down to hide your giggles, but you’re greeted by a peculiar sight.

Covering your mouth, you stared at his chest.

He looked down at his sweater.

"What?"

"I can't believe you're wearing that."

He pulled it down, pouting.

"Your mother gave it to me. Plus, it's also almost Christmas. I thought it was festive."

You burst out laughing.

The ugly Rudolph the Reindeer sweater looked so stupid on him, you just couldn't help it.

"Y/N, don't be mean. I'm sure it took her forever to find one this ugly."

You kept laughing and pulled him into a hug, burying your head into his neck.

"I love you, you dumbass," you said, pushing away.

He smiled at you.

"I love you, too."

It may have been from the cold and wind, but you could have sworn there was a hint of pink on his cheeks.

You handed him back his coat.

"No, Y/N, you need it."

Instead of taking no for an answer, you tossed it onto his face.

As it fell off, Technical Boy caught it and gave you a look. The "done with your bullshit" look he often gave.

You just smiled over your shoulder and laid down the blanket over the snow.

•

The two of you stared up at the sky. For the first time since you managed to pull Technical Boy out here, it was quiet. Save for the wind rustling the branches and the coyotes howling far off in the distance. Some might be afraid of them, but not you. They were comforting. Familiar really.

Taking a deep breath, you could smell the clean snow. It was like water but cooler. As you'd expect from ice.

So enraptured by the peace, you hadn't noticed Tech staring at you with one of those rare, soft smiles on his face.

"Why'd you bring me out here," he asked.

Breaking from the serenity, you turned to look at him. His face fairer than usual because of the light reflecting off the snow from the half-moon.

"I wanted to stargaze with you."

Technical Boy nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. Keyword is "seemingly".

"Okay," he said, turning back to the sky, a pink hint to his cold cheeks. "But you never bring anyone out here. Not home, not to the cabin, and definitely not here. You only ever talk about this place like it’s a far-off memory. You don't even take the animals out here."

You sighed.

The stars glittered with the glowing moon.

"It's my quiet place," you said. "Where I go when I'm not really there. When all else fails, I can always come here." Looking at the sky, you smiled. "It's the most important place in the world to me. I guess, I just wanted to share that with you." You looked down and rubbed your arm.

Technical Boy let a smile spread across his face.

Cupping your cheek, he guided you to face him.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said. "I mean it."

You smiled back.

Technical Boy wrapped an arm around you and laid his head on your shoulder.

You watched the stars, Jupiter and Saturn's alignment shining amongst them.

#american gods december challenge #technical boy #american gods #fanfiction #bruce langley #american gods fanfiction #god of technology #god of the internet #new gods #tech boy #romantic #technical boy x reader

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trojantoast · 4 years ago

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Cold is the Night (Day One: Reunion)

Zutara Week 2020

@zutaraweek

AO3

“Once he's gazed upon her, a man is forever changed

The bravest men return with darkened hearts and phantom pain

Ages come and go, but her life goes on the same

She lives to see the sun and feel the wind and drink the rain

Her colors change to mark the passing of the days

No Earthly sight can match the beauty she displays

And when I die I want her lying by my side

In my grave, in my grave”

- La Belle Fleur Sauvage (Lord Huron)

___

The arctic wind was bitter cold, but the sight of the Southern Water Tribe as he rounded the iceberg filled him with warmth. Unlike its northern sister, with its white, impenetrable walls. Only a wide harbor filled with ships and sea birds, separated the frigid ocean from the village.

No great citadel greeted him, no sparkling palace. Yet, it was not the same tribe as years past. Gone were the huts and animal skin tents. A broad path in the snow led from the port to a neat cluster of igloos nestled at the snow covered foot of the mountains, cradled by a low wall. The only permanent settlement was the low rotunda of sculpted ice and snow that crowned the village. The home of the Southern Tribe winked with fire light in the eternal dawn.

Fire Lord Zuko breathed in the crisp, familiar scent of brine and metallic snow, as his cruiser dropped anchor in the harbor. In minutes his motor boat reached the shore, and his breath of fire was the only thing keeping him from shivering right out of his parka. Summer or not, Zuko was chilled to the bone.

Three figures greeted him on the docks of ice. All were male, tall and broad. One broke away and as he grew closer his voice carried over the arctic wind, until he was only a few feet away.

“Gran Gran will be happy to see you wearing the parka she made you, though… the matching toboggan seems to be missing.”

Zuko smiled as he was enveloped into an embrace, “Hello, to you too, Sokka.”

The warrior gave him a quick squeeze and pulled back, his characteristic grin plastered on his face. Zuko looked down at his previously mentioned navy blue parka. It was cut in the Fire Nation style, and lined with white fur. “Well, I couldn't refuse a gift from a foreign dignitary, especially one that was handmade for me.”

“Certainly not, parkas of that quality can take an entire winter to hand stitch. To have one made for you is a declaration of trust and allyship, sacred to our tribe.” Zuko looked up to the second Warrior, taller than Sokka, but narrower in the shoulders. The firebender bowed formally,

“General Bato,”

There was a bark of laughter, and the third man joined the group, “General... that’s a good one.”

The tall warrior rolled his eyes, “What would you prefer, Hakoda, ‘Igloo-maker in Chief’?”

The leader of the southern Water Tribe threw his arm around the warriors shoulders and smiled, “As long as it's not my igloo.”

There was another round of chuckles, and Hakoda grasped Zuko’s forearm in a formal greeting.

“You really should take care of that parka. Bato’s not kidding, they do take all winter and you know how long those are around here.”

“I’ll be sure to express my gratitude to Kanna when I see her.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hakoda smiled softly, but his eyes turned more earnest, and he placed a strong hand on Zuko’s shoulder. The Fire Lord’s guards didn't even flinch. Snow swirled absentmindedly around the group in the moments before the chief spoke, “I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Zuko nodded, his hand dipping unconsciously into the pocket of his parka, “yes, we do.”

___

Talking could wait, apparently, as Zuko and the rest of his crew were loaded up into sleds (recently reintroduced to the tribe's way of life, after they finally had enough food to feed arctic dogs as well as themselves) and taken to the village. It was bigger up close, but barely larger than the smallest of villages in his home country. Children trailed after them, and Zuko smiled as Captain Jee sent little spirals of sparks, like fireworks, towards their awed faces.

Sokka was giving him a very speedy tour, pointing out new landmarks and trying to explain who lived in what igloo, before they passed by in a shower of kicked up snow. The main gathering building of the tribe was circular and sprawling. Multiple branches and bubbles of different rooms peaked out of the drifts of snow. The ship's crew was taken to the temporary barracks to get cleaned up before the feast that the tribe's women had prepared. Zuko was led to the guest house he usually occupied on his visits.

Zuko tried to refuse any big ta-do about his arrival. It wasn't even an official visit. He knew that even if the tribe was quickly bouncing back after the war, that there wasn't much food to spare. However, the tribe members had been insistent, and he couldn't really argue.

He followed Sokka around the backside of the rotunda to the igloos and huts that Chief Hakoda’s family and visitors used.

He tried not to let his eyes drift to the home nestled between his and the chief’s. It’s doorway was dark, no smoke curled from its chimney, and from the snow drifted against the door, it had not been entered in a while.

That’s a good thing, he said to himself.

He wasn’t very convincing.

“You know, I'm surprised you haven't asked about her yet.”

Zuko stilled at the door of his igloo, a now familiar place. He let his eyes linger on the other home.

“I know she’s not here, and that’s how I wanted it to be, so…” he trailed off.

“What has it been? Six months?” Sokka continued past him carrying Zuko’s trunk with little effort. He set it down by the large cot and bed roll. Zuko sighed and followed suit. The space was immediately warmer than the outside air. The curtain of a door settled behind him.

“Seven… and three quarters.” He grabbed a tea kettle and set it on the small cooking fire at the center of the single room house. Sokka plopped down on the cushions around the pit, arranging them so he could comfortable lounge back.

“Hey, I haven't seen Suki in almost five months. I mean,” there was a grunt as Sokka removed his boots, “It's not quite the same, since me and Suki are technically married and you guys…” Sokka seemed to struggle for the right thing to say. In the meantime Zuko removed his own boots and parka, which had grown hot, and ran a hand through his unbound hair. He had kept it roughly the same length for the past five years.

“We agreed that this was the best thing for everyone. Katara’s where she's needed, and so am I.” Sokka raised a critical brow, but just shrugged.

“And, I'm sure your visit here has nothing to do with ‘being where you're needed’” Zuko shot him a withering look. Sokka had the decency to look sheepish.

“Hey,” the warrior raised his hands in surrender, “I only speaking the truth.”

Zuko wasn’t quite ready to face the truth.

He wasn’t ready, because the truth frightened him. It kept him up at night. It made him lose focus in meetings and it made him count the days between every time he saw her. He knew the truth, and he didn’t want to hear it.

“Well, buddy, I’m just glad you’re here.”

Zuko looked up from inspecting the tea pot, and smiled, ever so slightly,

“Me too.”

___

The meal was no feast or ball, but the entire village gathered in the largest and center-most room of the rotunda. The tribe’s numbers, with it’s warriors returned, and half a decade of peace, had grown to nearly 200. Yet, the room didn’t seem cramped as everyone piled onto cushions around low dining tables. Even when Zuko’s crew and personal guards (who where only there on principle, Zuko had never felt safer than among the Southern Water Tribe), joined the company, the crowded space felt comfortable and warm.

Zuko had been placed in the seat of honor, at the left hand of chief Hakoda, and the right hand of Kanna, the chief's mother, and the village’s elder. As per tradition, the youngest of the group and the unmarried women served the rest of the tribe before eating. Sokka told him once, that the action was to reinforce loyalty and represent how they serve their tribe first, until they marry, or become adults.

The food was traditional water tribe cuisine, made by collective effort of the women, both married and unmarried, of the tribe.

Platters of roasted fish, and savory rein-caribou meat was served, alongside various stews and cooked greens. sea prunes, clams, and other crustaceans were also distributed. The food, like the tribe who made it, was hearty. It was salty, and fatty, and so unlike the hot spices and complicated recipes of his Zuko’s homeland. The Fire Lord hadn’t had a meal as delicious in a long time.

The room was filled with chattering voices and laughing children, muffled by the animal pelts and cushions they all lounged on. Everyone had striped their outer clothes off, and the parkas joined the piles of furs surrounding the group. People moved from table to table, catching up on the day's activities and trading jokes and stories. The older warriors took special interest in comparing notes with his crew on sailing techniques. Every member of the tribe, from the oldest widow, to the mother’s with their tiny babies, came to Zuko’s table and greeted him formally. Zuko gave them a warriors handshake or a bow, according to their age. Some of the children brought him tiny, crude, carvings of bone, made in the shapes of animals or people. In return, he bestowed a carefully wrapped cake from the satchel at his side into their tiny hands. The pastries were crunchy on the outside and impossibly soft on the inside; shaped like lotus flowers. They were straight from the royal kitchens, and Zuko pretended not to notice when they came back for seconds.

Zuko barely had time to eat the food that had been piled onto his plate, between greeting the tribe, and joining into the discussions at his own table, but he made do.

“So, young man,” Zuko turned from giving a little girl her third pastry, to Kanna. The older woman had finished her bowl of stew, and was now working on the delicate and complex embroidery on a deep blue parka. “What is it you plan to do with all those carvings the children are giving you?”

Zuko smiled, and turned to look at the small army of animals he had absentmindedly arranged in rows next to his table setting.

“I’ll probably put them with the others. I have a glass bureau in my office that holds some of the gifts I’ve received from other dignitaries. The children’s carvings have their own shelf.” The carvings had become a sort of tradition every time he came to visit.

She chuckled, it was a rumbling, gravelly sound, “I can’t imagine these next to the rich items you must get.”

Zuko picked up the carving closest to him. It was a black wolf-whale. The little boy who had given it to him, had charred the bone to mimic the pattern of black and white splotches of the animal in real life.

“Yeah, but these are my favorite.”

He ran his hands along the upright fin on its back.

Kanna smiled quietly to herself and returned to her embroidery.

Slowly, as the night went on, the children grew tired, and their parents bid last goodbyes to the members of Zuko’s table. And as the kids were rebundled up and carried, sleepily, back to their own homes, the rest of the village filed out as well. The younger men and women left in groups, or pairs, laughing heartily together, to spend time among themselves. The widows and widowed warriors bore their own farewells. Soon, even the village elders grew sore of sitting and talking and eating, and went their own ways, wishing the guidance and protection of the spirits in the dreams of their chief, his family, and the Fire Lord.

The dishes had been cleared away much earlier in the night, so when Hakoda led them into a hall toward a small study, they left the gathering room quiet and empty.

Zuko rose from his seat, and extended his elbow to Kanna, who excepted it with a pat to his for arm and a smile.

“Such good manners.” She praised. Zuko felt himself blush.

The adjacent room was furnished with low couches and a stone fireplace that peaked out of the white ice walls. More thick pelts lined the floor. Zuko recognized the large maple shelves and desk as those he gifted Hakoda himself, made of the finest Fire Nation lumber.

Sokka, Kanna, Bato, and Zuko all settled into the couches, as the Chief pulled out a dark blue glass bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk. He poured each member of the group a drink of the clear liquid, before he sat another one of the couches, instead of his high backed desk chair.

Zuko took a sip, and tried not to wince as the alcohol burned his throat. Immediately, he was warmer than before. He watched the others. Zuko knew what was coming.

Hakoda took a very slow sip of his drink, and turned to the firebender.

“I’m assuming you didn't sail all the way down to the South Pole to take in the scenery.”

Zuko swallowed, as they all turned their attention to him.

“No, no I didn't.” he took another drink, stealing his nerves, then placed the glass down.

“Me and Katara have discussed it, at length.” Zuko found that Kanna’s stare was level and calm, he felt reassured. “She thinks it’s the best thing for us, and I agree.” Zuko looked around the room.

“We want, no… we're going to get married.”

Zuko didn’t know what reaction he would receive. He had been obsessing over what Katara’s family would say, what they would do, since the idea of marriage first entered his mind. He expected it would involve being forcefully thrown into the arctic ocean. The sensible part of his mind knew there was nothing to worry about, since almost immediately after him and Katara had announced their courtship her family, and her tribe, had taken him in as one of their own (Bato had even teased them about step-grand children). Yet, the other voice in his head still haunted him with fears of rejection. But, Hakoda only sat up, placed his glass down, looked into Zuko’s eyes, and waited for him to continue.

So Zuko did.

“We know that it’s not going to be easy. We know that it will be dangerous. We know that we each have responsibilities and duties, and I respect hers and she respects mine. We’ve been considering it for a while now, and it's what we both want. I know that relations between my nation and yours, are...tense, but they're getting better, and there's people where I’m from that won’t like it, but I think that together, we can show that the four nations can coexist and that the Fire Nation cares about reperatio-”

Hakoda held up a hand, Zuko went silent, he swallowed again.

The chief looked deep into his eyes, Zuko didn't break the contact.

“I don’t care what your union means politically. I don’t care what message it will send to the other nations, what message it will send for your people, son. I just want to know one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Do you love her?”

Immediately, he answered, “Yes,” his hand settled on his chest, between his two lungs, where he knew the scar sat, “with all my heart.”

Zuko looked around the room, each pair of bright blue eyes were fixed on him.

“I don’t know when I started to, maybe it was the day of the comet, maybe before, maybe after, but when I asked her to come with me to fight my sister and regain my throne, I knew it had to be her that came. I love Katara, but before that, I trust her. I trust her with my life. I trust her with my people and my country. I would die for her.”

Zuko felt it then, the ghost of the pain, the exhilaration, the fear as he watched Azula take aim. “Taking that lightning was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I would do it again, ten thousand times over.”

Bato spoke next, “And she feels the same way?”

Zuko thought, for a second, replaying the last five years in his mind. The image that lingered in his mind was the flashes of blue fire through clear water as she battled Azula, risking her life to defeat the most dangerous firebender in the world, just to save him.

He smiled, gently, “Yes, I know she does.”

Kanna’s face was stone, “You swore an oath to serve your people and your country? Is that correct Fire Lord Zuko?”

He nodded. The elder looked him in the eye. He felt like she was looking deep into his soul.

“In our culture, the marriage vow outweighs any oath to lord or land. Katara must come first, before your throne, before your crown. The binding of two souls is far more ancient than any border or king, as old as the very first marriage of the spirits Tui and La. The promise you will make to each other trumps any other loyalty, and will last beyond your last breath, into the next life. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.” he instinctively reached into his pocket, “The only reason Katara doesn't know I’m here is because she would say that asking for permission from the bride's family was an outdated tradition” Sokka smirked at that, “but I also know how much your good opinion means to her, and I don’t want to hide anything from you.

“I want to do this by the book, so I’m here, to ask you personally,” he looked from person to person, “do me and Katara have your blessing for our union?”

There was silence in the room. No one moved. Zuko barely breathed.

Then Kanna rose, slowly. Instinctively Zuko moved to help her but she held up a withered hand and crossed over to him.

“Kneel, and close your eyes.”

Zuko did.

He felt her brush her fingers across his forehead.

“Now,” he looked up, “I, Kanna, matriarch of the Southern Water Tribe, mother to Hakoda, grandmother to Sokka and Katara, grant you my blessing, and the blessings of the spirits for your union.” She looked behind her, “Does anyone present of the bride's family object to the bestoying of the blessing?”

The only response was Sokka’s wide grin. Kanna nodded, and returned to her seat. Zuko stood, he couldnt hid the joy on his face, he bowed, low, to each person in the room.

“So,” Hakoda dawned a smile for himself, “have you carved the necklace?”

___

Later that night, Sokka walked Zuko back to his igloo. After Zuko’s announcement there were multiple rounds of celebratory drinks, and the pair was distinctly drunk. The southern warrior threw his arm around the other man’s shoulders as they neared the entrance.

“You know, Zuko…” He burped, “we all knew it was a matter of time before you asked her. Dad just put you through all those formalities to make you sweat.”

Zuko chuckled, “Well, it worked.”

His friend, and soon to be brother-in-law, turned to him, seriously, "You also have to know Zuko, that if Katara was here she would object to you asking us not just because it's and 'outdated tradition' but because there's no question that our answer would be 'yes'."

The Fire Lord looked at the ground, "I just... wanted to be sure."

Sokka shook his head, placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder, "We love you, Zuko. Everyone does. Honestly, I think Gran-gran likes you more than me, which hurts, but whatever," he shrugged, "bottom line, your an important part of this family, and you were long before you an Katara started sucking face." Zuko couldn't hold back a snort of laughter,

"I know, but sometimes it's hard, I'm not used to the whole 'unconditional love' stuff." he looked back, across the shining tops of the tribe, "you all just make it look so...easy."

Sokka laughed, "Yeah, tell that to dad the next time I loose blueprints."

He ruffled Zuko's hair, and returned to his position leaning on him.

“So, when are you formally popping the question?”

Zuko’s eyes traveled over to Katara’s igloo next door, then to the lights of the harbor beyond, and the twinkling stars and moon reflected in the still water.

“She comes back from Ba Sing Se in three weeks, so I figured as soon as she got home.”

Katara’s brother nodded, then grasped each of Zuko’s shoulders, making him look into his eyes, “That means you're staying long enough for bro time?” his brow was furrowed in absolute seriousness.

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

___

!!PLEASE REBLOG WITH THOUGHTS AND CRITICISMS!!

You guuuuuuys... it’s officially Zutara Week!!! YEE HAW!!!

Anyway, I’m sorry there was only indirect Katara in today’s submission. That will be rectified tomorrow. My plan for this year (though I haven't followed any plan for Zutara Week yet) is that all of my submissions will be apart of a linear narrative. It starts with today’s prompt, five years after the war, and goes from there. All of the submissions can be stand alone, but thay can also all be tied together. The only day that won’t follow this is Day Three: Celestial. I really love that particular one so its special. All of this could change, so don’t quote me on that. I hope you enjoyed :D

P.S. I’ll be tagging all my Zutara Week submissions for this year #ems zkw2020

#ems zkw2020 #Zutara week #zutara week 2020 #zutara #Zuko and Katara #atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar fanfiction #zutara fanfiction #Zuko #katara #sokka #hakoda #bato

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nastasyafilippovnas · 4 years ago

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40 and 45 for santhony :)

I did the 40 one. If I do the other, I'll tag you. I hope you like it!

santhony + exes meeting again after years AU, post-canon, wc. 2.1 (ao3)

Siena wouldn’t lie, over the years she had imagined many scenarios for meeting Anthony again. He would attend one of her performances, she would spot him among the crowd and miss the next note, making the audience gasp collectively. Or they would cross paths down the street, with her coming out of Genevieve’s shop and him coming in with his mother and sisters. They would freeze for a moment, caught in each other’s eyes, then she would run as fast as she could in the other direction. Or maybe, just maybe, she would finally attend one of Anthony’s balls, in the arms of another gentleman, and he would stare helplessly at her as she waltzed the night away.

But soon a year passed and they didn’t meet each other once. She left for France with her new protector and, shortly after, Genevieve wrote to inform that, just in case she was wondering, the Viscount Bridgerton had finally married. Genevieve enclosed a sketch of the wedding gown she had designed for the bride. Siena understood her friend’s message loud and clear. It wasn’t cruelty. It was simply time to let go.

Of course, as much as she told herself that, her heart wasn’t as easily convinced. And sometimes, in the dark of night, she still indulged in fantasies and dreams. He would come to France on business and their paths would cross at a Parisian café. Or his wife would die of consumption and he would finally come running back to her. This one left her so horrified at her own selfishness that she found herself back in church, lightening a candle and praying for the Viscountess’ health.

Then time passed, as time ought to. Ten years went by in the blink of an eye. She went from Paris to Vienna to Milan. From Le Théâtre National to the Theater in der Leopoldstadt to La Scala. She was famous all over continental Europe. She was adored. And she had accepted that Anthony belonged to her past. She would remember their time together fondly, instead of tormenting herself with what ifs and regrets.

And now, here he was, hat in hand, standing at the door to her grandmother’s house, in the Tuscan town that carried the same name as she did, twelve years after they had parted ways. Older, yes, with some gray hairs and rug lines that the boy she had known didn’t possess, but equally handsome.

Siena couldn’t hide her astonishment as she openly stared at him, without knowing what to do.

“What…what are you doing here?”

“I stopped by the theatre first.” He answered simply, as if it was the most common thing. As if they had an appointment to meet for tea she had forgotten about and now he came to remind her. “Signore Maldini told me you were here.”

Siena bet he did. Signore Maldini, who managed the day-to-day affairs of the Milanese theatre, was the biggest gossiper she knew. He must have been delighted to tell Anthony where she was staying. And by now, the whole cast of La Scala - and probably half of Milan - already knew that some English gentleman had come looking for her.

“He mentioned you were sick.” He kept moving the hat in his hands in worry. “Are you feeling better?”

“It was just a cold that wouldn’t leave.” It had been a bit more than that. It had kept her from performing. Siena had remembered how scared she had felt when week after week went by and she couldn’t sing an aria without having a coughing fit. “The doctor recommended a change of airs and warmer climate.”

Anthony nodded, but the worry still clouded his eyes and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand any of it.

“My lord, why are you here?”

“Do you think I could come in?” Anthony asked and Siena noticed then they were in the same position as when they had last seen each other. Her at the door, and him in her steps. All that was missing was the other man. “That is, if you don’t…”

Siena stepped aside, showing him inside. “I’m sorry for my manners. I guess I was a bit surprised.”

“It’s understandable. Is this your house?” He looked around the place curiously.

Siena supposed that compared to his usual lodgings, it wasn’t much. The house was a good size, and it even had two floors, but it was in desperately need of repairs. The living room only had one couch, a writing desk and a chair on one side and the fireplace occupying the other side. At least she had fixed the leaking in the roof before Anthony arrived. She would’ve been mortified if he had seen that.

“It's my grandmother’s. Well, it’s mine now. She died last year and left it for me.”

Despite all the conditions, Siena had never been more relieved to have this place than when she had gotten sick. Leaking or not, it ensured she at least had a roof over her head and, with the money she had saved over the years, it was enough to live comfortably for some time. And although the house was far from the city center, which meant long walks to the market whenever needed, it also had a huge backyard and a great view of the Tuscan hills which had done wonders, if not for her health, at least for her soul.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

Siena shrugged her shoulders. “It's okay.”

“Siena…”

They were still standing on the living room, she realized now. And whatever Anthony had to say, she didn’t want him to say it here.

“Come.” She said, already walking from the living room to the kitchen and taking the tea set she had left there for her afternoon tea and adding another cup to the tray. “We can sit on the patio and you can say whatever you have to say there.”

Anthony nodded and moved to follow her.

Siena opened the garden doors and felt some of the excitement over Anthony’s arrival leaving her, the calmness she had grown used to here returning to her. This was her favorite place in the house, probably in the city. The patio had a set of iron chairs and a table where to she directed Anthony and set their tea. It was spring and the whole backyard was blooming with flowers she had tended to herself. It filled her with pride to know she had turned the garden around all on her own, and maybe she wasn’t creating art, but at least she could help nature give and nurture life.

From their seats at the patio, they could also see part of the road and some of the Tuscan hills so many painters had tried and failed to capture the beauty of.

“It's beautiful here.” Anthony said in amazement.

“I know,” she answered, smiling. “I’ve been here for six months and it still takes my breath away every time.”

“Thank you for bringing me back here.”

She poured the tea for them. It was one of the few English habits she still kept, drinking a cup of tea while watching the Tuscan sunset, though she hardly ever had any company.

“You're welcome. Now…why are you here, Anthony?”

During all the time they spent together, she hardly ever used his name. But, after so many years, and inside her own idilic corner of the world, she felt she was finally allowed to.

Anthony let out a small chuckle, “I guess the scandals of the ton don’t make their way to little corners of heaven in Italy.”

“I'm afraid we don’t yet receive Lady Whistledown’s papers, no.” She said and, because she also worried about him, added, “Is everything okay? Is the Viscountess well?”

Anthony smile grew bigger at her question and he laughed. “The Viscountess is very well. She is currently enjoying herself to our country house with her lover. Female lover.”

“Oh.” That was certainly unexpected. Siena snorted. “I'm sorry. I’m sure that must have been most distressing for you.”

“Not as much as it should’ve been.” He answered seriously, staring directly at her.

Siena bit her lip and turned away from him, looking at the garden. “I see.” She paused and took a sip from her tea. “Are there any kids?”

The last news she had from Anthony were of his marriage on Genevieve’s letter. Afterwards, she never asked and, if she knew of anything, her friend never mentioned it.

“No. None.”

The answer didn’t shock her as much as how unbothered he seemed by it. That had always seemed so important when they were together, to have an heir. It had been his duty, after all.

“You could always get an annulment and marry again.”

When he didn’t offer any reply, Siena looked back at him. “But you won’t.”

Anthony sighed and drank his tea before answering it. “It seems…unkind to separate the Viscountess and the woman she loves, doesn’t it? Why should they suffer for being in love?”

She smiled softly. Anthony Bridgerton. She had always known he was a hopeless romantic.

“And the title?”

Anthony shrugged. “Benedict has two boys and so does Colin. It shall pass to one of them upon my death. Though, hopefully, a long time from now.”

“You seem to have made your peace with it.” It amazed her he wasn’t right now back in England attempting to perform his duties to perfection.

“Did you know I had never left England before?” Siena shook her head, though it didn’t come exactly as a surprise. She had travelled all over Europe like a gipsy, but he had stayed, strong and steady, since becoming head of the family at twenty. “Simon left to see the world and so did Colin. But I stayed. I never even considered leaving, except…”

He paused and looked away from her as both of them remembered the one time he was talking about. He didn’t finish that sentence, he didn’t need to.

“When the rumors started, the Viscountess left for the country and I didn’t see the point of staying in London, hearing the catty comments about my failed marriage.”

Siena nodded in understanding.

“You should know,” he continued, “I didn’t set out to see you.”

“Is that so?” She didn’t know if she should feel offended or not at that when he ended up at her door all the same.

“I went to Spain first. Not Italy. Not France.” The no country that would’ve reminded me of you was implied, but she understood it.

“That's a beautiful country too. I performed there for the King once.”

“Of course you did.” He smiled fondly at her. “So, I was walking down the streets in Barcelona one day, seeing all these marvelous things around me, and I realized there was only person I wanted to share that experience with. One person I wanted by my side. The same person I have always wanted. And I was wasting my time. I was letting my injured pride and my fear of another rejection prevent me from pursuing her.”

He looked directly into her eyes through the whole speech. After all this time. It was preposterous and fantastical and her heart was beating so fast it felt like it would leave her chest.

He raised his hand to her face and caressed it softly, tracing the contours of her lips and her chin just like he used to do. Siena closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of his fingers on her skin once more.

“Then you went to Milan?” She asked.

“No.” He answered with a little laugh and she opened her eyes. “As far as I knew, you were in Paris. So I went there. Then to Vienna. And finally to Milan. Every place I went, you had already left. It figures I would have to come to your city to find you.”

He grabbed her hands into his and dropped a kiss on top of it. She could hardly believe what was happening.

He had gone through quite the journey. For her. Back to her.

“I don’t know if I can sing anymore.” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

“What are you talking about?” Anthony looked back at her in confusion but didn’t drop her hands.

“Ever since I got sick, I can’t… The coughing was too bad. I’m better now, but… I’m afraid of trying and not being able.” It felt good to finally confess her feelings to someone. “And, to be honest, I don’t know if I want to go back. I miss singing but I don’t miss the stage.”

He kept caressing her hands through her confession, providing her support.

“You should do whatever makes you the happiest.” He said simply.

Siena got up from her chair and sat on his lap. Her hands on both sides of his face, looking directly into his eyes as she asked, “And you?”

“That’s also up to you. I will stay for as long as you will have me.”

Forever, Siena thought. Then she kissed him, again and again.

send me a ship + a number from this list and i'll write a short story

#truegodofthearena #answered asks #santhony #anthony x siena #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #siena rosso #my fics

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lihikainanea · 4 years ago

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thinking about bill and tiger going on a winter road trip around the rural parts of europe. they take turns driving and eat at awful for you restaurants, go to all the cheesy tourist attractions, and a spontaneous mini golf sesh because tiger made a bet she could beat him. and once they get to their first stop, he goes in for a sweet kiss once they’re settled, but it naturally progresses into something more intimate. soft gasps, little giggles when he accidentally tickles her, and they have sex to the sound of the fireplace cracking.... brb gonna cry for a bit -🧚‍♀️

Ohhhhh bullseye, baby.

I don’t know if it’s just my Canadian side talking--we’re basically just a few chromosomes away from being polar bears--but there is something deeply engrained in me, something that really loves the winter. I am an autumn girl through and through, but something about winter is just...undeniably magical. Yes, sometimes it’s awful--the road conditions, the slippery sidewalks, the -40C, the 8 feet of snow that gets dumped on us weekly. But there’s also such a mysticism to it, a uniqueness, a lovely and serene quality.

There is the way that the bright snow illuminates a dark night--soft blankets just coating everything. It’s the way that it somehow makes everything much more quiet--most who have experienced cold winters can tell you that there is indeed silence that most of us associate with only the winter months, when the snow just seems to insulate everything and block out all echoes. A peacefulness. There’s the bright winter sky that is somehow just impossibly blue, a blue that you only see in January or February, and usually when the temperatures drop to insufferable degrees that no human should live through. The coldest days bring the brightest skies, and it’s a blue I’ve never seen anywhere else in the world. It’s the different kinds of snow that fall--soft and powdery, the type you want to just pelt at each other, or heavy and wet--the perfect kind for making a snowman.

Bill said a few years ago that the winters in Toronto were the coldest he had ever felt, and I felt some weird Canadian pride that we had successfully beaten a Nordic man into wintery submission. To boot--Toronto ain’t even all that cold compared to our prairie brethren. I wonder if he’s ever visited Landon in February.

In any case, despite its tribulations, winter holds a special place in my heart--and winter in Europe? Oh man. The November/December trip I took to Oslo and Copenhagen two years ago was the prettiest thing I had ever seen--Europe does cozy winter right. Everything is warm drinks, big knits, patios outside with heating lamps, blankets on chairs. It’s beautiful.

And maybe this trip is kind of her dream--but listen, for non-Europeans, driving in Europe can be terrifying, you know? I nearly get killed when I just try to cross the street on foot, let alone attempting to drive. But Bill grew up in these countries, traveled all over ‘em, and he’s more than fine with driving. Maybe he doesn’t even tell tiger the plan--he has a rough outline, but he keeps it secret. Tiger just thinks it’s the greatest thing, hitting the road in Europe with her big dude. He drives everywhere, confident and calm, through snowy mountains in a nice car, holding her hand. Maybe they start in France, drive on over to Switzerland. He rents a small room in a beautiful log cabin in the Alps, and it’s all fire place and cheese fondue and huge, fur blankets on the bed. They take a fondue tour. They hop on a beautiful scenic train that takes them around the country in a day. They go ice skating (he won’t let her ski, he’s not falling for that again). They drink mulled wine on their outdoor heated patio when they get back, all red noses and huddled together. They absolutely have sex under a blanket in front of the fire place, and it’s intimate and warm, both of their skin glowing in the soft light of the fire. The bed is huge, a big wooden frame complete with four posts, but they sleep glued to each other. He stuffs her silly, full of melty cheese fondue and raclette.

Maybe they head to Austria from there, he brings her to all the small pastry shops he knows of. He takes her prancing through the famous garden, takes her on a hot chocolate tour, gets enough chocolate snacks for the road. He brings her to Mozart’s house, introduces her to her first Mozartkugel, and he has to forbid her from eating anymore wiener schnitzel because she almost made herself sick. Maybe if it’s around Christmas time, he takes her to a few Christmas markets.

Then they head up to Germany, the whole time locked in an intense debate about glugg versus gluhwein--tiger can’t tell the difference, she just likes both but it’s very important, kid--maybe Bill has to stop along a few roads, let a herd of mountain goats go by. Even the ROADS are pretty in Europe. They stop for snacks in roadside restaurants and shacks, and god even the small motels along the way from country to country are just so beautiful. He takes her to all the German Christmas markets, hosts an elaborate mulled wine tasting (see tiger? glugg is so much better), feeds her bratwursts. Tiger is amazed that Bill can literally down an entire 1L stein of beer in just a few gulps, along with a pretzel the size of his face. In fact, maybe this time it’s tiger that has to intervene--Bill had 4 pretzels in a row and as he went for a fifth, she yanked him the other way. Got him a sausage on a stick instead, because somehow that’s better.

They head up to Scandinavia from there--a quick stop in Denmark, and that is entirely at tiger’s request. Bill’s Swedish side says fuck Denmark. But he takes her shopping on Stroget, tries to get her to properly pronounce stegt flæsk med persillesovs, maybe even takes her for a romantic stroll near Tivoli. Tiger makes the cardinal sin of mentioning that Danish Gløgg is her favourite so far and Bill almost like, smacks the mug out of her hands. They eat aebelskiver, and she laughs when he gets powdered sugar all over his nose. They stay a night or two in a beautiful little inn, before hopping back in the car.

Tiger loves that she’s just not worrying about anything. Bill knows how to gas up in Europe. He knows how the roads work. He knows how to park and read the parking signs. He knows where they can stop and get food, he knows where they can stay--tiger is just in the passenger seat, holding his big hand, and she’s glowing. He gets her a cute winter hat, a warmer pair of mittens when she’s cold. They pick up a few beautiful Christmas ornaments along the way, because the Christmas markets are just too beautiful not to.

They finally end back up in Sweden, but they’re not done yet. Bill drives way north into the countryside, where it’s dark all the time and where you can see the Northern Lights. He knows his way around--he rents a glass igloo for a few nights, gets a ski doo, drives her out to the middle of nowhere and parks it. The Northern Lights light up the entire sky, and tiger swears she’s never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She cries about it--god granny would have loved this. He hugs her and tells her to try to stop--wet tears on cold cheeks is never a good thing.

They sleep that night on their backs, still huddled together, watching the lights dance across the sky. He convinces her to try reindeer the next morning--tiger is a big fan of Christmas and eating reindeer just seems wrong--but it’s a pretty normal thing out there. She hates how much she loves it. And it’s a great way for him to reveal their next destination--none other than Santa Claus’ legit village, in Rovaniemi, Finland. Her squeal is so loud it nearly cracks the glass igloo.

#I love winter #there's no denying it #but also #I was supposed to spend a week in a glass igloo in Rovaniemi this December #it was booked and paid for #and then #obliterated #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #soft bill

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ramble-writes · 4 years ago

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So... Today is my Frank's birthday. Yes it is May 1st deal with it. BUT, here we are again with MORE of the Frank Brothers! I told myself I was gonna do this cuz it would be nice and I'm finding myself liking this AU. So James belongs to (again~) @franks-mixtape! As for the Julie (same one from the previous one) that one belongs to my bf. So.. Happy Birthday to my boy, big ol’ boofer you are. And Luke I tried to make sure I still got a mellow raven tone right cuz hi I haven’t been writing in a while.

NOTE!!!! This would take place after the valentine’s fic. So meaning that Fenik and James met in 1995 which carried onto 1996 (year in-game legion disappeared). As for the first wolf bros fic, that one was like.. an in the middle thing. So yeah.

Warning(s): cursing, teenager stuff lol

Don’t forget to like, reblog, and follow if ya wanna see more! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Due to a teacher, the pack of Fairview knew about one of Frank's birthdays. On January 18th on a Thursday, the teacher for physics during roll call had briefly announced it when he called out James’s name. This information was quick to be relayed, since Joey was there in the class to hear Julie, Susie, and the other Frank, Fenik as his middle name goes.

Good on Fenik’s part for having a free period since he was quick to leave the school and hurried off to see about something simple to get his brother. Though... Any sort of gift or a word of cheer was met with hostility and retaliation. Of course, this worried the hell out of the three. Fenik only knew about what really happened and as to why his brother hated his own birthday a few days later when the raven-haired teen came stumbling to his brother’s home drunk off his ass and told the whole story.

Damn near broke the russet-haired Morrison’s heart at it...

Fast-forward to March. It was something about after valentine’s that Julie wondered about Fenik’s birthday, and had brought up this thought to his brother, Joey, and Susie. James was quick to be against it and said to drop it with a snap. He may not know what horrors his other half went through, but Fenik’s been the wolf the longest and had yet to ever snap. And he didn’t want to risk that. The last thing he honestly wanted (but never admitted) was for there to be a fight and for any of them to be hurt or worse, killed.

Of course, it brought on determination to mix with curiosity. Which was a bad mix when it comes to Julie since she went over to the russet-haired teen's foster home. Her last class was a free period, so it made it easy to get up and leave without really sticking around. Since it's most likely the couple has his papers upon fostering, it would have his date of birth on it.

"So... He's a May baby?"

"That's right. And on the first, no less," Audrey responded with a nod. A look crossed her face, then the woman turned to look at the young girl. "Do you think he wants to do anything for his birthday? With what he's been through, I think it would be nice."

Julie casted her eyes to the side, brown orbs focusing on a cross country trophy with a figure in a running position with the words '2nd Place: Fairview' engraved at the bottom.

"His brother says it would be a bad idea to do anything after what happened on his birthday."

"You mean, the other Frank? His half brother?"

"Mhm. He doesn't know what would happen if we do something for him. Though, I do agree since raven head threw a big fit on his birthday. Frank knows what happened, but hasn't told us."

Audrey nodded in understanding. Seeing as the two have the same father, of course, they would confide in each other. She does remember back in January that night when she went to check on the (unknowingly) wolf, that she saw the two in Fenik's bed. Amber eyes had looked over with a gesture for her to be silent. From what she could see of the passed-out teenager, was that he smelt of alcohol and just barely could see cheeks stained with tears.

"Then... How about a gift?"

That made Julie think. She wouldn't really know what he would want seeing as there's quite a bit he keeps to himself and or only shares with James. So she just shrugged. At least they have till May to think it over.

May 1st was only about a week away. The pack had about a full month to plan on what to do. Even though it was on a Wednesday, the weekend could be used up for the group. Despite his best efforts with telling them it's a bad idea, James caved and (reluctantly) agreed to help out to see what things caught his brother's eye.

So far, nothing. But, the raven-haired 19-year-old, on his first hunt, noticed something about the russet-haired teen. It was after they took down a moose, how Fenik managed to detach the head with a snap of the spine and the sickening ripping sound of flesh and muscles. James had... no idea how much blood was truly on the both of them till Fenik shifted back.

Blood covered his mouth and chin, running down his neck to his shirt under his jacket. And his hands were *drenched* from biting and attacking the moose. Back to the point, the black pelted wolf watched how the skin on the head was cut off with a knife the other had stowed away. It clicked that way. Bones/Skulls were of his interest with how he was careful with it and set it up against a tree.

"Whatcha doin' there fuzz butt?"

"Ideas are needed. Plus, gotta draw out your first hunting band! You're a Morrison, brother. And, maybe, if you'd like. A new skull. I'm thinkin' flesh hanging off the antlers."

"That's... bitchin. But, for another day. I'm cool with the band."

Fenik nodded, then finished what he was doing before shifting back and headed back over to his brother. It did surprise James when the rust-colored wolf took a big ol' bite out of the carcass and *swallowed* it down. He decided not to make a comment and tried it out himself. Weird how as a wolf the taste of raw meats doesn't taste so bad.

Since the days have gotten warmer with summer coming, clothes were lighter so no one overheated. At lunch, it was clear to the others how relaxed Fenik looked, not minding when his soon-to-be teammates from track & field would come over and pat him on the back to wish him a happy 19th and some even gave him 10 or 5 bucks (10 = about 8. 5 = about 4). He didn't mind *that* part one bit.

When school was out, the pack stood outside the steps as per usual. Well, except Joey till he did hop down the steps with a pretty big grin on his face. This made the two Morrisons and Julie look over with a raised brow.

"Somethin' up, Joe?"

"Yup! So, ya know how you told us you and raven head here went on his first hunt, yeah?"

Fenik nodded slowly, suspicious of what the tallest of their group was going on about. He heard his brother sigh in his head and go on about how he tried to tell them not to. "Yeaaaah?"

"And ya got all those tattoos n such, right?"

"Joey... What did you do."

The 18-year-old smiled and took off his backpack. Opening it, he withdrew a bag (that he most likely stashed in his locker) and handed it over. The russet-haired teen blinked as he took it, peaking in with amber eyes. Reaching in, he withdrew a box no bigger than the length of his forearm.

"A stick n poke?"

"Yeah! Well, we know that you do pretty well in art and that from some of the stuff you've shown us, you do all those dots that create really cool images."

"Stipple. That's what the media is called."

"Yeah, th-"

"JOEY YOU DIDN'T WAIT FOR ME!"

Susie came running down the steps with what looks like a book in her hand that she's waving about. Turns out the book was a sketchbook. At first, there was a slow build of concern and worry with how quiet he is, that is till they all felt a wave of sadness mixed with happiness. Hearing Fenik sniffle with a smile on his face was something.

"Sorry ah... I've.. never really celebrated my birthday. Always thought of it as bad since I was put in the system a day before my birthday. And.. all the others after that in every home, they just took the extra money I was supposed to get every May."

He ended it by muttering how the families thought it was bonus money. There were shared looks at that. Put in the system before turning 8. Ouch... James then leaned onto his brother's side, feeling him lean back. He isn't good with words, but as they say, actions speak louder than words.

After that exchange was done, the five all went home. Even after that day, Fenik was a bit snide on the fact that the other two didn't really get him anything. But, maybe Joey just had a higher knowledge? Though that didn't seem right, James did know about it as well.

The silence that followed didn't make any sense till Friday.

When the russet-haired teen got home, he was confused. One moment James hurried off to his house, then the next moment he was at the door of his house with his backpack.

"Bro, what the hell are you doin?"

"Waiting on you, and the others."

"Others?"

James just motioned for him to open the door, when he did, his parents were there waiting with bags of what he could tell is camping gear.

"Uh... What is going on?"

Mitch looked up upon hearing the teen and stood there proudly with a smile on his face as he gestured to the two big bags that hold two separate tents, rolled up sleeping bags, bags that probably have food and blankets, and other things.

"When was the last time you've been camping?"

"Uh... Six years ago? I think? Why?"

"We thought it would be nice to go down to the lake. Minnewanka to be exact," Audrey exclaimed with a smile. James let out a snort of a laugh from behind at the name, which the woman ignored before turning her attention to the people that walked up to the door.

"And we thought it would be nice to bring your friends and your brother! That's why they have their bags for the weekend."

Fenik turned his head to look over his shoulder to see Susie, Joey, and Julie there with what were their backpacks that were once full of school supplies, but now hold clothing. It took a moment for him to put the pieces together and his eyes widened.

"Wait, is this for my birthday?"

The six people in the room all smiled with nods of their heads. This made him get excited and rushed over to the stairs and his steps thundered as he ran up to his room. The raven-haired teen went up after the silence that followed after his other half left, wanting to avoid the awkward standing without knowing what to say.

The trip was long, but the weather made up for it. Susie, Joey, and Julie were in the backseat, mainly because the brothers insisted since they wanna sit in the truck bed. Honestly, the happiness that radiated from both was astounding considering the many shit foster homes they had.

It was Fenik who insisted that they howl out along the ride, mainly to be idiots in his excitement but, as far as he knows James probably hasn't tried to before. The sound though, was loud when conjoined from the two. Joey ended up sticking his head out to do it as well, Susie had turned down her hearing aid to make it easier to join in from her head coming out of the back window. Julie just chuckled with a roll of her eyes with Mitch and Audrey.

Upon getting there, a spot was reserved for them marked in outdoor safe spray paint. What was odd was how it was marked F.J. Fenik looked to the two adults, assuming it was a way to mark as him and Julie, that was till they looked at James with worried yet hopefully glances.

"We thought it would be nice to celebrate both your birthdays. From when I last saw you, James. You passed out in your brother's arms and looked like you've been crying."

There was a visible flinch from the raven-haired teen at that. He did remember getting drunk and stumbling to the other's home. He couldn't remember all that he said in his drunken stupor, but he did remember that he mentioned why he hates his own birthday. It clicked in his head right there and he stared at the two adults before muttering a low: "Why..."

"We may not know the reason why, and we know we were told to not do anything for you in the future but..."

"What the old bag is trying to say is, why not knock out two birds with one stone in the best way possible. At least y'all can go out and let all the crazies inside, out."

Green eyes sought out to hopefully lock with amber eyes, and they did, but it felt like there was a gentle coax in James's mind.

*'Ya might as well go with it. They ain't easy with "no" for an answer. But, they mean well. Honest.'*

The 19-year-old looked back at the two adults who were scolding each other from Mitch calling Audrey an 'old bag.' Looking down to the marker, he toed at it before letting out a sigh.

"Alright. But just this once. No more shit after it," He concluded. That caught the two's attention, but they nodded in understanding. For the rest of the time till dinner, they set up the two tents. One for the adults, the other for the teenagers. It was nice that a grill was there since hamburgers, salmon, and what other things they brought in cans were cooked.

It was Susie who declared that any gifts that were brought were to be given. She ended up giving Fenik a scarf she made, an infinity scarf that's a big circle. Course, he put that on. The one from Julie was... Questionable. It was a collar and a leash which promoted James to point and cackle like a mad man.

"AWW YOU GONNA TAKE YOUR WITTLE PUBBY OUT FOR WALKIES!!" He wheezed out, just howling with laughter before yelping when his brother had taken the leash and snapped it like what people do with belts. As a joke (they both know), the younger of the two chased after the eldest yelling about tying him up to a tree. The adults didn't get it, but the teenagers did and Joey fell down from wheezing so much.

When it all calmed down, Fenik yelped at a toy hitting his head and plopping onto the ground. A *squeaky* toy. He just glared at his brother who snickered, making the joke about the collar and leash worse. He muttered a 'thanks' to it before stopping at feeling something plush be placed on his head. He let it land in his lap to see a folded up plaid blanket, blue and red in color with its usual mixed colored squares when it comes to two colors. Thick in material too, meant to keep one warm.

*'It's not every night we get to run around the forest like some shitty dystopian forest novel, so I thought why not get something that'll ease ya when we're apart.'*

Fenik brought it up to his face to rub his face on it, but the fact that it was practically coated in James's scent honestly did bring him comfort that he kinda just... sat there with his face in it silently before lifting his face up with a smile on it. It was easy to tell that he's pleased about it.

Did they go night swimming? Yes. There was a bit of daylight left so it made swimming perfect for the teenagers as they did their best to not be so loud to disturb other sleeping campers. Of course they couldn't help the squeaks and yelps that were let out from falling in and water being splashed. Joey ended up calling it good and declared he's heading back to dry off and sleep. Susie followed after. Julie did as well, after wishing the both of them 'Happy Birthday' and kissing the both of them on the cheek.

It left the two Morrisons there on the shoreline, sitting there gazing out as the last bit of light faded and allowed for their eyes to adjust and adapt to the dark. Fenik went over to the lump that is his towel and unrolled it to pull out his newly acquired blanket, only to see a little box plop out. Confused, he picked it up as he headed over to his brother and sat down to drape the blanket over the both of them.

Before he could even ask, James nudged him to open it. He didn't press on but listened and ended up withdrawing a cord necklace tied around what looks like a tip of an antler. It was engraved too with what appears to be a half of a wolf face, but the lines were dyed green. That's when he noticed another one with the other half of the face and lines dyed red.

The raven-haired teen took both. The one with the red lines he put on around his neck, then fitted the one with the green lines around his brother's neck. A matching set, but the one the russet-haired one had was bigger, until it clicked as to why.

"Remember that box ya showed me of those pieces of bones you've collected or snapped off?" When Fenik nodded as a response, he kept going. "I took the tip from that moose we took down, then this one that I have from the deer you told me you hunted. So I thought, why the hell not?"

"And you made a matching set out of them... Thank you..."

James nodded with a half smile, then his eyes followed as his brother stood up. He did the same and shifted after Fenik did. Compared to the walking hellfire the rusted colored wolf is, he's a shadow with orbs to lure in those that are unsuspecting. Together, it was just two big overgrown dogs that caused chaos like puppies.

#very long #holy shit why did this take forever #and why is it so ffffffuckin long #I curse myself lol #also I do miss writing for these two hdbhgfbhgcdf #brother franks au #frank morrison #julie kostenko #susie dbd #joey dbd #dbd #legion dbd #wolf frank #my writings

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jaeknightorbats · 4 years ago

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Tunnel Caprica [M] part 5

Pairings: Baekhyun x Sehun (SeBaek)

Ratings: NC-17

Genre: Smut, dark romance, Rich!Sehun, Convenience Store Worker!Baekhyun

Description: It was a normal day for convenience store worker Byun Baekhyun when Sehun—a seemingly wealthy man—entered the store, only getting overdosed by drugs afterwards. It was the encounter that would change Baekhyun’s life. It was the encounter that introduced him to a world that should never exist in this already problematic world.

Warnings: Graphic sexual content(!), substance use, drug overdose, alcohol, and strong language

Chapters: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 (NEW!)

Synopsis: Tunnel Caprica connects two cities under the huge and long mountain ranges of the country Ioca [a-yo-ka], making it one of the longest tunnels in the world with a distance of nearly 40 kilometers. However, people choose to drive the 3-hour long pass than driving through the tunnel, because driving through the tunnel can be claustrophobic—an hour drive with nothing but repeating images of the never ending tunnel. But through the tunnel also hides the entrance to another world that Baekhyun is yet to find out.

Part 5

Word count: 5.7k words

Chapter warnings: Explicit language, mild graphic descriptions

‘Why the fuck did I say yes.’

Baekhyun was anxious all afternoon.

He couldn’t get his head off of the possibilities that could happen later that night at High C’s, the club downtown that Sehun talked about. Baekhyun had never been there since it was an exclusive place. He’d barely been in that area, especially at night—where he had heard stories that the driveway was often packed with sports and luxury cars with people coming out of it in the weirdest fashion, both literally and figuratively.

Baekhyun was never really the type to hang around in bars or clubs frequently, he only did so when a friend invited him on some occasions, and it’s a good excuse to socialize and let loose. But it had been months since he was last invited, he had been too focused on his own commitments.

‘I must protect Yuri,’ he thought. ‘I must protect myself.’

Sehun wasn’t picky with his prey. He didn’t discriminate. He would insert his damn cock to whichever hole he wanted. That was what Baekhyun was afraid of—Sehun’s unpredictability.

He couldn’t tell Yuri what kind of a person Sehun was because that would only reveal what had happened between him and Sehun.

‘Or maybe I’m overthinking things?’ He wondered. ‘He seems harmless outside the bed.’

“What the hell am I complaining about? He gave me 4K,” he mumbled to himself as he twisted the shower knob off. He was in the shower.

Water dripped from the tips of his hair falling to the wet tiled floor of his bathroom. And his eyes noticed the bush that was going around down there, protecting his dignity. If he still had one. Not after what had happened the night before. Then he remembered Sehun’s—that looked alluring. Baekhyun wondered if he had his cleaned, he wondered would it look as pleasing?

Baekhyun suddenly couldn’t get the idea off his mind, suddenly having the urge to cut his bush down right that moment. Maybe it would make him feel better, more confident about himself. And it may be convenient to cut it down this moment than later.

‘I’m not doing this for anyone.’ Baekhyun thought to himself. ‘I’m doing this for myself. No, I’m not trying to impress anyone. Not because we’d meet later.’

“Just a trim,” he muttered to himself, staring down.

‘Just so it happens there’s a party tonight. Just pure coincidence.’

“Just a trim,” he repeated.

“What took you so long? Did you sleep there?” Yuri asked, eyeing Baekhyun when he stepped out of the bathroom, as she hooked a large hoop earring on one ear.

Baekhyun scratched his crotch over his shorts, and topless. He stretched his neck from side to side from the sore he felt while doing the procedure. He then stroked his stomach and answered Yuri’s question, “Upset tummy.”

Yuri looked back at the mirror, convinced with his answer.

“What are you wearing?” Baekhyun asked with a frown while he was drying his hair with a towel.

After she hooked the other earring on her other ear, she turned to him with an open arm and said, “Well, how do I look?”

Baekhyun stopped drying his hair, a bit stunned, while he evaluated Yuri’s look when she faced her whole body to him. The first thing he noticed were her perky breasts under her string strapped red cropped top. Then she’s also wearing a black high waist mini skirt, revealing a part of her abdomen, finishing it with a black heel. “That’s too revealing,” Baekhyun uttered.

Yuri looked down over her outfit. “No, it’s not,” she retorted. “Besides, this is my best clothes. And this is the only thing I brought.” They had stopped by at Yuri’s place to pick up some of her clothes earlier. She continued, looking back at the mirror in front of her, “You have no choice. If you only listened to me, we could’ve bought clothes earlier.”

Baekhyun arched his brow. “With what?”

She looked at him over the mirror, opening her eyes wide open as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“The money?” Baekhyun answered himself, referring to the money he received from Sehun.

She raised her shoulders. “Yeah. What else are you going to do with it?” She then gasped, eyes glimmering, “Oh! We can finally go on a trip, Baek!”

“A trip?”

“Yeah!”

A trip, something Baekhyun hadn’t thought about. Then images of white beaches and warmer climate appeared in his mind since his country, Ioca, was full of mountains and lands. They could totally afford to go a much less-earthy place with the money he gained. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he agreed with a wondering smile.

Yuri’s lips curved upwards, delighted that Baekhyun seemed to like the idea. So she walked towards him and wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders. “Right?”

Baekhyun stared down at her and wrapped his arms around Yuri’s waist. She smelled good with the usual Eau de Cologne she wore, her eyes looked strong with the dark eye makeup she had. “You look pretty.”

Yuri blushed, and tiptoed to reach for Baekhyun’s lips. “I love you, baby.”

Baekhyun kissed her again, then said, “I gotta get changed.”

“Okay, my handsome boy.” She stared endearingly at him while gently stroking her palm across Baekhyun’s buffed chest to his slender stomach that tickled him. Her hand kept stroking down until she got a hold of his shaft, and squeezed them. Baekhyun grunted, his stomach tensing, suddenly feeling weak. She bit her lower lip and moaned. Then suddenly, she slightly jumped from her position, jerking her hand away from him, as if she got pricked by a thorn. Then Yuri gazed at Baekhyun with a frown, studying him. Then she said slowly, “Okay, go get changed.”

It was past nine in the evening, Baekhyun and Yuri had finished preparing. Baekhyun was wearing a pair of black jeans, a tacky denim jacket over a white shirt. Yuri was looking at him quizzically by the door.

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?” Baekhyun asked, approaching Yuri.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing something more… suave? Like the one you wore to his party?”

“Babe, it’s a club. No one would see me there.” He added, “People sometimes go to clubs with just shirts.”

“I know, but have you seen that man?” Her eyes opened wide, and jabbered, “That suave looking man who just stood out there outside your place this morning? That man? They’ll probably be in their suits.” Baekhyun didn’t speak, but he began to think twice. Yuri huffed, “Just make sure don’t ridicule us in front of them.”

Baekhyun shrugged and opened the front door of his place. He left his car parked on the side of the street after he and Yuri came back from Yuri’s place, picking up Yuri’s things.

“Don’t you think we should call an Uber instead?” Yuri asked, looking at the car with contempt.

“What’s wrong with my car?”

“I mean, you may never know what could happen. You can’t drive if you drink,” she said, implying that there could be a possibility they’d drink.

“We’re not gonna drink,” uttered Baekhyun firmly. No, he had no plan on drinking. Not after what had happened that night.

“But you’re not sure about that, babe.”

“Well, I’m not gonna drink,” he retorted.

Yuri went quiet, then she pouted, “I’m telling you, baby—I’ve said the same thing myself before. And I always end up drinking.”

Baekhyun sighed, because he himself was guilty of the feeling. He always ended up drinking. However, this time, he felt so sure about not drinking even though he could drive. “No, I promise I won’t drink. I have a job tomorrow, remember?” Although Sehun's job for him was in the afternoon, he couldn’t take any chances to have another hangover.

Yuri grunted in frustration. “Can we just call an Uber?” She pulled her phone out of her tiny purse that could only hold her large phone, a compact powder and lipstick, not even her wallet could fit. She only brought bills.

“You don’t like going there with my car?”

“Yeah, I don’t,” she grumbled as she tapped on her phone. “Baek, these are rich people. Have some self-respect. At least make yourself look presentable.”

“Babe, the car’s not going inside. We’re just going to park it somewhere.”

Yuri gave Baekhyun a side-eye, glaring at him, then looked back at her phone. “Ha-bloody-ha. Very funny.” Then her mouth circled when something popped out on her phone, someone took her booking. “We got a Mercedes Benz.” She smirked at him. “Two minutes.”

“Benz? You took premium?”

She arched a brow. “Of course.”

Two minutes came by, the shiny black sedan parked outside Baekhyun’s place. Yuri grinned when the vehicle came by, Baekhyun only gently smiled at his girlfriend, shaking his head. It didn’t feel overwhelming for Baekhyun when they entered the luxury vehicle, and it also seemed a bit old. At least they could tell they had ridden a Mercedes.

Yuri sat closely to Baekhyun, cuddling herself into his shoulder, and Baekhyun wrapped one arm around her waist. “I’m excited,” she said. “It’s been so long since we went out like this at night. Did you miss it?”

Baekhyun scoffed. “Not really.”

“Why? You’re so fun when you’re drunk.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, you’re just so fun.” She looked up at Baekhyun and closed her eyes, pouting, for a kiss while quietly humming an ‘Mmmh.’

Baekhyun gulped, staring down at his girlfriend. He avoided her lips but instead leaned closer to her ears, and whispered, “Baby, we’re in someone else’s car.”

Yuri’s eyes remain closed. “So what?”

Baekhyun glanced at the rear-view mirror of the car and caught the driver looking at them, then they both avoided each other’s gazes. “Yuri, c’mon.” Baekhyun slightly pushed her away, then looked through the window.

But Yuri still leaned her head on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “But isn’t he so handsome?”

Baekhyun looked at Yuri. “Who? Sehun?”

“Yeah. He looked like a celebrity. He’s so tall!”

Baekhyun almost thought the same thing on his first encounter with Sehun at the convenience store. He had thought Sehun was lost inside the convenience store.

“Baek, what does he do?” Yuri questioned.

Baekhyun was lost in his thoughts when Yuri asked a question, then slowly, he understood it. “What?” Now that he thought about it, he never really knew. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Maybe business?” He guessed.

“What the hell did you do to his party then? You didn’t even get to know him?”

“Get to know him?” He repeated her question with a hint of mockery. Why would he want to get to know him? Then, in a snap, he remembered everything about Sehun. Every-thing. Regret consumed him that left him wordless. But he immediately snapped out of it. “Oh! I remember it now,” he exclaimed, pretending that he remembered what Sehun does for a living. “I was a bit tipsy that time when he was talking about it. He, uh,” he was thinking of a lie to stop Yuri from asking more questions, “he’s in the art business. Selling art.” He remembered the man named Chen from Sehun’s party who was trying to sell his art to Sehun, and used this story to cover himself.

Yuri arched a brow. “That’s it?”

“Y-Yeah, rich people like to buy art.”

“Where’d you even learn that?”

“That’s what he said. ‘Cuz they have nothing else to do with their money.” Saying that himself suddenly made Baekhyun envious of these rich people’s lives, even if it was only a wild guess. If he only had that kind of money at his disposal.

“Really?” Even Yuri was surprised. “How much do they—“

“I have no idea, Yuri. Like I said, I was tipsy.”

“Gosh. Imagine if I was that rich, too.”

A loud muffled music and rowdy people from the outside caught Baekhyun’s attention, so he looked through the window and saw a convertible passed by them with people throwing their hands up while the music in the car played so loudly. “I think we’re close,” Baekhyun said.

Yuri detached herself away from Baekhyun and exchanged looks between the windshield and the window. They were beginning to see a line of shiny luxury vehicles and sports cars in bright red, pearl white, pitch crystal black, opulent blue—one was even in lime gold—parked along the street. Baekhyun was now feeling thankful for Yuri’s suggestion to take an Uber. Because driving along this street of wealth with his car would eat him alive, the same thing that almost happened to him when he had gone to Sehun’s mansion.

They were finally approaching the infamous High C, people were coming in with such manner and glamour, and people coming out on someone’s shoulders, walking wobbly. Baekhyun even spotted one throwing up already at the sidewalk. Baekhyun clenched his jaws; being in a club was all fun but it wasn’t the safest place at all.

After paying for their fare to the Uber driver, Baekhyun and Yuri got out of the vehicle and they were already feeling the party with the unruly people outside—shouting, smoking, one couple were making out. People in such peculiar and questionable fashion coming out from a vintage Mustang, two-seater sports cars, still sober. All those vehicles that Baekhyun only saw on the internet, now these cars were having a feast in this street.

Yuri bit her lips, Baekhyun could see the excitement in her eyes. There was always a certain feeling to be in a club—a sudden boost of arrogance and confidence, high sex drives, and ready to forget about themselves for a night.

“Wooh,” Baekhyun heaved. He couldn’t contain himself, he knew this would be intense.

Baekhyun and Yuri held hands as they approached the bouncer that was about 6 foot tall with large muscles and broad shoulders. But the bouncer blocked the entry door without saying anything, and he didn’t need to say anything—him blocking them was already intimidating.

Yuri courteously smiled at the bouncer and said, “We have a friend inside, uhm, Sehun?” She glanced at Baekhyun. “Oh Sehun?” Baekhyun nodded at her as confirmation. Yuri looked back at the bouncer. “Oh Sehun. We’re with him.”

The bouncer frowned at the couple, studying them. “Go to line,” he simply said under his rough voice. Baekhyun and Yuri turned their heads to their right and didn’t notice there was a long line going on to enter the club.

“But, mister,” persuaded Yuri, “I’m telling the truth. We have—”

“Line.” The bouncer couldn’t be swayed, even with Yuri’s beauty.

Yuri looked at Baekhyun. “Baby, do something about this. Call him.”

“I-I—“ Baekhyun pulled his phone out of his pocket, nervous.

“Go make your call at the line. Don’t block the way,” said the bouncer.

“No, we’re going to stay here ‘till we meet our friend, Oh Sehun.”

“Get in line,” said the bouncer more firmly.

“C’mon, Yuri.” Baekhyun pulled Yuri’s elbow..

“But, Baekhyun.”

Then the bouncer suddenly smiled, stepped aside, and let a couple enter the club without even lining up. The man slid something on the bouncer’s jacket pocket—perhaps a tip—and patted the bouncer’s back as they entered the club.

“Baek, maybe you can bribe him,” Yuri suggested while she was getting dragged at the back of the line.

“No, we’re not gonna bribe anyone.”

They finally reached the end of the line. Yuri grunted in frustration. “But, baby, we’re going to take ages here. By the time we get in, it’ll be the closing time.” Then she asked, “Are you calling Sehun?”

“He’s not picking up.”

“Ugh. Maybe the music’s too loud inside.”

It was already 10:30 PM, Sehun had said 10 PM, yet Baekhyun and Yuri were still at the line, barely moving. Yuri was frustrated, and Baekhyun’s patience was also getting tested.

“Why isn’t he picking up?” Yuri complained.

Baekhyun clenched his jaws, also annoyed at Sehun. Annoyed being in line. Baekhyun then saw in his peripherals a tall vehicle cruising in the street. And a sudden relief washed over him in a wave when he saw that black G-Wagon that he once drove when was saving Sehun. This must be Sehun. It should be, he desperately thought, already pissed off standing outside for so long.

And without fail, a long legged man stepped out of the vehicle after parking his car on the other side of the street. It was Sehun. He was wearing a white button-up shirt over a black and white suit--half white and half black, and a pair of white slim dress pants that amplified his height.

“Oh, my god. That’s him, isn’t it?” Yuri moans, also relieved.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Sehun crossed the street, eyes on the bouncer, ready to enter without lining up.

“Sehun!” Yuri yelped out of desperation, raising her hand to get his attention. At this point, Baekhyun didn’t care if Yuri embarrassed them, he just wanted to come.

Sehun stopped from walking from a distance and turned his head to their direction. He narrowed his gaze, still not moving. Baekhyun threw his hand up, maybe Sehun could recognize them. And Sehun’s face relaxed after recognizing Baekhyun. He waved, signaling them to step forward to him. And it was such a relief to finally get out of the line.

“Hey!” Sehun greeted them when the couple reached them. “I almost forgot I invited you tonight. Have you been here long?”

“Yes—“ Yuri.

“No, we just got here, too,” Baekhyun lied out of politeness. Yuri glared at him.

“That’s good.”

“I thought you don’t like late people,” said Baekhyun.

Sehun scoffed. “This is the club, man. The later you are, the better.” Then Sehun paid attention to Baekhyun’s outfit. “What are you wearing?”

“What’s wrong?”

Sehun frowned, slightly shaking his head in disapproval. Then he looked at the people in the line and walked towards one of the people in the front. “Hey, how much would you take to trade with my friend’s jacket?” He asked a younger looking man about Baekhyun’s size in a sheen gray blazer.

“What?” The man exclaimed, confused.

“One hundred dollars?” Sehun asked even if the man didn’t understand Sehun’s question.

“Whose jacket?”

Sehun pointed at Baekhyun. “His. So $100?”

The man peeked at Baekhyun. “No, my suit’s not for sale.”

“One-eighty dollars?” Sehun offered higher, the man had gone silent.

“Tw-two hundred,” the man countered.

Sehun scoffed. “Two hundred?” He repeated, amazed by the man’s audacity as if Sehun wasn’t bold enough to ask for some stranger’s suit. “Fine.”

The man pursed his lips. And just like that, the man said, “Deal.”

Sehun snapped his fingers at Baekhyun who was standing behind him, Baekhyun immediately understood so he removed his tacky jacket and exchanged it for the better-looking suit.

“Come,” then Sehun said, walking back to the bouncer with the couple, after giving the man some money. Then Sehun placed a hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder after Baekhyun put on the suit. “I like my associates to look presentable in front of my friends.”

Baekhyun only listened, then Sehun walked past by him to face the bouncer. “They’re with me,” Sehun said. The bouncer did not say anything and unhook the velvet rope to let them enter. Sehun quickly shook the bouncer’s hand and patted his back. “Thanks, Taec.”

Loud music drowned the noise from the outside when they entered the dark place, and lights only came in the flashes off the dance floor. The club was packed. Conversations were only possible by screaming. Sehun led the way, followed by Yuri, and Baekhyun was holding Yuri’s hand while they walked past the jammed crowd.

Baekhyun leaned to Yuri’s ear and shouted, “Aren’t you cold?” It was also ice cold inside and Yuri was wearing clothes that revealed too much of her skin.

“No, I’m fine,” Yuri shouted back while they followed Sehun. “I’m going to drink anyway,” she added.

Sehun then stepped to a staircase leading to the second floor of the nightclub. Baekhyun had never been into the second floor of any nightclub since couches and tables were usually much more expensive to pay for due to its exclusivity (if they wanted a much more private place). He barely even sat into any couches on the first floor, he and his friends only paid for the high tables—those without chairs (so they only stood)—when he used to go out at nightclubs. Music was much less harsh on the second floor so they didn’t have to use all of their voices to talk. And it was also much less packed. They could overlook the dance floor from above.

Sehun finally stopped in front of a table with a U-shaped couch, and people in that table began to greet him.

“Hey, man!” Sehun did a man handshake with a man that seemed to be as tall as Baekhyun. And Sehun did another with a man taller than Sehun that could reach him. The table was almost full with men and women in it.

Sehun stepped back to present Baekhyun and Yuri to the table. Sehun patted Baekhyun’s chest, “This is Byun Baekhyun,” he looked at Yuri, “and his girlfriend, Yuri.”

Baekhyun and Yuri received Heys and smiles.

“These are my friends,” Sehun gestured at each man at the table, “Lay, Kris, Tao, Luhan, and Kyungsoo. Also known as…?” He drawled, smirking at the table, waiting for them to complete his sentence.

“BBC!” The men in the table shouted proudly.

“BBC?” Yuri asked innocently.

“Billionaire Boys Club,” Sehun answered smugly. Yuri’s mouth opened. Even Baekhyun was in surprise.

“Hey, Sehun, how much is your net worth again?” A narrow shouldered man questioned provokingly.

“Oooh,” A blonde man reacted at the take.

“Very funny, Kyungsoo,” Sehun yapped, then mocked, “Hey, I heard your family is taking it hard with the stocks down.”

A man reached for the man named Kyungsoo’s shoulder and sympathetically patted them with a heavy hand while Kyungsoo’s eyes stayed round open.

Sehun scoffed then he gestured at the women at the table. “And, of course, these are their girlfriends.” But not everyone seemed to have brought a girlfriend since the number of women in the table isn’t proportional to the number of men. There were only three women besides Yuri.

People at the table cramped themselves to give seats for them. Yuri sat first, followed by Baekhyun, then Sehun sat last, sitting at the end of the couch. Best seat, in Baekhyun’s opinion— easy to get out of the table. The people in the table were wearing such colorful and patterned suits, women wearing intricate hairstyles and strong make ups. Baekhyun and Yuri were totally underdressed. But nobody seemed to pay attention but themselves.

“So, what do you do?” A woman shouted from the other end of the couch, asking Baekhyun.

Baekhyun suddenly felt intimidated with eyes all on him. He didn’t want to answer the question, especially if he would shout it across the table.

“He works for me,” Sehun answered for him. Then adds, “And why do you care?”

The woman arched her brows sassily—her cheeks already pink, her eyes already in a daze, drunk. “I just wanted to know.” Then she looked at Baekhyun as if evaluating him from face to his upper torso. And Baekhyun felt he was being judged, especially with how simple he looked.

Sehun then put two shot glasses in front of Baekhyun and Yuri and poured them with Absolut vodka that was already opened on top of the table. It seemed like the people on the table had been there fairly long with the half empty bottles and glasses scattered across the table. “Drink up,” said Sehun. Sehun only poured himself a glass of champagne. Yuri took the shot. And Baekhyun didn’t even think about it twice, he also took the shot. After the frustration he felt at the line, a shot of vodka felt deserved.

“What time did you land and you weren’t able to come to my party?” Sehun asked a tall man with black hair and hawk eyes who sat at the center of the chair who had a girl around his arm.

“I landed this noon,” he yelled over the loud music.

Sehun only nodded as a response while he sipped his champagne. Then he leaned over to Baekhyun’s ear and said loudly but not loud enough for everyone to hear, “The girl on his arm is not his wife. It’s his girlfriend.”

“What?” Baekhyun screamed. And after the buffer, he understood what Sehun had said. “He’s cheating?” He screamed in Sehun's ear.

“Don’t talk too loud!” Sehun shouted.

“But I can’t hear you!”

Then Sehun put a finger on his lip, smirking, shushing Baekhyun. One shot after another, Baekhyun could feel his body heating up but his mind was still sharp, he thought. People at the table laughed and talked loudly. Baekhyun and Yuri tried to socialize with them, especially Yuri, who was taking shot after shot—tasting all the alcohol in the table. And she was already looking red.

People were standing outside their table, minding their own business—partying, dancing, flirting, and whatnot.

Sehun was standing in front of a table with a glass of champagne at one hand, telling a story about a trip he had years ago. The hawked-eye man, Tao, complained that he had heard this story from Sehun, but Sehun liked telling his stories, so they had to endure him.

Some in the table were minding their own business, some were listening to Sehun, like Baekhyun and Yuri.

Baekhyun’s eyes then travelled to a pale white skin woman in black minidress with see-through sleeves who might pass by their table. Her hair was neatly ponytailed, her lips alluring red, and she wasn’t wearing too much makeup. Baekhyun thought she looked beautiful and elegant. And to his surprise, the woman stopped at their table, and that was also when a tall man in black suit and pants emerged from the dim lights who was with the woman. Baekhyun noticed that they were holding hands.

Sehun was in the middle of talking when the woman (or couple) stopped, and Sehun found himself somewhat dumbstruck.

The couple smiled and waved at the table, and people seemed to be delighted to see the couple with their cheerful greetings. Some threw their hands up to wave at them. The blonde hair man, Luhan, did a manly handshake with the tall and tanned man in black who was with the woman.

“Nayeon,” said Sehun, staring at the woman. Baekhyun noticed from the side that the woman’s dress was also backless, flaunting her white skin.

The woman turned her head to Sehun and quickly smiled. “Sehun.”

Sehun leaned forward to air-kiss the woman and gazed at her. “Beautiful as always.”

The woman chuckled gracefully, and Baekhyun thought that looked beautiful. She smiled, “It’s good to see you, Sehun.”

“It’s good to see you.”

Then the man with the woman interrupted, handing over his hand to Sehun, and called his name, “Sehun.”

Sehun hesitated to take the man’s hand for a shake, but then later took it, “Jongin.” They did a quick but firm handshake. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The tall man named Jongin smirked and chuckled, ignoring Sehun. Then he assisted the woman by holding her back to sit at the other side of the couch.

Sehun went from nonstop talking to a suddenly composed man. He unbuttoned his suit as he sat next to Baekhyun opposite the couple. He then leaned to Kyungsoo, who sat at the corner, next to Yuri and said, “Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?”

“They told us the last minute!” Kyungsoo answered loudly.

Sehun hissed, shaking his head, and sat straight. He leaned to Baekhyun, eyes glued at the woman, and said, “That, my friend, is my ex-lover—Park Nayeon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Let me tell you something,” he pointed a finger at Baekhyun so Baekhyun leaned closer, “A real keeper, she is. I was serious about her.”

Baekhyun was in slight surprise to know about this information about him. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Sehun scoffed, repeating Baekhyun’s question. “What happened—well, you know women. I don’t understand why she’d go with that small dick Jongin when I’m the total package.” He poured himself a glass of Johnnie Walker gold label and drank it in one shot.

Baekhyun looked at the couple across the table. Jongin’s hand was resting at the backrest of the couch, while Nayeon was leaning against his chest while they chatted with Luhan who was sitting next to them. “They look good,” said Baekhyun.

Sehun scoffed, cocking a brow in disapproval. Then he took his flute glass of champagne, leaning his elbow against the backrest of the couch. “Jongin!” He yelled. But Jongin didn’t hear him over the loud music. “Jongin!” Sehun yelled again and everyone’s attention was at Sehun’s.

The man in black suit and black silk button-up that showed his chest and collarbones raised his brows after hearing his name.

“Why are you always in black? Are you some sort of grim reaper or something? Are you going to kill someone?” Sehun scoffed and laughed, looking across the table. Some also laughed with him. Baekhyun nervously chuckled.

The woman with him, Nayeon, pulled Jongin’s inner arm to whisper something to him. However, Sehun and Jongin locked eyes at each other intensely.

“I didn’t see you in fashion week in Paris last two weeks,” Sehun shouted, somehow changing the topic yet their eyes were telling differently with their dead stares. Even Baekhyun could feel the tension that was exuding. “I thought I’d see you in Versace’s show.”

“We were at Pilati’s,” Jongin answered, composed.

Sehun squinted one eye, leaning forward, as if he didn’t hear what Jongin had said over the music. “Who?”

“Pilati.”

“Who?”

“I think he said Pilati,” Baekhyun said to Sehun.

“We were at Stefano Pilati’s show, Sehun,” Nayeon said loudly to Sehun.

“Pilati, oh! Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Sehun said directly at the male. Sehun scoffed, “No wonder.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” The tallest man with the deepest voice in the table, Kris, clapped his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. “We’re having a good time here, a’right?”

Sehun took a deep breath and so did the man on the other side and looked at his woman. Sehun finished his drink with a bitter face.

“How ‘bout we make a toast, a’right? For a good life?” Kris raised his glass of champagne, and a lot followed him with their own variety of drinks. “A lot of us haven’t seen each other for a while. Let’s bury what’s in the past, and be grateful for what's now, you sons of billionaire bitches.” People at the table laughed, easing the tense atmosphere with Kris’s short speech.

“Cheers to that!” Shouted Lay.

“Cheers!” Most people exclaimed, Baekhyun did so timidly.

Baekhyun totally ate his words about not drinking since people kept pouring his glass and yet he didn’t ever refuse a single shot. How could he? What power did he have to refuse such powerful people? Yuri was becoming louder after every shot and was becoming friendly with Lay, his girlfriend, and Kyungsoo.

“Yuri.” Baekhyun held Yuri’s waist from behind, feeling protective over her.

But Sehun then wrapped his arm around Baekhyun’s neck and pulled Baekhyun to him. His cologne was strong, and in the influence of alcohol, his cologne smelled stronger, amplifying all of his senses. Everyone started to look attractive, everyone started to sound funny. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Y-Yeah. Thanks for inviting us.” Baekhyun cleared his throat. “Why did you invite us anyway?”

Sehun released Baekhyun from his arms. “Why can’t you be just grateful, Baekhyun?”

“No, I’m grateful. Thank you, Mr. Oh.”

Sehun guffawed, slamming one hand at the table. “Mr. Oh.” He shook his head, still laughing, wiping a fake tear off of his eye. “You’re way too serious, man. Anyway,” he lightly slapped Baekhyun’s chest, “How was it?”

“How was what?”

Sehun glanced at Yuri, cocking his brows, then his eyes travelled back to Baekhyun. Baekhyun immediately understood. But before Baekhyun could speak, Sehun said, “Have you found your true colors?”

Baekhyun wasn’t expecting that type of question. “What do you mean?”

Sehun leaned closer to Baekhyun, “I mean whom did you enjoy more—me or her?”

“What?” Baekhyun’s eyes were wide in horror. “What type of question is that?”

“You’re always so defensive, you’re too obvious.”

“How am I defensive?”

However, Sehun changed the question, “So how did it feel like to be inside a woman? Great?”

Baekhyun evaluated his experience with Yuri. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.”

Sehun scoffed. “I know. Fuck,” he grunted, cocking his head, as if he’s suddenly turned on. Then he asked, “Did you make her cry?”

Baekhyun raised a brow. “Cry?”

Sehun patted Baekhyun’s thigh heavily. “You, my friend, are gifted. Unlike this motherfucker,” he quickly pointed a finger across the table, pointing to the male in black talking to his woman as if the couple were the only people in the world with their eyes glimmering at each other. “That needle dick, Jongin,” he hissed. Then he looked back at Baekhyun, “I feel sad for her. Really.”

“Maybe it’s not all about the size.”

Sehun howled. “Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun. I know lots of people who would kneel for someone like you.”

“People?”

“Women… and men.”

Baekhyun’s face was in utter disgust. “What the fuck?”

“You’re not glad to hear that? It’s a huge compliment.” He pulled his Juuls that he was holding to his mouth and inhaled a deep smoke. He offered the tiny, sleek e-cigarette to Baekhyun if he wanted a smoke but Baekhyun declined as Sehun puffed the smoke out of his mouth and hose. It smelled fruity. “You don’t want it? It keeps your head straight with all these booze.”

Sure, Baekhyun’s head was all over the place but he didn’t feel he needed the smoke.

Sehun then smirked at Baekhyun, “That face you’re wearing is certainly not the face you had when I was inside you.”

Baekhyun’s face went blank. How should he feel about that?

Sehun stood up from his seat, he didn’t seem he had a lot of drinks as he still could stand straight and button his suit. He then told Baekhyun, “Come with me.”

A/N:��Real sorry for the slow (and super sloppy) updates :-( But do let me know your thoughts, send notes, it does make me remember that I have to update this. Thank you!

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r-ahh-mi · 5 years ago

Text

Homecoming

Warnings: Smut. 18+. Other than that, this is just a massive dose of fluff.

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Rami is left sifting his mind through an interview during a long press tour of the world that is drawing out far too long for his liking. After months of being away from any sort of familiarity, he begins to miss the very human being who makes him feel at home.

There was a small buzzing..or humming-like sound ringing through my ears. The humming was occasionally reaching new octaves and levels of intensity and calm, as if it was riding a very bumpy wave, but suddenly the hum was loud and staccato; repeating itself another two times before a small pinch of pain seared through my shoulder until the sound was no longer catching my attention. I winced, moving my hand in an instant to the warmth on my arm-only then did I recall just where I was and what I was doing and why I had been so rudely nudged by the person sat next to me.

Press tours were never my cup of tea. The first couple stops were fine because the questions were new and fresh and my responses were genuine and filled with real emotion, but after having to repeat a story three times, four times..ten times. It’s dull and my words begin to lose their value of genuine excitement and amusement that it once held. This interview was just like that.

The main cast, myself included, were nearing the end of our dreadfully long press tour that had wrapped itself around the globe, thus making the travel extensive and for long periods of time. And to be completely frank, I missed my bed, I missed my dog, but what, or should I say who I missed the most was my wife.

We’d never gone this long without seeing one another and I knew it was taking a tremendous toll on me and her both, though she was quick to hide it. I knew she wasn’t one to need me around every waking moment, but by the solemn tone of her voice everytime we said goodbye from our nightly phone or facetime call and whenever I told her about something amusing that happened in my day, her smile just wasn't the ‘grin and bear it’ one I was craving to be in the same room as and to smooth away with a kiss that lingered. It was small and slightly even sad, as if she wanted to badly be experiencing the same casual amusements I was seeing everyday.

I could feel myself falling back into my own head--the voices were blurring together again and the high pitched buzzing was seeping through my ears as I was beginning to be consumed with my thoughts again.

“Rami?”

Again, the pinching electrocuted a response out of me as I mumbled an ‘ow!’, and looked in the direction of the co star sat next to me who was looking at me with a less than friendly expression on their face.

I looked around the room and noted that everyone, and I mean everyone, was staring at me. Some looking annoyed, but most just looking expectant.

“Would you like me to repeat the question Mr. Malek?”

My eyes focused on the nicely dressed female as she looked at me nervously while I attempted to re-compose myself.

“Yes-s”, I stuttered, but was quick to get myself back on track. “Yes please.”

Though I didn’t really want her to. Lord knows she would only mutter out a question I’d already heard dozens of times and answered with less than the acceptable amount of enthusiasm.

“I asked if you were missing home at all; I’ve heard it’s much warmer in the states right now than it is here. I’d assume you’d be a bit home sick right now.”

To my surprise, this question was much much different from the others, in fact it’s the first time any member of the press seemed to show a glimmer of sympathy or interest in my personal well being as opposed to wanting further knowledge of this movie I was promoting. It took me a second to respond, though not too many ticking moments or else I feared I’d receive another twing from a rather bony elbow in my side.

“I do miss home, very much actually. Very excited to be in my home with my wife in the next couple days.”

The interviewers eyes seemed to light up, both with excitement of the prospects of a topic to talk about and something else that seemed to make a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sure it can be tough being apart from your partner for that long. How do you cope with that?”

I shrugged, what we did was anything but coping or ‘getting by’. We made it work tremendously well and, for the most part, I have her to thank for that. She was quick to keep me grounded and even more quick to assure me that mentally I was still the down to earth boy she’d met twelve years ago who was just in the beginning stages of his career as an actor. She supported me then, she supports me now; there was never a push from her for me to do something different and I never pressured her to accept this lifestyle that I had thrown her in to, yet she did so with an overgrowing ease.

“It can be tough, but nothing we can’t handle. We’ve known each other for too long to let much get to us.”

“Surely there has to be some discourse in-”

I shook my head as my patience seemed to fly out the window much quicker than it usually did. Lack of sleep could’ve been the easy option, but what really seemed to get my ticking was this interviewer quickly shuffling from a sweet question to a comment that was seeking out drama and gossip--you know, things to actually assist them in selling their shitty writing.

“She’s great, truly she is,'' I interjected the woman’s long spiel. “Not everything is easy, but we are doing more than okay in our relationship and she’s the best person I can think of for me to share my life with.”

A couple of my co stars ��awed’ dramatically as they patted my shoulder. I smiled in recognition, but couldn’t help but feel odd for doing the simple task that was loving and actually enjoying the person I chose to spend the rest of my life with.

“Do you have any children?”

“No”, I shook my head, “no children yet.”

“Yet?” The female interviewer quirked her eyebrow as I nibbled on my lip, holding in a smile that was threatening to spill all the way up to my cheeks.

“Yes, not quite yet.”

“So children are definitely on the table for you in the future?”

I nodded matter of factly as I thought back to the conversation me and her had prior to getting married--baby names, preferred genders, and possible nursery themes. We both saw eye to eye on nearly everything, although, the thing that was of utmost importance to me was having a healthy baby with this woman who, at that point in my life, I hadn’t even gotten the courage to ask to marry me just quite yet.

“Yeah, we absolutely want them in the future. Just waiting for everything to settle down a bit first.”

After that, the conversation seemed to shift to my co stars as the interviewer asked each of them some personal questions that weren’t much different to the ones she asked me. Of course, my busy, busy mind didn’t pay much attention once I knew that I had been asked the questions needed for this interview and I was happy that my mind was free to wander a bit more.

However, I wasn’t awarded the same freedom to think happy thoughts as I was just before the interviewer brought her attention to my personal life. Instead, now all I could think about was her and it was setting in just how god damn much I missed her. She was my partner, but most of all she was my best friend and no one enjoys being apart from their best friend for long. It’s as if a chunk of you is just missing or far away and I wanted nothing more than to cuddle it firmly against my chest and forget about the weighing lonesomeness I was feeling for her.

Eventually, the interview was over and I was free to go back to my hotel room and do as I pleased with the rest of my day. The rest of my castmates had settled on having a bit of an outing with it being our last day in an exotic location that the tour had taken us to and of course I was invited, but I just didn’t feel up to it. I would rather go back to my hotel room and bask in the sullen feelings and order some severely overpriced room service.

As soon as I slid my card into the slot and unlocked my hotel room door, I kicked the uncomfortable leather loafers to the side and reached for the phone set in my pocket as I began distracting myself with the email and text notifications displayed on my lock screen.

As I traveled to the bathroom, I found myself puzzled that I hadn’t heard from her, my wife, in quite some time. Usually she would send me a text whenever she woke up, but as I did the math in my head to compare our time differences, she would have woken up hours ago. I sent her a brief ‘love and miss you baby’ text and set my phone down on the counter as I stripped down to my briefs and shuffled my legs into some much comfier sweatpants.

I began to think about how I would spend the rest of my day; watching a movie or tv show, reading a book, because I never had time to read anymore, or maybe sleeping. Sleeping sounded like the most plausible option, seeing as I rarely got it these days, so I mentally prepared myself for the comfortable awaiting hotel sheets I would be swaddled on top of in just a moment.

But as soon as my eyes looked up and onto my bed, I nearly choked on the sharp and unexpected amount of air I had taken in. Such a reaction was bound to happen when one saw a human form lounging comfortably on their bed. Of course, the second I saw the figure the first thing I thought was to protect myself, but the moment I took in the familiar colored hair, skin, body type, and the faintest of smell, I felt anything but the opposite of crisis mode.

Instantly my shoulders slumped back down to their relaxed positions as I stared at her in disbelief. She smiled cockily—typical—as she watched me just stand there, owl eyed and ridden with shock, but the moment my mind and body seemed to process that my wife, of whom I hadn’t seen in months—god, so many fucking months—was laying on my hotel bed in a country that she was not meant to be in, I lunged for her instantly.

One could compare it to a linebackers tackle as I flung my arms around her, latched my legs to fit on top of hers, and snuggled into her side. She giggled briefly as she returned my fierce hug with just as much, if not more, power and for a couple minutes we just stayed latched on to one another.

I buried my face deep into her neck, smelling the floral accent from her favorite shampoo and id never craved a stereotypical feminine scent so much in my entire life until this very moment as I pressed a simple, sweet kiss to her neck. She giggled some more as her fingertips began to lightly trace up and down my arm and I couldn’t help myself any longer as I pulled my face up so I could have a better look at the face that I recently saw via my phone screen, but hadn’t seen or touched in person in months.

I took her in, making little notes of all the similarities and differences from the last time I saw that gorgeous face of hers, but even more than that, I loved being able to trace my thumb along her cheek again as I cupped the side of her face in my palm. She leaned Into my touch, the way she always had done, and brought her hand up to rest atop mine while her thumb rang along the mountains my knuckle bones created on my hands.

“How are you even here right now?”

Instantly, her lips twitched up into a large grin and I could only hope that she was pleased to hear the sound of my voice as I had been to hear her laugh again.

“I was able to get some time off of work and I didn’t feel like waiting a couple more days to see you.”

“So you just hopped on a plane without telling me?”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes following the same kind of movement as her grin turned back into that sly, beautiful smirk. “Yep.”

Without hesitation I propped myself up on one elbow and moved my mouth to hers in a long, soothing kiss and it was almost like I was being teleported back to the very moment we first pressed our lips together. I relished in the taste of her mouth as our lips started working against one another until my body began to fall into rhythm as I rolled on top of her, letting my weight fall completely onto my arms which held me up above her form. The moment I felt her one hand fall on top of my back, that warmth shot through my body as if her fingertips had an electric current pulsing through them just waiting to zap me.

Though I wanted to take my time cherishing every moment and inch of her, I was also terribly filled with a lust that I hadn’t been able to fully quench in the last one hundred or so days. She was the only one who would be able to fulfill me in such a manor like that, I was positive, so I didn’t waste anytime removing her clothing from her until she was left in nothing but a pair of panties that seemed much too fancy to just be everyday underwear.

I’d be sure to give her shit about that later, but for now I wanted to appreciate them, appreciate her as much as possible.

As I moved a stray hair to safely rest back into its proper place with the other strands of hair, I couldn’t help but notice the beauty that was her. Sure, she was physically stunning, but she was much more than outwardly beautiful to me. She was filled with joy, sarcasm, whit, and intelligence that was remarkable and beyond anything I had ever seen in anyone before.

“I’m flattered by your staring, but it’s getting creepy.”

I rolled my eyes at her comment and playfully nudged my nose against her cheek, feeling the swell of her bare breasts press against me as I continued nudging her face with the tip of my nose until she was in a fit of giggles, but her noises seemed to decrease in volume as I began moving my lips delicately in a downward fashion along her skin.

I let my lips linger for long as I found the nape of her neck, letting my teeth gently graze against her skin before I’d bring the slickness of my mouth and tongue against her sweet smelling body. Her hands gripped my back much firmer than before as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her body beginning to subtly move against mine every now and again.

I noticed her breath becoming louder and faster as my hands began to palm at her chest- the silky smooth skin felt as if I was grasping the finest of materials in my hand as my thumb glided smoothly to flick over her taut nipple, making her body instantly grind itself against mine and causing me to suck in a sharp and nearly painful breath.

If this is how she was making me feel now, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like once I was intimately cradling her form as close to mine as possible while we both moved within one another. To be that close to her again was something I had been craving an ungodly amount and now that I was feeling her, tasting her skin, and hearing her make the most lust filled and pleasured noises, I was nearly thanking god for this time apart that made me that much more grateful to be as close and intimate with someone that I truly and utterly loved with everything I had.

I maneuvered my body down from her collarbones until my trail took me to her chest. I didn’t dare leave the upper half of her body until I left a teasing kiss with the slightest bit of sucking to her hardened nipple as it was kissed by the cool air. She responded exactly as I thought she would, muttering a ‘fuck’ that couldn’t have been louder than a whisper, as she let her relaxed hands slip from my back to my neck. And when my mouth hovered just a bit above the warmth between her legs, I could feel her fingers curl within my hair as she waited in anticipation and I didn’t leave her hanging for long.

My mouth grazed along the fabric of her panties, mouthing and teasing at the material while grazing my teeth along the nicely trimmed lace that was fit perfectly to her body. She voluntarily spread her legs further apart as I wrapped one of my arms around her thigh, keeping it still until I moved the thin material away from her core. Her wetness was immediately visible to me which made the stiffening in my groin begin to pulsate as it became more and more consumed with sensitivity.

I seemed like a magnet to her as my mouth instantly fell to her lower lips, dipping the tip of my tongue gently between her folds as I gave a long lick to her core that made her body twitch ever so slightly beneath my touch.

I let myself enjoy her more as I began leaving flat tongued licks to her small bundle of nerves and playing them up with either quick flicks of the tongue or slow, nearly achining movements.

She moaned out my name as I continued tasting her and I felt her hand slowly slither down to rest on top of my hand that was laying on her thigh. I let my hand switch places to rest next to hers as I intertwined our fingers, all the while, my mouth proceeded to please her body. Her hips were stirring lightly with every flick of my tongue, but her hips became almost uncontrollable as I puckered my lips and began sucking mercilessly on her clit.

She was writhing and squirming with every gasp she could fathom up. Her hand was squeezing mine harshly as our fingers still remained intertwined until it was evident that she was hitting her climax. Her hips moved against my mouth and loud moans breached from her mouth as she grinded her body and I sucked and licked her up for as long as I knew it was pleasurable to her—until I felt her body relax back down into the mattress and her thumb start lightly tracing the divets of my hand again.

I pulled my face up and the first thing I saw was her bashful glow as she looked up at me with red cheeks and a thin layer of sweat glazed across her forehead.

“Well, that was quick,” I joked as I sat back up, but she didn’t seem too thrilled with my better attempt at humor as she brought her had up to lightly smack me along the arm.

“Hey!,” I winced.

“You deserved it! One-hundred percent deserved that Rami!”

I couldn’t help but let out a long string of silent chuckles as I held my hand to my heart in an attempt to calm myself, but she had a much better way of bringing me back to the situation.

Her legs, once again, became tangled up around my waist as she pulled my body downwards and luckily I caught myself with my arms to hold up my spare weight and not crush her.

We both smiled at one another as I combed my fingers through her hair, making the locks fan out across her head like a halo encapsulating her face.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Though my words seemed cliche and maybe they were, they held my inner most true feelings for this stunning creature below me that still managed to keep me memorized.

“Shut up,'' she said between a laugh and a smile as she used her hand to push my head down towards her and press our lips together.

This time the kiss was much more heated and less simple and sweet. It was passionate and loving and sexy all rolled into a glorious triad as we began to get lost and found all at the same time as we fell into our old rhythm of being intimate with one another. Naturally, our bodies began to move against one another, causing me to elicit a sort of primal noise as I pressed my mouth even further against her lips.

We stayed like that for awhile; me pressing my hips down into hers, her responding immediately by pressing her hips upwards until we met in the middle and gave each other the friction we were teasing one another with. However, once she started whimpering against my lips, I couldn’t help myself anymore. I just wanted to feel her as close as humanly possible and I wasn’t letting me or her deprive ourselves of it any longer.

I sat my body up with my weight balanced on my knees while my hands began to busy themselves as they smoothed down the middle of her chest, down her stomach, and to the top of her panties. She assisted me by pressing her thighs together and lifting her bent knees and hips in the air to allow me to roll the fabric off of her hips and down her legs until I was tossing the flimsiness to the ground.

I began to reach down towards the waist of my sweatpants and slip the fabric off of my lower half until I too was left just as bare as she was. Then, I felt her delicate fingers dance along my stomach--I hadn’t noticed until now that she had sat up and must’ve watched me shimmy out of my remaining clothing items, but she seemed to be enjoying herself quite nicely as she traced the indents of my stomach muscles until she was skating her fingertips across the line of hair resting against my lower stomach.

I’m sure she felt as my body tensed with pleasure beneath her, but it didn’t keep her from losing track of her trail ahead. Her hands moved to my hips, letting both of them feel the deeply carved indents that created an upside triangle shape into my skin, but her touch didn’t stay there for long. One of her hands remained on my hip, keeping me grounded, as her other one moved to exactly where I wanted her to touch me the most and I couldn’t help but sigh loudly at the feeling of her palm wrapped tightly around me.

I began to close my eyes, relishing in this much missed feeling and loving that she was the one making me feel this pleasure, but I was also more than ready, both physically and mentally, to feel her to the fullest extent. Quickly, I opened my eyes back up and gently placed my hands on top of hers as I slowly pinned her hands to the mattress.

“You really, really missed me, huh?,” she taunted as she playfully stuck her tongue out from between her teeth.

I shook my head as I resumed back into my position of hovering over her and without saying a word, I grabbed ahold of my member and pressed it against her wetness. Instantly, her playful smirk was replaced with squinted eyes and lips pressed together as she held in a noise that surely was threatening to vibrate off of the paper thin walls.

I started off slow, making sure that we were both comfortable with one another, as I slide inside of her with one paced motion. Her nails instantly dug into my arms as she threw her head back in pleasure, finally letting out a noise that was more than pleasing to both my ears and my hardening member. I let myself fall backwards, nearly slipping completely out of her before I repeated the motion and once I could tell she was enjoying this just as much as I was, I created a steady rhythm for the both of us.

Our foreheads were nearly touching as I thrust my hard cock into her, this time with a little more force, but nothing rough in nature. She seemed more than pleased as she moved her hips upward to meet my movements and I couldn’t help but laugh quietly to myself. Maybe she really, really missed me too, huh?

I could tell she was nearly close to reaching her climax already, but holding off and I was doing the exact same. She was clenching all around me and, my god, the noises she was making alone surely could’ve gotten me there; I wanted nothing more than to finish off and feel that pleasure that she always made me reach, but savoring this closeness and intimacy with her was much more important to me right now. I began to slow my movements down just slightly and she took note of this as she looked at me with the slightest bit of concern that screamed “what's wrong”.

My eyes softened at the comforting look on her face as she brought one of her hands up to my sweaty cheek.

“You okay?”

“Perfect actually.” She looked less than satisfied with my answer as her eyes blinked quickly--she couldn’t have looked more adorable if she had tried.

“Just want to enjoy this as long as I can,” I somehow was able to mutter, though it was surely smothered in heavy breaths and spaced out words.

She partially nodded as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, “Told ya you missed me”.

Of course I missed her and of course I missed this, but I knew she was merely tugging at her ego and letting me know that she was still the sarcastic, beautiful woman that I fell in love with years ago. And truly, she was just that-- I couldn’t have been happier to be so deeply immersed and in love with a human being than her if I tried.

Tag: @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @amcquivey @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @rogers-wristbands @deacytits @ramimedley

#ramimalek #rami malek #rami malek fic #rami malek smut #rami malek fluff

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teamdoubleoh · 4 years ago

Text

Angels of Death

pt. 2/2 pt. 1/2

Bond and Moneypenny are requested as bodyguard for her highness, the duchess of Sussex, Morgana Pendragon.

OR: Q and Bond are snarky and married, Eve has a crush and Morgana is fabulous

wordcount: 3470

Bond was a good spy.

Despite what everyone seemed to think, he knew what he was doing most of the time and was always sure to take the best course of action. Well, from his perspective. He was a professional.

He was also currently sitting in M’s office grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Mallory sighed. "Do you see any problems 007?."

"Not at all sir." Bond answered honestly, still smiling widely.

"Alright. I expect you ready in three hours maximum. Ask Q-branch to lend you one of the good cars. We don’t want to make a bad impression."

Right. A good impression with the royal family. The one he had sworn his life to. For King and Country, that was his vow. Bond snorted. Q bas going to love this.

***

Ten minutes later Bond was standing with Q and Eve at the far end of Q-branch, disappointed but not surprised with the standard com system as well as a palm coded Walther PPK. “And I thought you loved me dear Q. What do I have to do to make me an exploding pen, hm? Dinner? Some special favours?” he murmured in Q’s ear while putting in the com and securing the Walther in the shoulder holster.

“We’re married, James.” Q answered deadpan. He was reading the mission file while Eve enjoyed a cup of Q-branch's coffee. "It seems to be a standart body guarding mission. Keep the target safe and try not to get shot until absolutely inevitable. The one difference is that you're protecting royalty and that it’s our royalty."

Eve sipped on her coffee and sighed in delight, before taking a look at the mission parameters. "Why isn't MI5 handling this one?"

"Apparently all of their agents are busy right now. And James’ next mission is only in two months. Thats probably why they chose him."

"-Aaaand because I’m such a good agent."

"James, you almost laughed out loud in Mallory's office earlier. No one laughs in Mallory's office." commented Eve, rolling her eyes.

Q shuffled trough the papers. "Well, the target is a royal so you better be a good agent, or there's no pudding for a week. Mummy doesn't want that kind of drama." Q frowned, as if that was the only concern about a member of the royal family being shot.

"I'll take care." James assured him.

"Who’s Mummy?" Eve asked, clearly confused.

Q smiled. "I’ll introduce you some time, she’ll like you. So. The target’s name is Morgana Pendragon --"

Eve chocked on her coffee. After half a minute of spluttering she could finally manage words again. "Q, my platonical soulmate, did you just say James is going to protect the unknowing love of my life, Morgana Pendragon? And the assignment is today?"

"Yes. Now, if you’ll let me finish I’ll reorganise some stuff so Mallory sends you with James. The pining has to stop, you’re better than this."

Eve looked like she might want to say something, but didn’t.

"So. Morgana Pendragon, second in line to the throne. You will accompany her to the opening of a new hospital. You're supposed to be at the palace at 1400, so you've got almost three more hours. You’ll need passes, but I can organise those." Q overflew the rest of file but found nothing of interest. “Alright. You two better go get ready. I'll talk to M. Be back in two hours and I'll issue you one of the fancy cars. I bet Mallory wants us to make a good impression.”

***

Q gave them the Aston. Bond hummed “You are my sunshine” while Eve, wearing matching black dress pants and blazer, put her own Walther in the shoulder holster.

“I didn’t know there was a Walther registered to my name and palmprint...” She mused, when Q handed it to her together with a com system.

“There isn’t.” He smiled ever so slightly. “At least as far as the database is concerned.”

She grinned. “This is why we’re friends Q.” She put in her com and shrugged on the blazer.

“Really? I thought it was because I made you those.” He said pointing down at her shoes. They were red lacquer high heels. Chic. And had knives hidden inside them.

She put her head to one side. “I mean, you’re not wrong. I also value your ability to take no shit.”

Q laughed.

Bond, who was wearing a blue grey Tom Ford suit - his second favourite, Q realised - was finally done with his inspection of the Aston Martin. “Moneypenny, are you done flirting with the Quartermaster?”

Eve only rolled her eyes. “No wonder it took us so long to figure out you were married. Look at that idiot.”

Q shrugged. “Well, I hate to say this, but we literally exchanged rings in the middle of Q-branch. Thats not what I call ‘figuring it out’, especially if you take into account that we weren’t even hiding anything. We thought you knew.”

“We’re flirting all the time.” Bond chimed in.

Eve rolled her eyes. “What you call flirting, is beyond normal understanding.”

Bond grinned. “You hurt me Moneypenny.”

“You do realise you only twenty minutes left to get to the palace.” Q stated absentmindedly while fastening freshly printed ID’s to ribbons. “And don’t forget these.”

Within the minute the Aston was on the road.

***

The butler had asked them to wait. After Eve had spent the entire drive gushing anxiously - a behaviour highly unusual for her - about the possibility of being late, they were now waiting. At least the palace was warmer than the Aston, who didn’t get much warmer than the usual Q-brach temperature of 18°C during their short drive through the cold December air.

Maybe the duchess was a busier person than they’d thought. Maybe she was just fashionably late.

Bond was standing in the middle of the room like he owned the place, Eve to his right. The entire room was decorated in golds and reds - the traditional pendragon colours. Since there was only a couch and a coffee table it was safe to assume the room was meant for greeting guests, which seemed like a spectacular waste of space, but such were the perks of royalty.

After nine minutes of waiting the door at the far end of the room finally opened.

Morgana Pendragon was taller than Bond. That was the first thing he noticed. Then Eve went stiff beside him and he decided it would be better if he did the talking.

Q seemed to have the same idea. “Bond you're in charge. Eve, you can flirt later in the car.”

Bond took a step forward and extended his hand in greeting. “Your majesty.”

Morgana took it. Her handshake was surprisingly firm. “Please, Morgana or Ms. Pendragon, if you must.”

Bond smiled amicably. “Commander Bond.”

“Commander?” Morgana lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Formerly of the Royal Navy.”

“And now?”

“MI6.”

Morgana’s eyes sparkled as she smiled. “Really, how intriguing. My Brother-in-Law works there too.”

Q chuckled over com. “Really now. Well, you should get going the event is going to start in less than an hour and you have to drive slowly because of temperature.”

Bond and Eve took simultaneously a step backwards and Bond gestured towards the door they had entered trough. “Shall we?”

***

Bond took the drivers seat and hummed “you are my sunshine” under his breath, leaving Eve and Morgana to converse on the backseat, Morgana on the right as was traditional.

“So. “ said Morgana after closing her seatbelt. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

Eve smiled tensely and shook. Morgan's extended hand. “Eve Moneypenny.”

“Are you also from the military Ms. Moneypenny? Or may I call you Eve.”

“Eve is fine. I was made Lieutenant before I was recruited for MI6.”

“And now you’re a bodyguard?” asked Morgana.

Eve smirked. “Now I’m a secretary.”

Morgana sat up straighter, etiquette shrugged off like a silken nightgown. “Are you saying that you were promoted to lieutenant and now you have to keep track of a rich old mans schedule?” There was something fierce in her eyes.

Eve smiled slightly. “You could say that, yes.”

Bond looked at them via rearview. “Moneypenny, stop leaving out all the juicy details! You make it sound as if everyone at six was a racist, mysogynistic pig.” He paused for a second. “Though there is that one guy in Accounting...”

Morgana relaxed against her seat. “Commander Bond, you read my mind. For a second there I thought I'd have to address the secret service over dinner tonight.” She sighed. “Now, do tell. What did Commander Bond mean?”

“After I was recruited for MI6 I was a field agent for a while. I was decent-”

Bond coughed.

“-and I was offered a position in the double-oh program, but I declined. Shortly after, I was sent to assist Bond - sorry - Commander Bond on a mission in Istanbul, and I was put in a... difficult position. Now I work as M’s Secretary.”

“Except that ‘Secretary’ doesn’t really cut it. We have a bet going: How will Moneypenny become the next M.”

“How come you never told me that!”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“Are you betting too?”

Bond shot her puppy dog eyes in the rearview. “Moneypants, I would never-”

Eve sighed exasperated. “So you do.”

Bond started humming again.

Morgana had watched the interaction with great interest. “Alright, cut the fancy talk. I have some questions. First: Does he go by ‘Commander’ or ‘Bond’?”

Eve glared at James trough the rearview. “Everyone calls him Bond, even though he was a commander in the navy and honourably discharged.”

Bond pouted. “Ouch Moneypenny, thats cruel. I was just getting used to the respectful tone!” Then he grinned again. James Bond couldn’t be sad for long when in his favourite car.

Morgana exhaled loudly. “Oh Thank god. Commander Bond is way too long of a name, just so you know. Now. Did Bond just say the minions made a bet about you?”

“Sadly.” Eve sighed. I don’t know when the Minions started with that, but it must have been after Skyfall. Boothroyd wouldn’t have allowed anything of the sort.”

Morgana blinked. “Whoa, wait a minute Loads of information. Minions?”

Eve smiled warmly. “The R&D department of MI6 is called Q-branch, after their commander, The quartermaster. Bond wanted to annoy the quartermaster, so he started calling the subordinated minions. At first he was - excuse my language - pissed, but the term grew on him, and the minions themselves love it.” Eve’s smile turned into a smirk and she eyed Bond. “They also have a bet going about when the agents are gonna cost Q his last nerve so he’ll turn into a supervillain.”

Bond took a sharp right turn and slowly drove across the frozen parking space in front of the newly built Hospital, stopping in front of the main entrance. Eve and Bond got out and went to Morgana's door. Eve opened it and Bond led Morgana to the glass doors which opened automatically. Eve pushed the back door shut.

Bonds head twirled around. “Why do you hate me Moneypants!”

“Stop with the drama, it’s not even your car.” Eve said rolling her eyes.

Inside Morgana was immediately welcomed with a warm applause from all sides. Eve and James sighed. Now came the worst part of the job. Ignoring the Speeches.

***

Half an hour and what felt like ten thousand words too much later they were standing in the newly opened Lobby and sipped on cool champagne flutes.

Q cleared his throat, announcing his presence via com. “Eve, you're playing sniper for now.”

Eve, clearly thankful for the distraction smirked. Her voice was calm and low when she answered. “We all know I’m a very good sniper.”

Bond silently lifted his eyebrow but kept talking to the duchess.

Morgana noticed, of course. “What was that about?”

Neither Eve nor Bond answered immediately.

“You can tell her. Her clearance is high enough.” came Q’s confirmation.

“Our handler was telling Eve to play sniper -to stay a step behind - and she said that that would be fine since we all know she is a very good sniper.” Bond explained sparsely, distaste clear in his voice.

Morgana lifted an eyebrow and turned to Eve. “Why is he so grumpy all of a sudden?”

Eve leaned closer, so their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “Remember that Istanbul mission I told you about earlier?”

Morgana nodded and a wave of her perfume hit Eve like a sledgehammer in the gut. Nevertheless she continued. “Bond was fighting someone on top of a moving train. I was in a car and managed to arrive at a bridge the train was about to cross before the train. I was meant to take a shot, kill Bonds target for him while they were fighting. But well-”

She shrugged, nonchalance dripping off of her like rain during a thunderstorm. “- I shot Bond. He fell off the train, and missed the bridge on his way down. Fell fifty feet into water, head down, with a bullet in the shoulder. He was presumed dead for months. But really, we should have known better; no one can kill James Bond.”

Morgana took a step back and eyed Eve with respect. “We should have coffee some time.”

“I’d love too.” Eve smiled brightly.

Bond sighed miserably. “ Love, get me out of here, Eve just told Morgana how she killed me and now they’re ganging up on me.”

Morgana eyed James, then his champagne. “Did he just-”

Eve shook her head. ”He’s not drunk. He’s talking to our handler, see?” She pointed to James’ right ear where the tiny spec of metallic black gave away the com, then pushed back her hair to show her own com.

“...Did he just call your handler ‘Love’?”

Eve sighed. She was still not entirely over the fact that she hadn’t figured out that Q and James had been married all that time.

Bond interrupted her, before she could say anything. He had taken a speedy recovery from his sulky mood and was now positively gleeful. He stepped closer to the two women so they formed a group and Eve took a few steps backwards in retaliation to keep and eye on the room.

Bond emptied his champagne glass and handed it to a passing waiter. “The minions love betting. It’s a terrible habit of theirs. They bet about anything and anyone. Also anyones. When Q and I first met on the job we were flirting the entire time - well, Eve calls it bantering, but no matter - and within a fortnight there was a betting pool about when we’d get together. But then I went under deep cover for six months. Everyone except Q thought I had left MI6 for a quiet live with the daughter of an Enemy of Six. The minions kept the betting pool running because they’re smart little bastards, and when I came back everyone wanted to kill me for breaking Q’s heart.”

Morgana frowned. “I thought you weren’t together?”

Bond smirked. “We weren’t. I take it as a major compliment that they thought Q and I would fit well together, even after I had apparently left MI6 for a woman.”

“So they wanted you and Q together even though you’re straight? Sounds pretty homophobic to me.”

“I’m bisexual, but thanks for the concern.”

“No I’m - I didn't mean - I meant, they thought you were straight? Sorry, I’m a bit overprotective - my brother is bi and his Spouse is pan .”

She took a sip of champagne. “Also I’m a huge lesbian. “ She added like an afterthought.

Bond grinned, Eve was going to love this. “It’s fine. Well, they disbanded the betting pool a fortnight ago.” Bond sighed.

“Why? Did you guys get together? No... Don’t tell me - Q got a partner? You found someone else?”

“I was sent on a mission to seduce a woman who had intel we needed - and much more we didn’t even know about - and only found out there that she only ever went for married men.”

“I don’t think a wedding ring is in a standard kit for secret agents these days, hm?” Asked Morgana teasingly. “Though I have to say, you know how to tell a story.”

Bond smiled and bowed his head in thanks. “The minions were quite upset about this development too - they pride themselves into equipping an agent to their best interest at all times - and a wedding ring wasn’t on the list. Luckily -” Bond slipped his hand into the inner pocked of his jacket and produced a necklace with a golden band on it, “- I am a married man. We got the intel and I went home.”

Morgana's eyes went wide. “Now that is a plot twist. And congratulations.”

“Thank you. Story isn’t over yet. The minions were convinced I had been married before and my wife was dead. I mess up our rings sometimes since we mostly wear them on necklaces and it’s hard to tell the difference. So they kept the pool running. I arrived at MI6 five hours later and went to return my com. Q demanded I show him my ring. Turns out I had the wrong one so we exchanged our rings in the middle of Q-branch and went home.”

Morgana laughed brilliantly and Eves head turned as if on instinct. She knew Bond was going to tell the story brilliantly. He was a spy, a living story himself. Bond winked at her and she turned back to face the crowd.

“Now that was a ride. I love a good storytelling, even better when the story is true.”

“A friend of mine loves stories too, maybe I could introduce you some time?”

Morgana's expression turned Icy. “Commander Bond, I’m sure I have mentioned I’m not interested in men your age.”

“Oh, no worries, you're actually the same age as her.” said Bond amicably.

Morganas features softened instantly. “Still, no thank you, I just found someone quite perfect.”

“Really? Care to share?”

“I’d rather not. After all, I've only known her for a day, and she seems to have a habit of shooting people who cross her plans.”

Bonds smile widened. “Wonderful. If you should invite her for Christmas.”

Morgana “Should I invite you and your husband too? Usually it’s just family, but I'm sure I could make an exception?”

“Oh I'll be there.” There was a certainty in his voice that astounded her.

In that moment her Mobile ringed. She recognised the number immediately, already pressing accept. “Sir?” She said in a serious tone before breaking character. “How are you! I haven’t heard from you in ages, what was that all about?”

“Hello Morgana, how lovely to speak to you on this terrible, terrible day.”

“You are so melodramatic, it’s just winter.” Morgana smiled. After Merlin he was definitely her favourite brother-in-law.

“Just winter she says. Oh, well what can I do... Never mind. You know I have a minor position in MI6, yes?”

“’Course. I’ve been buggering you about details for ages now.”

“Bond is feeling terribly smug right now, because he doesn’t know I’m the one calling you - now before you say anything, How do you like Eve?”

“Oh you know, Sherlock has his adorably perfect remorseless killer, I want my own too.”

“Good, because she’s my friend and I want to see her happy. You really should invite her for Christmas - and yes I know Bond just said that.”

“How?”

“I’m in his ear, metaphorically speaking.”

“...Wait are you telling me-”

“I’m his handler and you just met my husband of seven years whom I never bring to family dinner because he’s always away? Yes.” Morgana exhaled dramatically. “You are a menace, you know that right?”

“I try. I am also the Quartermaster of MI6, just so you know. I meant to introduce you at Christmas, but the he got this assignment short term. So back to business, you and Eve-”

“Oh no, mister were having lunch tomorrow and you’re filling me in about all the details, so-”

“-so you have the upper hand at Christmas, I know. If it’s any consolation; none of my brothers have met him yet because he keeps dying.”

“Is he with you right now, I mean- are they with you?”

“I silenced the coms, neither of them heard a word on my end. See you tomorrow then, hm?”

“The usual place?”

“There is a reason it is the usual, is there not?”

“You silly genius, see you there! And thanks for the call!

“No problem, sister mine.”

She hung up. “We should get going.”

‘It’s a small world’ Morgana thought to herself, taking Eves arm and manoeuvring towards the exit, Bond staying at her left.

She smiled innocently at Him. Time to play her favourite game. “I’m so sorry, I had to take that. What were you saying?”

#007 fest 2020 #team00 #005.Vi #00q #idk if im making sense #but eve and morgana would 100% like each other

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