#And there weren’t songs there was just a lot of singing if that makes sense
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𝖣𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖠𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖪𝗂𝖽𝗌
"𝖨𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌; 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍."
- 𝖯𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖡𝗎𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗍.
𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖪𝗂𝖽𝗌
𝖳𝖶: 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾
Bangchan: Building flatpack furniture
"I’m pretty sure that’s not where that goes.” You tilt your head toward Chris, confusion etched on your face as he tries to fit a square piece of wood into a circular hole.
“Tell that to Ikea!” he scoffs, trying a few more times before giving up and looking at the instructions.
“Babe,” you say with a sing-song tone, reaching over the pile of wood to take the instructions. “They’re upside down.” You laugh as you flip the paper and hand it back to him.
“Oh! Well, that makes a lot more sense.” Chris chuckles, searching for the correct piece. “So the circle goes into the circle…” he mumbles, finally matching the two pieces. You laugh, returning to your part of the flatpack puzzle.
“Why don’t we just do this later, babe? We could be doing something much more exciting right now,” Chris suggests with a mischievous grin.
“Christopher. No. You’re not distracting me from building furniture with sex again!” you say, firmly putting your foot down.
“Well, at least I know how to make sure we finish that job…” he replies with a wink.
Lee Know: Dancing in the kitchen when cooking
Sure, it was cliché, but nothing could stop you from dancing around the kitchen while cooking breakfast for the man you loved. Knowing Minho had a long night at the studio, you had your headphones on in a feeble attempt to keep the volume low so he could sleep. While he was a dancer by trade, you were more of a dancer by passion—or, instead, someone passionate about dancing despite being terrible at it, moving with the grace of an elephant in ballerina shoes.
It wasn’t unlike you to listen to your boyfriend's music in secret; you’d never admit it to his face—the relentless teasing about being a fan while sleeping in his bed wouldn’t be worth it. So, it was mornings like these where you could happily sing along to "God’s Menu" while whisking away at the pancake batter.
“Cooking like a chef, I’m a five-star Michelin,” you sang, mimicking Felix’s voice as you whisked and spun around the room, mindful of your voice level so you could bring Minho his pancakes in bed. After one last spin, you locked eyes with him, leaning against the counter by the door, clapping slowly, his heart eyes almost popping out of his head.
“Minho!” you exclaimed, jumping in surprise. “I tried to stay so quiet! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologised, walking over to kiss him on the cheek.
“I don’t know what I’m more offended by: the fact you were going to let me miss this, or that you weren’t singing my part,” he teased with a playful grin.
Changbin: Repairing a broken appliance
"Binnie, baby, it’s a microwave. I think we should just call someone or maybe just buy a new one," you suggest, reaching for his toolkit to prevent the inevitable disaster of him putting something metal inside the machine.
“No, bunny, it’s fine! I know what I’m doing,” he insists, reclaiming the toolkit and placing it back on the counter.
“You’re in an idol group; you’re not exactly an electrician. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself… or me,” you say tentatively, cringing every time he picks up a tool.
“I’m in a studio with electrics all the time. Trust me, it’s fine,” he reassures you, though his expression is puzzled as he examines the back of the microwave. He picks up a screwdriver, placing it against the panel to unscrew it.
“Wait!” you quickly interject. He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “It’s still plugged in,” you whisper, teeth clenched at the near-disaster. He puts down his tools and grabs you in his arms, sitting you on the kitchen island planting a kiss to your lips.
“Maybe we should just call someone,” Changbin laughs in defeat, finally relenting.
Hyunjin: Changing the bedsheets
“We were so close!” Hyunjin exclaimed, bursting into laughter as another corner of the bedsheet popped off the mattress and landed in the middle of the bed.
“Are you sure this is the right size?” you asked, gasping for air between laughs. This had happened at least three times, and you were starting to suspect he was doing it intentionally just to make you smile.
“It’s the same sheet! It’s just been washed,” he insisted, trying to secure the corner back in place and struggling yet again.
“I’ll work on the sheet; you focus on the duvet,” you insisted. “Watching you do this over and over is going to give me a hernia.” You playfully swatted him toward the pile of duvets and covers. He relented, letting you take charge of the bottom sheet. You quickly pushed the corner into place.
“See, that wasn’t too—oh, shit.” As soon as you went to admire your work, another corner sprang free, sending you both into another fit of laughter.
“If we’re lucky, we might get into bed before the sun rises,” Hyunjin teased.
Han: Leaving notes around the home
Han had been away on tour for three agonising months. It was always the same when he left; nothing ever felt right. The apartment was too quiet, too clean; it didn’t feel like home. After his first long trip and realising how much it affected you, he started leaving little notes around the house in unexpected places. Even three months later, you were still finding new ones.
You both love this tea; you save it for special occasions—family, guests, and moments like these when you’re missing him more than usual. As the kettle boils, you rummage through the back of the cupboard and find the little metal tin you keep it in. Opening the lid, the sweet aroma fills the air, instantly reminding you of him. Reaching inside, you pull out another note. Reading it brings tears to your eyes, and you quickly grab your phone to tell him you found another one.
“Missing me so much that you got the tea out? I guess you must have hit the three-month mark. I miss you too, angel. - Hannie.”
Felix: Playing a competitive video game
“No fair! You cheated!” Felix exclaimed, his eyes glued to the screen in front of you both in shock. The tea on the table had gone cold, forgotten over the shouting and screaming from the two of you going head to head. Any on-looker wouldn’t believe you were madly in love with each other if they happened to pass by.
“Beginner's luck, what can I say?” you replied, leaning back into the sofa with your arms up, basking in your victory.
“It’s Mario Kart beautiful, there’s no beginner's luck!” He laughed, leaning over to kiss you as a reward.
“You know, baby, if you weren’t such a passenger princess—” you began, only to be cut off.
“Not you, too! I get enough of this from Channie-hyung. When do I have time to learn to drive?” he protested playfully, putting his remote down and moving closer to you.
“Well, Seungmin managed it…” you teased as he moved closer, trapping you beneath him with a roll of his eyes.
“One more round,” he pleaded, his lips brushing against yours. “Loser has to make dinner?” he suggested.
“Bet,” you whispered back, kissing him softly.
Seungmin: Deciding on what takeout to eat
You loved Seungmin wholeheartedly, but decisiveness wasn’t one of his strong suits. He sat at the table, surrounded by at least five different menus from local takeout spots, trying to decide what to order for dinner.
“At least three of these places serve ramen; just pick one!” you insisted, knowing you would end up ordering ramen anyway.
“But do you want ramen?” he asked, his eyes focused on the menus you hadn’t taken.
“Maybe after we’ve eaten…” you laughed at the innuendo, but Seungmin was too engrossed in the menus for the joke to register. “Minnie, love, it’s just food. I really don’t mind! Whatever you want,” you reiterated. He picked up a menu for a Chinese restaurant. Maybe he was going to stray out of his comfort zone. Then he put it back down and reached for one you had taken from him.
“Okay, okay. We’ll order from here. Their ramen is always good; can’t really go wrong,” he stated.
“You’re so predictable.” You laughed, standing up from the table to grab your phone to place the order.
“Hey! I just got the ramen joke!” he called after you, laughing.
IN: Binging trashy reality TV
“Come on! One more!” IN pleaded from the other side of the sofa. You were wrapped up in a long blanket, your legs intertwined with his, a bundle of snacks between you.
“Innie, I’m so tired!” you protested, eyes half-closed as he hit the 'Next Episode' button on the screen. You glanced at your phone; it was 11 pm. You’d been watching the same show for the past six hours, only taking breaks for meals and bathroom visits.
“Oh baby, but they’re just about to confront the cheater, and I don’t want to watch it without you…” His eyes were wide, pleading. How could you say no to him?
“Fine, one more,” you conceded easily. “But you’re bringing me breakfast in bed in the morning.” You joked, knowing he would move heaven and earth to make you happy. Truthfully, you were eager to see the cheater confronted by his three ex-mistresses.
“Deal!” he agreed, his face lighting up with excitement as the episode started.
𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾? 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾! 𝖬𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈���𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌!
𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖣𝖬!
#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids#stray kids ot8#skz ot8
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I think I’ve figured out the reason that I didn’t vibe with Les Mis is that it’s a Musical For Men™️, whereas Phantom is a Musical For Mentally Ill and Horny Women, so it all makes sense now.
#If a woman had a personality in Les Mis she immediately died. Then there was Cosette#Idk I know it’s reflective of the time it was set but how it was presented still rang sexist#And there was no like characters? It was weird. A scene would open with thirty people singing and you knew none of them so why should I car#And there weren’t songs there was just a lot of singing if that makes sense#Like there was legit one scene where person number one I don’t know was like x character you have never heard of has died#And the thirty other characters I didn’t know were like somber silence and I was like I literally don’t care why should I how could I#And why did that Javert dude just randomly kill hi self? How anti climatic! I thought he and Jean Valjean were going to have some epic#final bitch off but no#And cosettes bf was so annoying. Why did Jean Valjean confess everything to him as opposed to idk his actual daughter?#Such Man energy#I really hope Les Mis tumblr doesn’t find me and bully me lol
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Losers || jjk. (M)
I get lonely when you're not here, and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded.
↠ Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader
↠ Summary : Jeon Jeongguk. Your brother's best friend, your mom's favourite human, and the man who is saved as, the certified asshole, on your phone. With black hair and piercings, tattoos and skinny jeans… Jeongguk has been your worst nightmare since you were 18. Six years later, getting along with him is still impossible. The only difference? His pastime then was to steal your diary and read it aloud. Now? Well… let’s just say, it’s most definitely not the same.
↠ Genre : pwp, brothers best friend au, age gap au, fuck buddies au (angst, fluff & smut)
↠ Warnings : explicit sexual content, swearing, bickering but they’re actually flirting, teasing (a lot of it), making out, grinding, dirty talk, degradation, breast play, unprotected sex (be safe), kinda dom!jungkook, power bottom!jungkook, riding, begging, creampie, mentions of oral sex, mentions of one-sided feelings and i think that’s all.
↠ Word count : 1.6k
↠ A/n : hello <3 here’s a little something that i put together when I was bored! I hope you enjoy brothers best friend!Jungkook as much as I did whilst writing. Your feedback will be appreciated 🤍. Happy reading 🦢
↠ Song : meddle about - Chase Atlantic.
You’re full. So damn full.
Jungkook’s thick and imposing cock is nestled inside you, the delicious stretch causing both of you to unleash the most desperate sounds.
“Ride me,” Jungkook’s voice is husky, and very evidently quivering with lust and need.
You gulp, licking your swollen lips before lifting yourself up and lowering yourself inch by inch, until he’s all the way inside again. The pressure between your legs is unbearable, body craving relief.
“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers boring into your hips. “So greedy for my dick.”
And the taunting is back…
You roll your eyes, lifting yourself up again and slamming down so hard that you both groan. “And who was begging me to ride their dick?”
Jungkook whispers a string of curses, before thrusting himself upwards. “A-and who… who was begging me to have sex with them in the first place?”
You.
The answer was you, and you couldn’t even try to defend yourself.
Your brother had finally left the house, and in other words, you and Jungkook were finally able to fuck.
So here you were, in the living room, relentlessly riding your brother’s best friend.
Now, you weren’t that bad. Yes, you had made the first move, but Jungkook was no innocent bystander. Your thoughts linger back to where the shenanigans began.
“Hey princess,” Jungkook smirks as he saunters into the living room, interrupting your peaceful evening. “Missed me?”
You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the sight of him. “Not even a little bit, asshole.”
“Stop lying,” he sings as he reaches over to take a chocolate covered strawberry from your plate. “I know you did.”
You remain silent, hoping he gets the cue and leaves. You don’t forget to mentally curse your brother for leaving you with this man-child.
Jungkook chuckles and you already sense a foolish comment about to leave his lips. “I know you love me, Y/N.”
You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “In your dreams, Jungkook. Your dick? Maybe. You? Never.”
He moves to take a seat on the couch adjacent to you, his gaze lingering a little too long. “You look cute when you're angry.”
You flush, hating how easily he gets under your skin. “Shut up, let me read.”
But instead of retorting, Jungkook leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Make me.”
You swallow hard, feeling a rush of heat between your thighs. "You wish."
His lips quirk into a smirk as he leans back, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe I do.”
You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to kiss him. Why did he have to be so damn infuriatingly attractive?
As the evening wears on, your banter escalated into a full-blown war of words, each insult laced with underlying tension. But beneath the surface, there's something else brewing—a desire that neither of you wants to acknowledge.
The three previous altercations between you and Jungkook had led to sex… there’s no way you were going to let that happen again.
“I’ll just go keep myself busy with Areum. You know your really pretty friend? She’s been begging me to come over.” Jungkook grins mischievously, knowing he's finally pushed you to your limit.
But instead of storming off in a huff like usual, you surprise him by closing the distance between you, lips crashing against his in a heated kiss.
He responds eagerly, his hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of need.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with desire.
You smirk, trailing my fingers down his chest. “You love it.”
He groans, his grip tightening on you as he whispers, “I’d be a liar if I said no.”
And that was what had brought you to your current state. You begin to ride Jungkook in a fast, unrestrained pace, leaning forward so your clit can brush against his pubic bone, deepening your own pleasure.
“So big, Jungkook.. So deep,” you moan gratifyingly, throwing your head back as you relish in this complete heaven.
Jungkook smirks whilst watching you fuck yourself on his cock, pleasure vividly overtaking you as you roll your eyes with each bounce. “Good girl, ride my cock just like that.”
“J-Jungkook,” you whine faintly, his hands forcing you down completely and making you go faster. His low grunts and growls of your name make you warm up more, adoring the pleasurable sounds he makes. Your eyes meet his and you heat up as he gazes at you with lust stained eyes.
“Feels good?” Jungkook asks, helping you bounce on his dick. He looks extremely sexy right now with swollen lips, tanned skin and messy, tousled hair.
The sound of heavy breathing and the way his cock easily slides in and out of you reminds you just how blissful it is to be intimate with Jungkook. It was a shame you couldn’t call him yours.
“Mhm,” you inform him, slowly riding his dick up and down, your cunt swallowing his thick girth with ease and allowing yourself to be distracted from mellow thoughts. Jungkook thrusts up and you gasp at the sudden action, whining his name louder.
Jungkook scoffs at your reaction, smirking as his hands come to rest at your hips. You notice his lust filled eyes and it urges you to ride him faster.
“Going to miss this pussy when I leave,” Jungkook grunts, his deep, throaty voice making your heart race faster.
You ignore the ache that settles in your heart at the thought of him leaving.
“Mhm.” You respond, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Jungkook’s cock deep inside.
Jungkook’s lips brush over your clavicles whilst his hands slide up and down your back, eventually stopping on your ass, grabbing it to help you ride him. Your hips rock back and forth at a steady speed, relishing in the current moment.
“Ohh fuckk,” you cry out, savouring each drag of his monstrous cock. Your hips continue to rock back and forth and Jungkook simply wishes you both were on a mattress right now so he could pound into you hard and fast. You feel the way he contains himself from thrusting upwards, knowing very well that he’ll lose control.
The mere sight of you in the throes of pleasure, throwing your head back and lustily moaning has Jungkook weak. Your partly lidded eyes, flaming skin and heaving chest tells Jungkook all that he needs to know. You look alluringly beautiful, using Jungkook’s body to catch your release.
“Always ride me so fucking well, baby.” Jungkook rasps, lips moving to wrap around your nipples and sucking on them vigorously. He fondles with the other, neglected breast, pinching at your nipple and your whines only heighten.
“You look so sexy and you’re all mine,” he growls, his hips moving to thrust up against yours. His throaty voice impels you to shiver, dominance and possessiveness lacing it. “No one else can have this.”
“All y-yours, baby,” you croon, your walls tightening and clenching as his low grunts and moans turn you on. “There’s no one who’ll make me feel like this.”
And that’s true. You have no clue if you’ll ever stop craving Jungkook. The idea of him fucking someone else, paired with the idea of someone else fucking you, leave a distaste in your mouth.
“I’m close, Kook,” you whine whilst reaching for his veiny hands to rub against your palpitating clit. Jungkook understands the message, instantly moving his hand to thumb against it. He circles his finger around the bud and you helplessly mewl, aching to come.
You pull on Jungkook’s tresses as your hips begin to stutter in their grinding. “Such a good girl for me, always so good.” He encourages you and that simple sentence is all you need as your pussy clenches and slick cum squirts out of you.
“Just like that, baby girl. Just like that,” Jungkook harshly breathes, painting your insides with his seed. He lifts his hips, fucking into you through your orgasms. You moan loudly before falling against his chest, pressing firm kisses against his sweaty neck.
“I love it when you come inside me,” you purr, sucking deep, purple marks into his skin. Another thing that should not be happening. Looking after a baby, Jungkook’s baby to specify, was not something you imagine yourself doing anytime soon.
A husky moan escapes from Jungkook as he pulls your face towards his, pressing a searing kiss onto your rosy lips. He kisses you with love, purpose and sincerity. The third thing that should not be happening right now.
You shiver at the feeling of his cock being nestled inside your wet, warm walls. Jungkook’s hands move to your ass, gently grinding you against him. You pull back and are met with a sly grin on your temptations face.
Temptation was the word your mind had settled with. Is that what he was?
“Again?” He cockily mutters, moving forward to rub his nose against yours.
“Well, why not?,” is all you whisper back before pressing your lips against his, swallowing his giggles as you push him to lean against his seat, ready to be destroyed all over again.
Jungkook’s fingers are lost in your hair, and his other hand rests against your waist, gently caressing your exposed skin.
You think back to days upon days with him, starting with a simple kiss to now fucking at every chance you get.
You dwell on your feelings for the man in front of you. Who would’ve thought that the Jungkook you passionately hated would be the one who’s on your mind constantly? The one who’s name comes to mind first thing in the morning. The one who’s worth every risk and battle.
Maybe you could tell him, whisper your fondness for him in his ear, but you don’t.
Instead, you snuggle into his warmth, hoping it’ll satiate your aching heart for now.
And there we go. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback and comments are always appreciated ; it really makes me feel better about what I write so please do tell me what you think of this if it is not too much of a hassle <3
Until next time,
🤍
#jungkook smut#bts fics#bts smut#jungkook fics#jungkook#bts x reader#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#bts x fem!reader#bts x y/n#bts angst#jungkook x y/n#kpop smut#bts fluff#fic: losers
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To Have and To Hold
reader x spencer reid
summary: you absolutely adore the promise ring Spencer had gotten you a few months ago, but maybe he needs one too..
an: based on this insta reel! https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4oecVJp1zK/?igsh=NmZ2NHhkeDI4cGVu
they so cute 🥰 also i used a different pov in this one, lmk what you think 🤍🤍
Crisp autumn air nipped at your nose while you quickly rushed home to see him. The box laid heavy in your pocket as a subtle reminder. You smiled to yourself as you looked down to your hand. The ring that had laid comfortably on your finger for the past three months stared back up at you. Spencer was so happy the day he got it for you.
His smile was sickeningly contagious as you sobbed into his arms. The ring was sparkly and bright as he gently slipped it onto your finger. A promise, just for you two.
The ring you got him complimented yours well, a little worried that it wasn’t his style but nonetheless excited to see the smile on his face. You could hear the echo of your footsteps as the quickened. You couldn’t wait.
“Baby, i’m home!” You dropped your bag by the door and smiled as Spencer peaked his head around the doorway, his long curls were messy and the glasses on his face slightly ajar. He took a few long steps and engulfed you in his arms, the glasses on his nose being knocked out of place a bit more as he nuzzled into your neck. He smelled like lumber and old books. A scent you had learned to love.
“Missed you..” His large hands squeezed your sides gently before he finally let you go and gave you a quick peck. You follow him into the living room where you fall onto the sofa with a huff and lazily take your shoes off. Nerves filled your throat but you quickly swallowed them down
“Oh! I almost forgot!” You said with faux shock as you sprouted from your spot and rushed over to Spencer, who was sat at the dining room table with a book and a cup of coffee. He hummed as you sat next to him
“My nails!~” Your sing song voice said as you wiggled your fingers in front of him, your ring shining in the light
“Oh!” He grabbed your hand to hold it still as he studied the delicately made nails, “There very nice.” He smiled as he left a soft kiss on your knuckles
You giggled and looked at your nails again, your heart pounding in your chest. “This ring is still so pretty…”
“I’m glad you like it!” He lazily held his head in his hands while watching you slightly
“You need one?” He smiled slightly and shook his head
“No. I mean- if you want to get me one you can..” You excitedly reached in your pocket and nearly slammed the box on the table. He looked at the box then back to you a few times with slight shock in his chocolate eyes
“Open it, honey” You smiled brightly as he cautiously grabbed the small wooden box and opened it. The small black band weighed heavy on the plush white interior, shining just as brightly as yours.
“You…” He raised his ring and gently slipped it on his finger, twisting his hand around and clenching his fingers slightly
“I wasn’t sure if it was totally your style, but I wanted something to match mine.” You smiled as he looked up, faint tears staining his eyes and a huge pearly smile adorned his face
“It’s perfect.” He stood up and practically dragged you from your chair to hold you.
You weren’t sure of a lot of things. Spencer’s books confused you, and his french way of making coffee left you puzzled, but the way his hands wrapped around your waist and the way his head fit perfectly in the crook of your neck just made sense. The way his curls tickled your nose and the way you could feel him breathing against you was something that felt right.
Spending the rest of your life with him made sense..
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The Fallen Angel
GN human X nonbinary angel (uses they/its pronouns), 15,020 words.
(Apologies for how long I've been away, a lot has been happening. But here is the story at long last! At very long last. I have written, unfortunately, a fucking novella. Please let me know what you think, I put my heart into this bitch.)
There is an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You are determined to free it.
There was an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You could hear it singing when you cleaned the great brass candles and the stained glass windows. It sang during the services, too, but the song just reverberated behind the choir or the preaching, too subtle to be truly noticed. It was only in the afternoons, when the sunlight sent a colored glow across the floor and your body sweated and shook with fatigue, that the song grew strong enough for you to really hear what it was.
Angel song is not like birdsong, nor it is it like the song of a person. It is almost like the sound of a choir, if the choir was like a pipe organ or the wind passing through a cave. The noise settled in your bones and lungs. Sometimes, you felt yourself humming along, like just the presence of the sound was forcing the notes from your body.
You cleaned the church every three days, more or less- you didn’t clean at all on Sundays, but you did attend. So did the rest of the town. Had it gotten more crowded since the song started? Maybe- the church’s attendance was already high, and the faith strong. The angel would not have come otherwise.
You knew that the angel was trapped. You weren’t a fool- the basement door was chained and sealed, and the singing was louder the closer you get. No free angel would suffer being locked away like this. And then there was its singing. Usually, it just made your bone tremble and compelled you to sing along with it. On Sundays, its song amplified the worship, making your brain tingle with the divine. But sometimes, more frequently these days, the song struck you with such profound sadness, that you found yourself on your knees, face wet with tears.
It was over a month of the singing and the knowledge that something divine rested beneath your feet before you considered doing something about it.
In fairness: you were not qualified to interact with an angel, much less rescue one. You were not a priest, not a spiritual practitioner. A priest was technically your boss, though you cleaned more buildings in town than the church. If he had trapped the angel, there must be a reason.
But the angel’s song grew more sorrowed and more desperate, until you woke at night, nowhere near the angel’s song, with a hum vibrating in your chest and tears on your cheeks. And you came to the conclusion that, no matter what reason the priest has, the angel did not deserve this.
So you called a spiritual practitioner. As much as you may have wanted to help, you had no idea how. Better to leave such things to professionals.
You had hoped the practitioner would arrive at the church, sense the angel immediately, and free them. But there wass no fuss from the church, and no angel emerged. The practitioner left town before the sun set that day.
Three more practitioners and a priest entered the town over the next two weeks. None of them freed the angel. Your bewilderment grew with each failure. Were they not noticing it? Were they being turned away? Bribed?
The sixth person, a priest, was the one you followed. You tailed him to the church, and continued following him twenty minutes later, when he emerged. Once he had made it past the edges of the town, you ambushed him.
It wasn’t much of an ambush, really. You just stepped out onto the path in front of him and demanded he tell you what was going on. He was clearly weirded out, but once you said that you were the person who called him, he was a bit more willing to talk.
You asked him why he didn’t do anything to free the angel. He stareed at you, eyes wide. Then he spoke, quiet and almost frightened. “What that thing is should not be freed. It is best for everyone if it stays down there.”
Once he told you that, he dismissed himself, and hurried away. You stared after him. Then you returned home.
The creature in the basement could not be anything but an angel. It could have been one of the infernal, but the infernal don’t sing. Scream and howl and beg, but they do not sing. And no infernal creature would sit through the services that come every Sunday. People would avoid the church, rather than flocking to it in droves. And yet, if the priest had seen an angel, you found it hard to believe he wouldn’t have tried to release it. He certainly wouldn’t have told you it was a thing.
The next time you went to the church, the singing was low and tremulous. It reminded you of someone trying to sing through tears. Again and again, you found yourself at the basement door. When you placed your hand on it, the dark metal was warm, like it had been resting under a sunbeam.
You could not bring yourself to leave, even an hour after your work was done. The sadness of the song radiated around you and ever since you spoke to the priest, you were terribly curious. Perhaps that was a cruel thing, to be just as compelled by curiosity as compassion. But you were. If it had been just compassion, maybe you could have stood aside and let someone else do it. But it was curiosity as well, and you needed to do it yourself because you needed to know.
While you had access to most of the keys in your line of work, you didn’t have access to the ones that unlocked the chains and the door. Even after some snooping, you couldn’t find them, so you resorted to attempting to pick the locks. It was something you learned in your youth, mostly since you could never keep track of your house keys. The padlock was easy enough to undo. The door took more time, but still under five minutes.
The door itself was more of a barrier than the locks were. It was heavy enough that you wondered if it was even designed for only one person to open. But with enough effort, you managed to open it enough for you to squeeze through.
It wasn’t dark. Or, rather, it was dark, but it wasn’t as dark as it should have been. There were no windows in the basement and you had no light, so you shouldn’t have been able to see anything. Certainly not the gentle glow of what looked like sunlight at the bottom of the cool stone steps in front of you.
It wasn’t cold, either, you reflected as you headed down the steps. It should have been, if not dank, at least a little chilly. But the light was as warm as a sunbeam. You headed toward it, keeping your steps as light as possible. Surely whatever was down here had heard the door open and knew someone was approaching, but you tried to keep as quiet as possible regardless. It made you feel better.
The stairs ended at a doorway that opened into a room. It was clearly intended for storage of some kind, as most basements are. And it was still storing something. Because most of the room was occupied by a-
Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? What was that? Your first instinct was person, but people are not usually so large that, even on their knees, they cannot straighten their back without hitting their head on the ceiling. Their body filled most of the room. You could sit in their hand. And, of course, they were the source of the light. You couldn’t look at their center, since it was so bright as to be blinding, but even their extremities glowed like lamps. You had to tilt you head back to look into their face and you saw… nothing. Their head was human-shaped, but they had no hair, no face. It was almost frightening, the blankness there, but your attention was drawn to something else only a moment later.
Angels have halos. This one was no exception. A golden ring, elaborate in design, hovered behind their head. But it was not a simple, clean circle. It was broken. The metal was (or something that looked like metal) twisted and splintered and dented. The entire thing was rent apart, golden liquid spilling from the broken bits. It looked like something grabbed it and twisted until the halo split.
The song radiated through you then. And, for the first time, it occurred to you that this was not song. It just sounded like it. The angel was crying.
Everyone heard tales of fallen angels. Cast out for crimes or sin, sent to Earth. Crying to return. They were creatures to fear. An angel is dangerous. An angel that has been sent away and maddened with grief and loss is only more so.
You moved toward them, trying to see where they were chained to the wall. Your body moved almost on its own, and you wondered if the song was somehow compelling you to do so. It didn’t matter, though. You’d be doing this anyway.
There weren’t chains holding it in place. That was actually a relief. They would have been huge and you weren’t sure how to handle chains you couldn’t move. Instead, the angel seemed to be held in place by writings across the ground, walls, and ceiling. From a distance, they looked like just worn stone, but up close, you could see the writing. It took you some time to figure out what they were. Bible verses, in Latin and English. They seemed completely random. You assumed they were holding the angel here, since you couldn’t find anything else that seemed to be doing so. But this wass all over your head. Presumably there was a way to undo this, but you didn’t know what. It would be weeks of work to destroy all the writing here.
After taking some time to despair and scream in frustration, you went over to a wall and, by the light of the angel, started to read. It was a bit difficult, since there was no way to read without the angel being behind you, and your shadow appearing on the wall, but if you angled your head, you could make out the words.
Some of the verses were familiar to you. A few of them were about angels. Some of them were about God’s power or smiting the unjust. Some of them seemed completely unrelated. Maybe there was a reason that you just weren’t getting. But as you continued, you noted a pattern. They repeated.
It was a hard repeat to catch- there wasn’t a set pattern where it was the same order every repeat. But after going back and forth and squinting in the low light for long enough that you developed quite the headache, you found that the phrases were repeating. Every verse was repeated once per repeated section. A vague idea came to your head. It wasn’t a plan you were sure would work, but it was the only idea you had.
You slipped back upstairs and rummaged in the tool closet. Normally, you only bothered with the cleaning supplies, but there were hammers and nails there, for general repairs. You took a hammer and a screwdriver and brought them back down to the basement.
At the beginning of each repeat, you took the screwdriver and, using it as almost a makeshift chisel, hammered it into the wall until the rock chipped away. The words weren’t carved very deeply, so it wasn’t terribly hard to flake them off. Well, it wasn’t hard relatively speaking. It was still hard work to chisel anything at all, and your arms were trembling and aching in short order.
It was slow going. Fortunately, the repeats were long, so you didn’t need to chisel all that often, but it was hard to find the proper start, and there was a lot of small writing. Your back ached from stooping to get the stuff on the floor.
You had the inclination that you were doing something right, though. The angel had nearly ignored you before, as you’d walked around its cage. But now, as you chiseled at the walks, it turned its head toward you, face still blank, though you could tell it was watching. Maybe it was just curious, but you thought maybe it could sense something changing.
About midway through your second wall, the air started to take on a different… feel. Like it was getting thicker, almost humid, with a smell like before a storm. You took more breaks, almost dropping your hammer and chisel a few times. Your fingers weakened. You started smashing randomly with the hammer, though it didn’t seem to have a great effect. The angel watched, or did something similar, with its massive, blank face.
By the third wall, the feeling was suffocating. Whether it was from the unbinding of the angel itself, or the bindings themselves trying to fight back, it was impossible to say. You just staggered from one repeat to the next, barely able to stand. How were you going to get the writing on the ceiling? You couldn’t risk stopping and returning, in case someone discovered your work the next day, but you also could not risk getting up on a ladder- not when it felt like the floor was shifting and bucking under your feet.
Please, you thought as you brought your hammer down onto your makeshift chisel. Please be enough. Please be the last. You weren’t sure who you were begging to, pleading to, but as you brought your hammer down one last time-
Light. There was light and then there was nothing. You were on your back on the ground, though it didn’t hurt. Which was strange. If you’d fallen over, you expected your head to hurt where it had hit the ground. You blinked a couple times. The room was less bright than it had been. There were a few scraps of light that seemed to be drifting about like floating candle flames, but they were fading and taking the light with them.
You rolled over and looked toward the angel. It was no longer there. Or, to be more specific, the enormous, glowing, faceless creature was gone. Sitting in the center of the room, blinking in apparent confusion was… a person.
No, the person was the angel. You were sure of it, since the person had wings. Large, powerful-looking wings with scruffy brown feathers. Little wings of a lighter color were set where their ears should be. But they also did not look like the images of angels you’d seen in books or in stained glass. Those angels were always inhuman looking, with perfect, sculpted bodies and porcelain skin. This angel was a little pudgy, with little pockmarks and imperfections in its skin. Its feathers were ruffled and sticking out, and its long hair was ruffled. It blinked at you with drooping, tired-looking eyes.
“Ah…” Looking at the angel, you realized you hadn’t paused to come up with an exit plan for once the angel was free. You’d been more focused on just breaking the cage. There had been some vague idea in the back of your head, of the angel realizing it was free and busting its way out of the church through the ceiling. Though perhaps it was good that hadn’t ended up happening, since that would probably leave you crushed by rubble. You certainly hadn’t expected the angel to suddenly poof down into a nearly human form.
They seemed confused. They swayed in place, staring around the room like they’d never seen it before. Or, never seen it from that angle before, at least. They shifted their wings a couple times, stretching them out only the tiniest amount before trying to get to their feet. Despite looking rather unsteady, they stood with only a little stumbling and stayed on their feet. They glanced around the room one more time, then looked back at you.
They were tall. Bigger than most people you’d seen. And their wings only added to their bulk. They would have cut an intimidating figure, if it wasn’t for the out-of-it look on their face.
This was a new problem. You’d figured the angel would be out of your hair once you freed it. But this angel looked rather helpless. You got the impression that, if you left it there, it would stand there until the priests came back in the morning and locked it away again. Or killed it. It looked more killable in this form.
Leaving it was considered and discarded. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave them here if they could remember your face and maybe reveal your identity if asked. And even if they couldn’t, you’d already put so much effort into freeing them. It seemed like a waste to ditch them at the last moment.
Not to mention, the idea of leaving them standing there, shivering slightly in the chill of the basement and blinking at you with confused, doe-like eyes made your chest ache.
You approached the angel. It locked its eyes on you, watching as you came closer. Not necessarily cautious- more like curious as to what you were going to do next. You reached out a cautious hand and took the angel’s.
They jolted, sucking in a breath the second your fingers came in contact. You froze. All of their feathers bristled and they seemed to shudder. For a moment, you thought you could faintly hear their song, but it faded so quickly that it may have been your imagination.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, the same tone you used to coax the church cats out of hiding places. “We need to go, though.” You tugged on their arm. Despite their size, they moved easily. You lead them up the stairs and into the church proper.
They followed you to the back door of the church. It was late, and the place was deserted, which was a relief. The angel was both winged and very naked, which would be hard to explain to anyone.
Getting them to your house was tense. The angel was conspicuous, so you had to avoid areas with people. Fortunately, it was late, so the cover of night and the lack of people on the street was enormously helpful. The angel was also quite easy to tug along, despite their size. You made it to the backdoor of your home with no real struggle, though you came very close to shoving the angel into a bush when a person stumbled across your path in your neighborhood. To your relief, they were very drunk and they seemed to barely notice your presence.
The moment you were within your house, you collapsed. The angel shuffled next to you, flexing their wings and glancing around. They didn’t seem anything more than mildly interested in their surroundings. After a moment, they sat down next to you.
You could have stayed on the ground all night, but after thirty minutes, you decided that it probably wasn’t good to your guest to let them stay on the ground all night. It was late and you could decide what to do with them in the morning, but now, you were both going to get some rest.
“Come on,” you grumbled, tugging at their arm. The angel allowed itself to be led into your small bedroom, where you encountered your first problem. The bed was not sized for an angel. Again, it was a normal bed. Not an unusually small one. But the angel was, at minimum, six and a half feet tall and carrying a set of bulky wings. Perhaps, if you shuffled some furniture around, you could have made it work, but it was very late and you were very tired. So you tugged all the bedsheets you had into the room and dumped them on the floor. The angel watched you the entire time, completely impassive.
Once you were done, you had to drag the angel over and push them into the makeshift bed. They blinked up at you from the pile. “Lie down,” you said, pushing on their shoulders. They allowed it, bowing under your touch with as much compliance as ever. “Go to sleep.”
You didn’t wait to see if they followed that order. Instead, you stumbled to your own bed, tugged the blanket you had over yourself, and closed your eyes.
Morning came entirely too early. Even when you were bone tired, your body clock woke you up at the same time every day. It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours of sleep, and probably less. You blinked tiredly for like thirty seconds before rolling over and catching sight of the angel.
It was still laying down in the pile of blankets. Its eyes were on you, blinking heavily every so often. You stared back at it. “I suppose you’re going to be here for a while,” you said. The angel just stared.
With little else to do, you got out of bed and headed into the kitchen. Your head ached, probably from lack of sleep, and also stress. It had been easy to not think about the consequences when you were freeing the angel, but now, well. The priest was going to want to know where his angel went, and you had a winged person in your house, as well as being the last person in the church that night. It wouldn’t be hard to put the pieces together.
You got into the kitchen and became aware of a second set of footsteps trailing after yours. You stopped and the footsteps behind you stopped as well. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it- the angel was following you. They gazed back at you as you stared at them. They were swaying a little on their feet, wings twitching like that helped them stay upright.
“I suppose you want breakfast,” you said. The angel blinked. It was the only acknowledgement they gave you. “Well, I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t feed you, I guess.”
At your instruction (physical instruction- it was easier to move the angel around than it was to try and give them verbal commands) the angel sat down at your tiny table. There wasn’t much room for more than one person, but you could make it work. Breakfast was never a particularly impressive affair for you, but if you had an angel over, you decided to go through the effort of actually heating up some biscuits and cooking some eggs and even a couple thin strips of bacon.
You set the plate in front of the angel. They stared down at the meal. Their gaze wasn’t necessarily dismissive. It just also reminded you of a dog examining a new object. Not a person getting a good meal.
“Do you know how to eat?” you asked after a few moments. If it had just become a mortal, than perhaps it wasn’t sure precisely how eating worked? You demonstrated a few times, slicing a sliver off your egg and placing it in your mouth before chewing with exaggerated deliberateness. The angel took it in, but still made no moves on its own breakfast. “Do you need help?” you asked, a bit irritated. You sawed off a piece of biscuit, dipped it in the egg and speared a little bit of bacon before holding it to the angel’s mouth. It recoiled when the fork nearly touched its lips.
A few more attempts at convincing it to eat were unsuccessful and you backed off, confused. Perhaps the angel didn’t need to eat after all, or wasn’t able. You had no idea what angels needed.
Now that you had eaten, you were starting to feel more ready to tackle the current issues. You had work. Not at the church, thankfully, but you still needed to leave. And as reluctant as you were to leave the angel alone in your house, you couldn’t think of anything else to do. Staying home would be incredibly suspicious. You needed to make it look like everything was normal.
As exhausted as you were, you dragged your clothes on and gathered your supplies. The angel watched you. They were still completely naked, though you were getting used to it at this point. “Are you going to put some clothes on?” you asked. The angel stared. “Never mind.” It wasn’t like it was going to fit in any of your clothes. It was too tall. “I’m going to be leaving for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right? Stay here. Don’t go outside.” You felt a little bad, telling the angel that had spent the past however long trapped in a single room that it couldn’t go outside, but that was a bad idea. Maybe later, you could bring them outside.
“Stay here,” you said, feeling a little like you were talking to a dog. The angel just stared at you. “I’m trusting you.”
You left your home and took a few paces down the street, glancing over your shoulder all the while. The door didn’t open again, and you kept looking until your house had vanished around a corner, and even a little after that.
To your immense relief, the angel never followed. That didn’t stop you from being jumpy as you cleaned, though. Every time a person approached you, there was a moment of panic, either that someone had found a strange, winged person wandering the street or that the priests at the church were going to drag you in for questioning. But neither ever happened. You managed to finish up early (by cutting a few corners) and hurried home.
The angel was… exactly where you left them. Literally. Exact same spot. Had it even moved all day? It did look a little worse for wear- a little weaker, maybe, with dark patches coming in under its eyes and a definite sway when it tried to sit up straight. As soon as it saw you, it makes an attempt to surge to its feet- and fumbled, nearly landing straight on its face.
“Woah, hey there,” you said as the angel flailed on the ground, wings flapping like a startled duck. “You, uh. You doing all right?”
The angel managed to push itself upright and blinked blearily at you. The swaying was still there, giving the alarming impression that they were a moment from falling again and only just barely preventing themself from doing so.
Perfect. You not only had an angel bunking with you, you had an angel bunking with you and there was something wrong with them. That could only end badly. “Okay, I’m going to need you to work with me here,” you said. The angel was, again, rather compliant as you tugged them into the kitchen and got them to sit at the table. They seemed to be shivering, so… fire in the stove? You grabbed a few blankets and placed them around the angel’s shoulders as well, until the angel was sufficiently covered. The angel’s shivering slowed and it seemed almost perplexed by that development.
“That’s better,” you said. “Are you feeling okay now?”
The angel wobbled a little bit and they blinked at you. They didn’t seem to nod or shake their head at all, or communicate in any way other than staring. Which meant it was hard to figure out what they wanted. Or if they wanted anything at all.
After staring at the angel for a little while longer, just to convince yourself that they weren’t about to keel over, you went to the stove and heated up your dinner. It was just some bread and a very simple chunk of salted meat with a couple of vegetables. The angel watched you, though they still swayed like they were on a ship instead of steady ground.
You returned to the table, carrying your plate, and the angel’s eyes remained locked on you. No, not you, you realized as you got closer. Their gaze was locked on your plate. As you wanted, the angel’s mouth opened, ever so slightly, and a bead of drool actually welled up on their lips. As you set the plate on the table, the angel made a strange noise. You hadn’t been expecting it at all, so it took you a moment to realize it was the angel’s stomach growling.
“Are you hungry?” you asked. The angel stared back at you. After a moment, you pushed the plate of food toward the angel. Their eyes remained on it, but they didn’t make any move to eat. Not even when you took a fork and offered them a bite.
There was a bewildered moment, where you weren’t sure what was going on. Then it clicked in your head: the angel was hungry. They also had no idea what to do with it.
The angel was mortal now. Whatever had happened, when you broke its cage, it had become mortal. But it had never been mortal before. How was it supposed to know anything? How would someone know the pain in your stomach meant hunger if they’d never felt it before? How would they know the heaviness their limbs and strange inability to keep their eyes open would be cured by sleep, or their shivering meant they needed to sit near a fire with blankets?
The angel was a mortal, but it was a very new mortal, and it needed to learn all the other things mortals understood just by being alive.
You scooted closer to the angel and picked up the fork again. This time, you took a bite, making sure the angel watched the food travel into your mouth and you chewing and swallowing. Then, you moved the fork right up to the angel’s lips. “You’re hungry. This will help. You need to eat,” you said, not totally sure if the angel was understanding you. The angel blinked once, twice, then tentatively opened its mouth and allowed you to place the food inside.
The angel, with a sort of bewildered slowness, closed their mouth and chewed. It looked like clumsy chewing, but they picked up on it pretty quickly, their brow furrowed with focus. Then they tried to swallow and instantly choked.
You had a real, legitimate panic about having an angel choke to death at your table for nearly a full twenty seconds before the angel got their breathing under control again. You made them drink water, which went much smoother- maybe you should have started there- and cleaned up. The angel had recovered enough to watch you as you did so, drinking in every motion you made. Maybe it would have been a little creepy, if the angel hadn’t felt so genuinely curious about what you were doing.
When you returned the food to it, the angel ate more carefully, if still with enthusiasm. You’d realized, by that point, that the angel didn’t understand the concept of being too full, so while that would eventually need to be a learning experience, you just took the food away after you’d determined what the angel probably needed. It didn’t protest at all, but let you remove the plate and watched as you collected the scraps that could be composted.
It didn’t protest when you led the angel to bed, either. This time, you just tugged all the bedsheets you had onto the floor and directed the angel’s attention onto you. “We’re going to sleep. You need to sleep. Every night. You sleep like this.” You lay down on the floor, tugged the blankets over yourself, and went still, slowing your breathing. The angel watched until you sat up again. “Now you do it.”
With some very gentle persuasion, you got the angel lying on its side, eyes closed. You watched it until its breathing deepened and its body relaxed. Then you went to sleep yourself.
The angel was still fast asleep when you woke, and you were careful not to disturb it as you made your way to the kitchen. You had a feeling it would turn up and, sure enough, when the smells of cooking made their way down the hall, the angel appeared, a blanket wrapped around it like a cloak.
They ate breakfast, this time not even choking once, and even brought their plate over to the washbasin. “Okay,” you told them once you were done cleaning up. They looked at you, gaze attentive. “We’re going to need to get you some clothes.”
You did not have any clothes in their size, and since you were smaller than they were, you couldn’t just take some of your clothes in. The wings were also a complicating factor. In the end, you didn’t have the time or skills to really make anything elaborate for the angel. With one of your old blankets, you simply created rough arm and neck holes and added darts in the sides to hold the entire thing together. There was no way to create holes for the wings. They were large enough that you just left massive slits down the back to create space. It wasn’t perfect, since the slits left the back rather open, but it was better than nothing. The angel was remarkably still for the whole measuring and pinning and sewing. It took a few hours for the entire process to be over, and you were sore by the end, but the angel had clothes.
It was not long after you’d fully clothed them, when you were lying on your bed to enjoy a rest, that someone knocked on your door.
You jolted, nearly throwing yourself out of bed. The angel startled as well, though they seemed to be more upset by your reaction than the knocking. Cautiously, you crept through the door, grateful that your window allowed you to see the people at your door without needing to open it.
The angel came, warm against your back as they stared out the window after you. The Head Priest stood, dressed in his usual gold-flecked robes and with two guards stationed at either shoulder. You felt the angel shift and bristle behind you turned to look at them.
The angel was staring, unblinking, at the priest and his entourage. Its wings had extended a little, puffed up like the pigeons that littered the town did when they were threatened. But its face… it was the first time you’d ever seen the angel make a real expression of emotion. And it was afraid.
That, more than anything, made your stomach sink.
The knocking came again, louder, harder. The angel slunk back a little. One of its hands was latched onto your wrist and it seemed determined to drag you with it. It actually managed to haul you along for a few steps before you dug your feet in. “I have to answer the door. Go hide.” The angel released your wrist, but it hesitated, wings twitching. “Go. Hide. I will be fine.” The angel flexed its wings once, then turned and headed back to your room. You breathed in and out, then headed toward the door.
As soon as you opened the door, the priest moved into your house. He didn’t shove past you, since he didn’t touch you, but he did force his way in. The guards just roughly shoved you aside, barely recognizing your presence.
“Can I help you, your grace?” you said. It was difficult to keep your voice even. The priest wasn’t a withered old man, but he wasn’t young, and his gaze was as sharp as a shard of glass. He glared around the room, nose twitching. You resisted the irrational thought that he was smelling for something. You licked your lips. “Was my church cleaning not up to your satisfaction?”
The priest’s gaze focused on you. “The cleaning has been fine. However, two days ago, an object of some great importance went missing from the church.”
It was him saying ‘an object’ that saved you. Because you didn’t take an item, you had, technically, stolen a person. But your brain didn’t quite register that he couldn’t just say you’d stolen a person, so when he said ‘an object,’ you took him at face value and your surprise was genuine.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” The priest’s eyes locked onto yours, and you stared back with stupid, genuine bewilderment. There was a flicker across his face, like surprise- maybe he didn’t expect you to look so guileless.
“You won’t mind if we have a look around, then?” the priest said, voice lightly curious. Not even accusing. Genial.
It was a trap. Obviously. Say yes, the priest can poke wherever he wants and look for anything he determined to be incriminating. Say no, that was instantly suspicious, even if you were only doing it for the sake of your privacy. But if you said yes… there was no way he wasn’t going to find the angel in your bedroom.
“Actually, I do mind. Are you accusing me of something?” Acting outraged was your best defense. Not a good defense, just the best one you had. “I don’t appreciate having people rifle through my things just because I happened to be near the church when something was stolen.”
The priest’s eyes narrowed. The guards stiffened. “No accusation, of course. We’re merely… cautious. Surely you can understand why we would want to check out every possible lead. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear, no?”
“I have nothing to fear, but that hardly means I want people meandering into my house at all hours, demanding proof for crimes there is no evidence I committed. Tell me, if I came into your home tomorrow, demanding to look for something you may have stolen while you were in my house, would you be perfectly happy to have me poking through your underwear drawer?” The priest’s face went a strange shade of pink-red, but you barreled on with no pause for his response. “And, to add to that, you haven’t even told me what was stolen! For all I know, you could simply claim any of my items to be the thing I stole and slap me in chains for it!”
The priest was still deadly calm, but there was a clear rage to his voice when he spoke again. “Do you truly think a man of god would do such a thing?”
You lifted your chin in a gesture of audacity. “You call yourself that. But people can call themselves any number of things. And would a true man of god barge into someone’s house and demand to search their things with no evidence of their involvement in any crime?”
The priest’s face was heading toward a shade of puce, but, with effort, his jaw unclenched. “Very well. But I’m certain you’ll understand of we are, as of now, reluctant to have you in the church.”
“Yes, sir.” Losing your job was, really, one of the less-terrible outcomes, and the one you’d expected the most. You had other jobs, though losing the church would be something of a financial loss. Though you also had to consider that you were feeding another mouth, now… That could be a problem.
The priest seemed to take your thoughtful silence as some kind of shameful penitence, because he puffed himself up and nodded. “Take care. We will… see what we can find about the thievery.”
You guided him back to the door. It wasn’t until the door closed and you’d watched him head down the street a good ways before you left out a breath. You made it a few steps down the hall before your entire body demanded that you sit down and tremble for a while.
The priest was gone, for now, but who knew how long until he was back? He didn’t have enough evidence now, but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t find some. Or make some up- all he needed was enough to make the local governor force a search of your house, and there was no way you could hide the angel from that. You covered your face with your hands, trying to breathe slowly. If they found you, they could kill you.
Someone slumped down next to you. The angel. It pressed up close to your side, petting at your shoulder like it had heard about being comforting, but it hadn’t ever experienced it. One of its wings draped over you.
There was quiet for a while. The angel touched its head to yours, eyes closed. It was warm, tucked beneath its wing. Calming. You took deep breaths and thought hard.
The only evidence that you’d taken the angel at all was that the angel was there with you. Maybe there was some other evidence at the scene, but the angel was the big problem. The solution was, obviously, to get rid of the angel.
Well, not get rid of it. More like… set it free. They were still an angel, after all. They’d needed some basic training in how to be a person, but certainly they could survive on their own. And, well, it would ease some of the pressure on you, financial and legal.
The angel shifted next to you. You glanced at them. They gave you a once-over, then stood and headed off to your room. A few seconds later, they reemerged, dragging a fair amount of blankets with them. Before you could ask what they were doing, they had already knelt next to you and were shoving the blankets all around you. They bundled you up and carefully lay you on the ground. For your part, you allowed it to happen. The angel seemed to have something they wanted to do.
Once you were wrapped in blankets and lying down, the angel settled next to you. There was a rather proud look on its face and you realized, with a burst of amusement, that it was trying to get you to sleep, as this was more or less what you’d done with the angel to get it to sleep! Did it think you were tired?
The angel shuffled closer, so there was little space between your bodies, and spread a wing over you. The feathers shrouded you in darkness, though there was enough light to just make out the angel’s face. They were as inexpressive as ever, but they seemed to be studying you. When you stared back, with no indication of closing your eyes, they shifted, clearly uncertain what happened next.
“I’m not tired,” you told them. “Though I appreciate the effort.”
They stared at you for a long moment before, with now warning, hopping to their feet and all but running into the kitchen. You took a moment of peace, wrapped in blankets are you were, before following them.
The angel was rummaging through your breadbox. “Are you hungry? What are you doing?” you asked as you approached. The angel thrust a slice of bread at you. “Er. Thank… you?” The angel waited, watching you. It seemed to be expecting you to eat. Just to appease it, you did so. As soon as you started eating, the angel went back to rummaging through your food supplies. It offered you several pieces of dried fruit next, then a couple of strips of jerky. You took them all, though you stopped eating after the first couple of pieces. Once the angel noticed you weren’t eating, they paused and stared.
“Thank you,” you said, a bit bewildered by what was happening. “Are you okay? I don’t really need anything. Is there a reason you’re giving it to me?”
The angel stared at you. Their brows creased ever so slightly- maybe they were upset. You patted their arm, careful not to drop anything that had given you. “Don’t look so worried. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
The angel looked back at you. Hard to tell what they were thinking, as it always was, but you thought they looked content. They took the food back and placed it away again. “Okay,” you told them. “We’ve got some things we’re going to work on.”
First step of getting the angel to live on its own: teach the angel how to be a person. The eating and sleeping bits were taken care of, and the angel had picked up on clothing and even sewing with surprising speed. Regardless of how little information it had known previously, it seemed all you had to do was give it the information once, and it would retain it. That didn’t make teaching it how to bathe any less difficult. And teaching it how to go to the bathroom- well, the less said of that, the better.
And so the week went. You went to work, leaving the angel to hide in your house, then returned home and taught it what you could. It picked up reading so fast you felt like you were reminding it of something rather than teaching it, and teaching it math and money went the same way. The angel even attempted to cook for you, though it hadn’t picked up that you were seasoning the food initially, so the meal was bland. You merely had to explain that to it, though, and the next meal was much improved.
Your next day off approached, not quickly or slowly, just approached. The angel seemed almost agitated, though, as time passed. More distressed when you left, tenser and quieter when you were around. You hadn’t told them about your plan to send them away- to free them, to free them- but perhaps they’d picked up on it on their own. They were still as silent and expressionless as ever, but they stayed near you, their head lowered as they presented you something they’d cooked, or showed you something they’d cleaned or sewed, waiting for your praise or correction.
When your next day off arrived, the angel’s agitation seemed to peak. It hovered near you, wings tucked close to its back. Even when upset, it didn’t show much expression or even move all that much. It just stood, like a stone statue, unhappiness radiating from it. Still, when you told it you were going for a walk, it didn’t protest. Just looked at you and nodded.
Its compliance made you feel guilty, somehow. Even thought you weren’t doing anything wrong. This was the best path. If they angel stayed, they would just be killed or recaptured. Along with you.
The hike to the woods wasn’t usually long, but you had to go the extended route to keep away from people. The angel hid their wings under a bulky robe. It wasn’t a very good disguise, but from a distance and the right angle, they would hopefully be mistaken as a hunchback.
You led the angel deep into the woods, deeper than you would usually venture. The angel flexed their wings, shifting the cloak. Their distress flowed around them, their eyes burning into your lower back. I’m sorry, you thought, even though you weren’t sure why. This was for the best, so why did it hurt?
It took hours of walking, legs sore, before you stopped in a clearing. It was a large clearing, and more oblong than circular, but it was good enough for your purposes. And those purposes were giving the angel somewhere big enough to take off from.
Admittedly, you weren’t certain it could fly, but the wings seemed large and healthy and it had no trouble with walking or any other physical functions after some initial wobbles. It stood to reason that flight would be no different. The angel looked up at the sky, staring. Its wings spread, extending out and out to their full length. It seemed to be giving them a good stretch- there hadn’t been room in your house to do so. After a moment, it gave a couple experimental flaps. Cool wind buffeted you.
The flaps gained in intensity and, for a moment, you thought it would take off right there. But its wings stilled and slipped shut and it looked at you.
“I got you this.” You thrust a basket at them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was what you could spare (technically probably more than you could spare, but a couple days of broth wouldn’t kill you) and the basket had a fabric strap long enough that the angel could wrap it around their body and hold it while flying.
The angel took the basket and peered at the food and water and clothes and single book you’d stockpiled inside. It looked them over for a moment, then glanced back up at you.
It was the second time you’d seen the angel really emote anything and it was sorrow.
The angel’s eyes watered and its apparent confusion at that development seemed to pale in the face of its clear upset. It practically threw the basket back at you, wings spreading and sending a powerful gust across the clearing. Then it opened its mouth and did something you’d never seen it do before.
It wailed. A keening sound of despair. You’d never heard it make any kind of noise before. In fact, it seemed startled by the fact that it had made any kind of noise, though, like the crying, that didn’t seem to stop it. Instead, the angel crumpled to the ground, wings striking the dirt, and wailed.
That wasn’t quite the reaction you’d been expecting. Maybe some protest, but not the clear despair it was displaying. “H-hey, don’t- you’re okay.” You approached the angel cautiously. Its wings kept flexing and slapping against the ground and there was an impressive amount of force behind them. Still, it didn’t direct any of the hits toward you, so it felt reasonably safe to approach.
As soon as you were within a few feet of it, the angel scrambled forward. You almost bolted, but the angel didn’t attack like you though it might. It pressed its forehead to the dirt an inch from your boots and spread its wings, every feather on end and quivering. When you tried to take a step back, the angel shuffled forward, pressing its head even more firmly to the ground. It seemed to be trembling.
Your heart ached. What were you doing?
“Look, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it would be safer if you weren’t… But I didn’t mean to upset you.” You knelt next to the angel and placed your hand on its head. The angel went still. For a moment, the stillness was like a frightened dog, expecting a strike, then it melted into a gentle contentedness.
It took a couple moments before the angel was quiet completely again. They lifted their head, face sticky from tears and a bit of dirt smudged along their cheeks. The entire scene was a little pathetic. “Here.” You pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed at their face. After a moment of letting you do so, they took it and cleaned their own face off.
Once its face was clear and it had calmed down a little, the angel looked at you balefully. It seemed to be waiting. Almost resigned. But still frightened. Like it was waiting for a scolding or punishment.
“Are you okay now?” you asked. The angel looked balefully at you. One of its hands lifted, like it was reaching out for you, but it paused before it could make contact. Its head drooped. Its wings drooped too, proud feathers dragging in the dirt. “I’m sorry,” you said again. The angel curled in on itself further. Its eyes were on the ground. “I’m not trying to send you away, all right?”
One of the feathered ear-things on the side of its head twitched. You took that as an invitation to continue. “I thought… I thought you’d be safer if you left, though.”
The angel looked up at that. They didn’t change their expression much, but they were staring intently. You reached out, slowly enough that they could move away if they wanted to. They didn’t, and you were able to rest your hand on the side of their head. Your fingers brushed against the soft, downy little feathers of their ear-wings and the somewhat-tangled mess of their hair. The angel closed their eyes and leaned into your touch. Their entire body shuddered in a sigh. “The people who captured you are still here,” you continued. “If they find you, they’re going to hurt both of us. Maybe kill us.”
The angel leaned away from your touch and lifted its gaze to yours. They were focused on you, intently so. “It’s best if you leave,” you told them. “They won’t be able to find you if you fly away, and they won’t be able to tie anything to me, either. We’ll both be safer.”
It was quiet for several moments. The angel stared at you, their wings twitching with aborted motions. They looked between you and the sky, over and over. Their brows wrinkled. Then, in a flash, they reached out and enveloped you.
Technically, it was just a hug, but the angel’s sheer size and the addition of their wings made it so much more. They surrounded you, tucking you into their chest and holding you close. You could feel their heartbeat, jackrabbiting under their ribs, and their heavy breathing. They were soft and warm around you. One of their hands moved to cradle the back of your head.
You cried. It wasn’t a lot of crying. Mostly it was some particularly wet breathing and a few tears. But the angel held you closer, rocking you against its soft chest and you felt warm and shielded. It presses its cheek to the top of your head and you felt one of its ear-wings flapping, like it was stretching out to touch you.
It was a nice moment, but it couldn’t last. You stopped crying and slipped your way back out of the angel’s arms. They let you, tucking their wings back against their back again and their arms falling back against their sides. Looking into their face, you felt… guilty? That didn’t seem fair. You were doing this for their own good. Right?
The longer you looked at them, the less you could convince yourself of that. Your shoulders drooped and a fresh wave of tears came to your eyes. The angel didn’t want to leave. You wanted them to leave, because them staying there would be a problem for you. A genuine problem, yes, a problem that could get you killed. But it wasn’t fair to pretend that this was good for the angel, nor was it fair to ignore how the angel was feeling. It didn’t want to leave. It was terrified when it realized you were going to try to make it leave.
You hung your head. “I’m sorry.” The angel watched you. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I don’t want you to leave, but we’re both going to be in trouble if you stay. We need a way to keep you safe, but I don’t know how to do that, and I can’t think clearly about it when I’m going to be in trouble if you get found out too-” Your voice choked off, breath heaving in panic. You scrubbed the heel of your hand against your eyes until it hurt, until the pain grounded you.
Fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging it away from your eyes. The angel was holding onto you, both hands wrapping around your wrist. Their strength was more than you’d anticipated. Perhaps it was their general softness or their seeming clumsiness or cluelessness, but you’d never seen them as particularly tough.
The hand that held your wrist, however, was not weak. It was firm and unyielding. When you pulled away, it let you go without a hint of resistance, but you had no doubt that if it had wanted to keep hold of you, you wouldn’t have been going anywhere.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said. “I wasn’t sure if you would understand.”
The angel brushed its hand gently along the side of your face, cupping your cheek. Its face wasn’t terribly expressive, but there was something calmer, almost serene in its expression. It got to its feet, shaking out its wings, and extended its hand for you. There was a stunned moment before you took the hand and the angel pulled you to your feet. They kept your hand around theirs as they gathered up the basket you’d initially made for them and started to leave the clearing.
You let them lead you along until you realized they were leading you straight back to the village, and even when you got quite close to the buildings, they were not slowing down. “Wait,” you said. “What are you doing?” The angel gave your hand a squeeze, but they didn’t slow down. Anxiety prickled over your skin as you entered the town and headed toward the center.
People barely noticed you at first, but within a few minutes of marching through the town, people had started to point and stare. And then the staring turned into whispers and awe. Some people scrambled away. Some people gathered and followed from a distance, watching in something like awe.
You gave up on trying to stop them and instead walked alongside them to whisper furiously. “Hey. What are you doing? Do you have some kind of plan? I can’t tell what’s going through your head right now. I’m kind of just assuming you know what you’re doing, but it’d be nice to have some kind of confirmation.”
The angel squeezed your hand again. Their thumb traced over your knuckles. Their expression was serene, calm, like they’d just realized something that comforted them. It was reassuring to you, so you allowed them to drag you wherever they wanted to take you.
Until you realized they were dragging you toward the church.
“Wait.” You didn’t try to pull away again, but you did trip over yourself in your realization, making the angel slow down. “You can’t be serious- we can’t go there! That’s the exact place we’re supposed to be avoiding.”
The angel stared at you for a moment, then released your hand. It nodded to you before turning and heading toward the church again.
“Wha- wait!” The angel paused, allowing you to catch up. “You’re still going, huh?”
The angel stared at you. You sighed. “Okay. I guess we’re going, then.
The angel held out a hand. You took it once more. Together, you walked toward the church.
As soon as you stepped through the doorway, the angel drew itself up, wings fluffing. The entire thing was quite intimidating to watch, given its already tall stature. It glanced around, as if assessing the space. Warm, honey-gold sunlight filtered through the tall, stained glass windows and illuminating the wood of the benches. When the sunlight hit the angel, it seemed to surround them, glimmering off their body in a way that wasn’t quite natural. Almost like a halo around its entire body.
You waited, mostly trying to see what the angel was going to do next. As it turned out, you didn’t have to wait very long, because a pissed-looking priest stormed into the sanctuary.
“The beast returns to holy ground,” he snarled. You stepped in front of the angel, arms spread.
“They’re not a beast. You’re the one who captured them and chained them in your basement. They haven’t done anything!”
“They have been cast out of the divine host. Their fall and subsequent capture are what is deserved for those who would defy our Lord.” The priest didn’t sound enraged or even particularly vicious. His tone was cool and cold. He approached, steps clunking heavily against the cool wooden floor of the church. You resisted the urge to step back and steeled your resolve as the priest approached. The angel didn’t seem to be doing much, though you could feel their presence at your back. “Your assistance with their disobedience is a serious strike against you, but the Lord God will welcome all stray members back to his flock, provided you are willing to repent and return the beast to its confinement.”
The priest was leaning into your face, so close you could feel his breath touching your skin. The angel was still unmoving, but there was more tension to their body now. Like a big cat getting into a crouch.
Your breath was trembling, but you managed a clear enough whisper. “Fuck off.”
The priest leaned back. “Hm. Very well. May God have mercy on your soul.” The gestured toward a couple of men standing toward the back of the church. They started to approach, brandishing their short swords. “I would suggest surrender,” the priest said. “Unless you are eager to find out how the Lord God punishes those who disobey his-”
The angel lunged. Its wing brushed against your shoulder as it darted around you and slammed into the priest. He fell, the angel on top of him. Their wings shielded you from seeing what they were doing, but the choked gurgle from the priest let you know enough about what was happening.
The guards, who had been standing on either side of the aisle, near the pulpit, charged. One of them nearly caught the angel with their sword, but the angel managed to recoil just in time, leaving the priest gasping for air on the ground. The guards moved up, pushing the angel back as they blocked the priest from it. Together, they pushed the angel back a few more steps, advancing threateningly, until the angel glanced back and saw you. It stopped, digging its feet in, and turned back to the guards.
The angel spread their wings, blockading the entire aisle. It was difficult to see what happened next, but there was a scrambling noise of footsteps and the angel tucked their wings in and lunged.
Thanks to the armor the guards were wearing, this struggle was more prolonged. The angel’s wings flapped, coming down on the guard they were fighting with blows stronger than a fist could hope to achieve. One of the angel’s hands clutched at the guard’s wrist, driving the sword away from the angel’s belly. They wrestled the guard slowly to the ground, clawing at them with nails that seemed too long and sharp and stomping hard enough that the guard’s armor dented under their feet.
Chills wracked your body as you watched. The angel was a mortal, yes, but you’d clearly forgotten: mortal was not the same thing as human. And the strength with which the angel was tearing into the guard was not human.
And then a cold metal line settled against your throat. Sharp and cruel. A hand locked around your torso, pinning your arms to your sides. Icy terror settled into your brain and every vein in your body. Right. The angel was taking care of one of the guards. But there had been two.
“Call off the fucking bird,” the guard said, “before I slit your throat.”
The sheer terror in his voice should have made the threat less effective, but realizing that he was scared enough to kill you without thought was nearly enough to make you start begging for your life immediately. The angel whipped around as the first terrified whimper escaped your mouth.
It was the third time you’d seen the angel truly express emotion. And they were angry.
They bared their teeth and stretched their wings out, flexing them to nearly their full span. It was an impressive display, and a terrifying one. The knife dug a little more into your throat. Panic clawed your belly to shreds.
“Fucking stupid worthless shit,” the guard cursed behind you. The knife kept trembling at your throat, threatening to nick a little too deep. The angel watched, brows deeply knitted. It twitched its wings a few times, freezing when the blade drew blood at your throat. “You fucking take one step closer and your little pet human bleeds out like a pig,” the guard said. It wasn’t even a vicious or snarling threat. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. But the knife was just as sharp and the trembling was making it slip against your skin in a dangerous fashion.
The angel paused. It straightened up out of its attack crouch, wings tucking against its back. The knife eased at your throat a little. The angel took in a slow, deep breath, eyes on you. Its expression relaxed into something gentler as it met your eyes. It seemed to take a deep breath. Its wings relaxed. It closed its eyes. And it began to sing.
It wasn’t singing with its mouth or vocal cords. It was the same singing you’d heard in the beginning, the singing that had drawn you to the church’s basement. Less like the vocalization of a human, but more like an emotion made into pure sound. It vibrated through your limbs and settled in your chest, a heavy weight of sadness and fear.
The song pulsed, rose and fell, over and over again, thrumming and pulsing and changing as it went. It started as a terrible projection of fear and pain, injury and despair. Then the pain was threaded with hope, then a joy and relief so palpable it was its own kind of pain. Peace and comfort followed that, almost like being settled in a warm bed after a nice meal. Then an abrupt sharpening of terror and sadness before turning to determination, then blind, horrible rage. The anger pressed in around you, bearing down like a sharpened spear. But the rage wasn’t quite aimed at you. It was aimed at the man holding you. And being the target of an angel’s pure rage, even when nothing physical is being done with it, is a daunting prospect. The guard’s knees went weak and the knife at your throat wavered.
The song intensified. Your own legs were trembling under the weight of it. Anger and hope and fear and happiness and even love, pressing down on you, emotion given a deep, physical property. You sobbed, barely feeling the knife at your throat. Had it fallen away? Could you just not feel it anymore? What was real? All that was real was the song and the love that was building in the song, growing more intense around you. It was insulating, like the angel was trying to wrap you in the song until you were surrounded by care, until there was nothing else in the world.
You blinked your eyes. They hadn’t been closed, but you hadn’t been seeing anything. It had been more like the world had shifted slightly out of focus and you were just getting it back to center.
You were lying down across a lap. The shifting of wings above you let you know whose lap you were lying across. The angel was holding you, cradling your head against its body. There was still the faintest traces of song humming from it, though it wasn’t the great, overbearing crescendo it had once been. You made an attempt to sit up and the angel shifted around you, letting you move while still offering support.
“What happened?” you asked. You felt woozy, a bit out-of-body. The angel, obviously, didn’t say anything, but it did stretch one of its wings toward the crumpled shape of the other guard. He was lying on the ground, unmoving. “Is he-” you started, then stopped when you realized his chest was rising and falling. He seemed stunned, like you’d been a few moments ago.
You twisted your head around to get a better look at the rest of the room and winced. Stinging pain radiated from your neck. The angel nudged your hand away and ran its fingers over the lines cut into your skin. Right, the knife. They didn’t seem to be actively bleeding anymore, so they must not have been deep, but the angel still seems distressed by their very presence.
“Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head back to look up into their face. The angel stares back at you, their ear-wings folded calmly against either side of their head. They seemed physically unhurt, or they weren’t in so much pain that they were showing it. “Good.” You sorted through your muddled thoughts. The song had hit you so hard, it was almost like your own body had gone through all those emotions it had conveyed at a rapid pace. No wonder the guard was stunned. Your head was swimming. But then your brain finally catches on a thought and you startle. “The priest!”
The angel caught you as you attempted to scramble upright and assisted you to your feet. The priest was close to the pulpit, but he was as collapsed as the guard. He seemed to be recovering faster, though that primarily consisted of him flopping his limbs in all directions. You approached, the angel close behind you.
The priest stared up at you as you got within speaking range. His face was completely under his control, unlike the rest of him, and a sneer contorted his expression. “You cannot win against His holy will. God will ensure that His holy justice will-”
“Uh huh,” you said. “He doesn’t really seem to be doing too much smiting right now, though.” The priest groaned on the ground, grinding his teeth.
“Are you going to kill me?” he said, a semi-hysterical laugh bubbling from his lips. “It’s no matter. I will return to His Holiness and my eternal home in heaven. And you- do you think you’ll be able to stay here with blood on your hands and that beast stalking your footsteps?”
“They’re not a beast,” you snapped before forcibly calming yourself. “I’m not going to kill you.” The angel shifted, clearly irritated, but you held up your hand to them. “I don’t have anything to kill you for. You haven’t done anything to me. Not really.” You turned to the angel. “It’s their decision. If they want you dead- that’s up to them. Not me.”
The angel watched you as you spoke, then it turned its gaze to the priest. You placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. Well, close to its shoulder. The angel was very tall. There was a moment of silence. The angel’s wings twitched. Maybe it was hesitant to try and kill now that it wasn’t the heat of the moment. Maybe it was weighing the pros and cons. The priest rolled onto his stomach and groaned.
The angel turned and pressed a kiss to your head. It happened so fast, you didn’t register it until the angel was turning and grabbing the man on the ground. They hefted him up by his lapels and started hauling him out of the church. You hurried along behind them.
It took only a few moments for the angel to make it to the enormous front doors of the church. They shoved them open with only one hand, sending more light across the sanctuary and revealing the large crowd of people milling around. At least half the town was gathered outside the church, presumably drawn by the commotion and the sight of an angel. The angel looked around them with what seemed to be satisfaction, then hefted the priest again, holding the man out in front of them. Then the angel extended their wings to their full length, drew the priest in close again, so their faces were mere inches apart, and began another song.
The previous song, the one inside the church, had been intense like holding your hand over an open flame, but this was intense like having a spear driven slowly into your brain. This was focused, purposeful. A spire of anger and pain. The world flickered behind your eyes, an image pressed against your brain- the memory of being thrown away, then lost, then trapped. The rage and grief and panic of being trapped. The priest’s face loomed down at you, sneering, cold, and the terror that welled inside of you twisted not just your stomach but your entire being. You were cast out and alone and the only thing you could do was scream as someone else caged you.
At some point, the angel had dropped the priest. They stepped closer to you, tucking their wings about you as the song ended, trembling and weak. They seemed tired, their wings drooping along with their posture. Their body slumped. They weren’t leaning against you, but they were swaying toward you. You reached up to take their face in your hands.
“You okay?” you asked. The angel blinked at you. A few more notes trembled out of it. You could feel them pass from the angel into you. And with them, something like an image: you, scoring out lines of text on a wall with a makeshift chisel, gently dimming the blinding brightness of the room to the comfortable darkness. The angel gave a long, shuddering sigh, then slumped forward until its body weight was slowly but surely crushing you.
The angel was asleep before either of you hit the ground. The priest didn’t seem to be doing much better. He was curled on the ground, occasionally twitching. Maybe he was crying, you weren’t sure. A couple of people walked over toward him, but no one seemed particularly worried. Had everyone else heard the song and made the connection too? Perhaps the angel had just been trying to tell its story. Maybe that was its revenge- making the entire town turn against him.
By the point you’d processed that information, you’d been smushed to the ground. The angel was big enough that you really couldn’t lift them at your best, and you were exhausted by the day. After only a couple seconds to shoving, you resigned yourself to being on the ground.
Footsteps shuffled closer and you looked up to see a few of your neighbors around you. “Need help?” an older man, one you recognized as someone who taught at the local university. You curled one arm protectively over the angel, cautious. “We’re not gonna hurt ‘em. Just trying to help get you home.”
You considered. Then nodded. The angel stirred as a few people worked together to lift it off of you, but it settled when you patted its arm. Slowly, you and the angel returned to your home.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting after you got to your house. For that moment, you didn’t expect anything at all, except for a long nap because you were exhausted. And you did get that, lying in the blanket pile on your floor with the angel. They practically crawled on top of you several times, and your subsequent crawling away so you weren’t crushed to death ended with the blanket pile being almost dragged to the other side of the room. The angel was, of course, never deterred, and it was on top of you by morning.
What you hadn’t anticipated happening at all was the gifts that kept appearing at your house. Clearly, your neighbors were dropping them off. Notes were often attached, sometimes independent of any gifts- wishing you well, giving you messages of support, and expressions of general kindness. There was food in the pile, from vegetables to fresh cheese and bread, as well as some cloth and even a quilt. That one, in particular, made tears come to your eyes. It had clearly been in a closet for a while, given the musty smell, but it was handmade and the kindness of the gesture was unmistakable.
It took you some time to remember what most of these gifts were for- not until you read the last note on the pile. It was from the town’s doctor, a simple gift of a few herbs used for healing, though they were in bundles too small to be useful. The note was simply ‘For health, luck, and peace.’”
The gifts, the note and herbs. You knew what they were for. You’d participated in the tradition before, though your gifts had been pretty paltry. They were traditional gifts given to a newcomer, sometimes when there was a baby born, but also sometimes when a person in the town married someone from outside the town. Gifts of welcome and acceptance.
You returned to the angel, arms laden with the gifts, and offered them to it. The angel seemed vaguely overwhelmed by them, but accepted them nonetheless. It still seemed tired, and so you spent the day at home, quiet and undisturbed. You bathed the angel, scrubbing bits of blood off it and trying to get the feathers of its wings clean. The angel, after some insistence, ended up bathing you, as well, and it fussed over the few bruises you’d gained in the fight. Another night was spent curled in the same nest-bed. This time, you just let the angel flatten you with its body. It was sort of cozy.
The next day, you returned to the church. The town was still a little quiet- there weren’t as many people out as there would usually be- but the people you did see nodded politely to you. Their nods were a little longer, a little lower, than they usually would be. Almost like slight bows. Though you weren’t entirely sure why they would be bowing at you. Perhaps they were bowing to the angel at your back.
The church seemed strangely abandoned, despite it having only been a bit over a day since everything had happened. The guard’s body was still crumpled on the floor, some blood splattered around him and dried to the floor. You approached it. The angel followed, though their wings fluffed up with agitation.
There wasn’t much else you could do with the body. You lifted it, with the angel’s help, and placed it on a pew. You cleaned the blood and viscera on the floor. Then, finally, you took the body downstairs, stripped it, and wrapped it in the white funeral cloth. The angel helped, with an expression on its face that seemed mournful, though it was hard to be sure.
Perhaps you could have left it like that, left the man wrapped in cloth and walked home. But it felt weird to do so. The angel helped you carry the man up into the graveyard. Then you dug out a pit and placed the body in it before burying them.
The angel knelt next to the grave, resting a hand on the dirt. “Sorry,” you told the grave. You weren’t sure where the other two were- the other guard and the priest, but you hadn’t seen them. Perhaps they’d been driven out. The townspeople certainly seemed to have taken your side. The man in the grave wasn’t entirely innocent- he had certainly seemed willing to kill or hurt the both of you. But you felt weird. The other two had lived. He hadn’t. Luck of the draw.
The angel leaned against you, just enough to feel the warmth of their presence. You sighed. They were safe, at the very least, and they were accepted by the town.
You looked at the angel. “What do you want to do now?”
The angel looked back at you. They blinked, once, slowly. Then they took your hand and pulled you into the church.
You knew where you were going before you got there. The heavy doors were solidly sealed, though no longer chained. The angel opened them, letting go of your hand as they did so. They stepped through the doorway, then looked back at you. You stepped forward and took their hand. And so, they led you back down to the basement.
The room was pitch black. You stretched out your hand and felt the rough walls. As you continued, you could feel the words carved into the stone, and some of the scratches and gouges where you’d carved the words away.
The angel moved toward the center of the room, away from the walls, and you followed them. They moved to the spot they’d been chained in. One of their hands was still around yours. The darkness of the room pressed in on you, so black there was no difference between your eyes being open or closed. The angel’s hand remained, the only point of contact in the room. Their thumb brushed over your knuckles, their fingers intertwining with yours. You could hear their breathing. You breathed, too. Together, in the small, dark room where you’d first met. There was nothing else. There was only the room.
The angel tugged on your hand, and you moved with them until you were flush against their chest. They hugged you, briefly, then sighed. It shuddered through all their bones on the way out, and seemed to take something with it. Like something they had been holding onto was released.
Then they pulled on your hand again and led you back out of the basement.
When you emerged into an area that was light enough to see, you caught sight of the angel’s face. It was the fourth time you had seen the angel really emote. And it was happy. There was a certain level of sadness or mournfulness to it as well. But the angel was smiling. Its gaze turned to you and it smiled wider still.
You cleaned the church for a while. It felt more like habit than anything else. Although there was something quite satisfying about going through the priest’s office and dumping everything onto the street. There should have been other officials in the church, but there weren’t any. Perhaps they’d fled when the priest was deposed, perhaps they’d just not wanted to stick around now that the angel they’d trapped was free. Who could say. You weren’t overly fussed at the loss.
When you emerged into the sanctuary, sore and a bit grimy, there were people there.
It was just a couple, a man and a woman. Then you saw the bundle they were clutching between them. A baby, presumably one born not too long ago. It squirmed a little in the blankets, but it didn’t cry. Its breathing seemed… maybe a little labored? You weren’t sure- you weren’t expert in babies.
The angel seemed to perk up when it noticed this, eyes intent, though it made no move to get closer to the couple. “Hello,” the woman ventured. You wracked your brain for their names. Tabitha, maybe? And the man was… Gerald? “We- we, ah.” Her voice quavered and she held the baby a little tighter.
“We came here for a blessing,” Gerald said. “We weren’t sure…”
Oh. Their baby was ill. “You might want to go to the town doctor,” you suggested.
“We were there,” Tabitha insisted. “They gave us medicine. But just in case we…” She glanced around the church, clearly anxious.
Right. They would want a blessing for their baby. One that would maybe grant good health, or at least a peaceful passing and a safe journey after, if not. You chewed the inside of your lip, unwilling to turn them away. But it wasn’t like you knew how to perform a blessing, or hand any authority to do so-
The angel caught your wrist and started tugging you along toward them. The couple huddled closer together at the sight of the angel, but both of them remained there. There was something in their expressions… perhaps awe? Perhaps even a flicker of hope. The angel stopped in front of them. Its hand shifted on your wrist until it was properly holding hands with you. Then it extended its other hand toward the couple.
They barely hesitated before holding their child out.
The angel didn’t quite touch the child, but their hand hovered over them. The air hummed with the faintest vibrations of a song. The baby squirmed. Your hand, the one the angel was holding, felt warm.
And then it was over. The angel dropped their hand. Their ear-wings fluttered a few times. They dipped their head to the parents in a slight bow.
“Thank you,” Tabitha whispered. She clutched the baby to her chest and it kicked its little legs a few times. “Thank you.”
The baby lived. Maybe it was the blessing, or maybe it was the medicine, it wasn’t clear. But clearly work had gotten around, because people came to you for blessings at least once a day. The angel always obliged, though they refused to work if you weren’t around, and they nearly always looked to you for something like permission before they performed the blessing. The only time they didn’t was when they were performing one for young kids or babies.
Perhaps the blessings was why you set up station in the church. It was easier for people to get to than your house, and the angel didn’t seem particularly bothered by being there. Sometimes, the people who came for blessings wanted to talk, too, and you were better suited for it than the angel. They listened, certainly, but people who were emotionally worn down didn’t tend to react well to an angel staring them down with a blank expression. You gave all the advice you could, which wasn’t much. They seemed to be happy after talking with you, though, so you kept at it.
The days settled into a steady routine. You would head to the church and take care of problems that any people had, be it by distributing blessings or by just talking to them. Then you’d gather the donations that had been left overnight and sort through them. The angel was a good help whenever you had to clean- their wings allowed them to get to areas in the high, sloping ceiling that you could never manage.
When they weren’t cleaning or blessing, they tended to hover around you. Not in an oppressive way- they just were usually nearby. Sometimes, if your mood turned, they would come closer, settling next to you, and either stretching their wings out toward you or draping their torso against you. The touch was comforting, and you found yourself responding similarly to their mood. You could almost sense when they were anxious, and they seemed pleased when you were nearby.
You’d just finished administering advice to a small crowd of worried people about a spate of rapid deaths and had settled down to look through the few offerings that had been left when it hit you. “Ah, fuck,” you said. The angel glanced over at you, ear wings twitching. “I’m a priest now, aren’t I?”
The angel headed over and flumped down next to you. Their wings wrapped around you in a comforting manner. “I give blessings and advice, I maintain the church, people leave offerings. Isn’t that a priest?”
The angel squeezed you with its wings. It nuzzled its head against yours. “I mean, I’m not a priest of God,” you mused out loud. “I don’t think I care much about Him.” You looked down at the angel, who stilled under your gaze and tilted its head until it was looking into your eyes. “I guess if I am a priest, I would be one for you, right? That makes me your priest.”
The angel shuddered. The motion trembled through its wings, making every feather stand on end. Its eyes went wide. Then it surged forward to mash its lips with yours.
It was so startling that you simply fell backward, unable to stand up against the angel’s enthusiasm. “Woah, woah, hey!” you said as the angel fumbled on top of you. One of your hands found the back of their head and tangled in their hair. The angle went still. “You okay?”
The angel closed its eyes and sang a few notes. An image rose into your mind- an image of you, leaning over the angel, your arms outstretched and a smile on your face. The emotion the angel felt surged so powerfully you could feel it in your fingertips. Vague other images swam through your mind- images of a couple kissing and a sense of both curiosity and jealousy, images of you and a deep sense of affection, and images of the town with a sense of protectiveness. The final image was one of you and the angel, wrapped together in each others’ arms, and the sense of want that came from that image made your breath catch.
When you came back to yourself, the song fading, the angel was blinking down at you. Their eyes were wet. You reached up and they leaned into your touch as soon as it met their cheek.
“Okay,” you said. “We can try this too. Let me show you.” Your other hand went back into their hair and you pulled them down for a kiss.
It was enthusiastic, if unskilled. When you broke away for air, the angel kissed furiously at every bit of skin they could reach. Scattered bits of song slipped from their lungs, tingling along your skin and mind in dizzying fashion.
Eventually, the angel backed off, apparently exhausted by the outburst of emotion. They slumped on the ground next to you, though there was an apparent reluctance to break contact. They kept a hand on your stomach, feeling you breathe. For your part, the connection sent wild sparks running through your body.
“I’m glad you’re here,” you said after a few moments. The angel tugged you closer, pressing its face to the top of your head and heaving a contented sigh. Even without the song, all you could sense in the slow, steady breath was love, love, love.
#exophilia#monster lover#monster romance#fallen angel#angel partner#fallen angel story#the angel#idk man this took too long and i don't even know if I like the ending but it's HERE NOW
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welcome back! just some simple domestic fluff with mike faist and famous reader! get to this whenever you feel like it! lots of love<3
thank you for the kindness! <3
i’ve missed writing for mike! also have you guys seen the new challengers trailer AHHHHH IM SO EXCITED IT LOOKS SO GOOD!!! i have a few challengers themed mike stories in my inbox/drafts, so expect those somewhat soon ;)
also it’s been a long time since i’ve written a fluff fic, so sorry if this sucks lol
fem reader x mike faist
warnings: anxiety and mentions of depression
Worthy
•
you loved nearly everything about your life. being an actress, singer, and now a writer has given you more confidence than anything else.
you started as an actress. ever since you were little, you would put on shows for your entire family with costumes and scripts. they weren’t simple either; you would perform full dramatic monologues, emotional scenes, and romantic moments with your stuffed animals. your mom didn’t have to hesitate putting you into acting classes.
into your teen years, you booked commercials and small roles in children’s shows. then, right when you turned eighteen, you got your big break when you gained a major role in a movie alongside some of hollywood’s biggest stars, directed by none other than steven spielberg.
from there, business offers and acting gigs flew in. everything seemed to be happening all at once. it was all so overwhelming. but fame is what you wanted, right?
that’s what you thought, at least. as a child, you glamorized the picturesque hollywood starlight life. you wanted everything from the glitz to the glam. you didn’t realize that being famous came with this sense of dread that one wrong move could end your entire career. you felt unworthy of being in the spotlight all the time. so, in order to keep those intrusive thoughts from rearing their ugly heads, you kept so busy that not even a single thought could even cross your mind.
you knew you could sing, and you began writing songs and releasing music. you even went on a north american tour. then, when the tour slowed down, you wrote a novel. you kept so busy that you lost track of who you really were. what you felt you were meant to do.
sure, you had success and had more connections and fans than anyone could dream of. but what did it matter when you felt so alone?
you began closing yourself off. the limelight was making you anxious, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be seen in public in the state you were in. it all felt so hopeless. you considered living of the grid and going incognito in order to escape the expectations placed on you. for months, you stayed as hidden as possible, and it only made things worse.
being a long time friend of steven spielberg at this point, he sent you a personal invite to the premiere his new film west side story. you almost threw the invite in the trash. the thought of going out on a red carpet again and seeing all of these faces with bright, flashing cameras was out of the equation for you. yet, you missed the feeling of being dolled up. you missed feeling pretty.
when the big night came, seeing yourself in the dress that you had picked out didn’t feel real. you felt like you and not you all at the same time. your mind was conflicted; you knew the glam of hollywood was what made you happy, but since it had been so long since you have felt that way, you felt oddly out of body.
it was a long, off white dress with a leg slit and a completely open back. the dress had sleeves that stopped just below your shoulders, and it hugged your body tightly but not uncomfortably. your wavy hair fell onto your shoulders neatly in a half up half down, your curtain bangs framing your face. for the makeup, you tried to keep it relatively natural, and you didn’t want to draw too many eyes. you paired the look with some heels and a purse.
looking in the mirror, you tried your hardest to feel positive. you looked beautiful, you felt beautiful, yet something still felt wrong. maybe it was because you had no one by your side if you got anxious. as far as you knew, you would know one person there.
the car sent to pick you up took you on a ride through new york as your heart rate quickened. when you arrived at the scene, the bright lights and red carpet gave you chills.
after walking into the crowd, it didn’t take long to find steven. he pulled you aside into a fatherly hug. it felt good to be near someone as familiar as him.
“Y/N, long time no see!” he said excitedly as you hugged him.
“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you replied, pulling away.
“what have you been up to? knowing you, i’m sure it’s something great!”
you smiled, trying to create a facade. “oh, you know, a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” you said while nervously laughing. you couldn’t tell steven spielberg that you’ve been in a slump and that the most productive part of your day is waking up and making something to eat.
“i’m excited to see whatever you have up your sleeve,” he said, going to your side and taking your arm. “now, there’s someone i’d like you to meet.”
he guided you through the crowds, and you kept close to him. everything was becoming overwhelming.
you approached a man with his back turned to you. “Y/N, meet mike faist. you two could have a lot to talk about.”
the man turned around, and the first thing you noticed about him was that his eyes seemed to be glowing. they were brighter and bluer than anything you’d ever seen. they were absolutely stunning. upon further inspection, you realized that you recognized him from the posters for the movie, and knew he was playing riff.
he smiled at you, almost as enthralled with you as you were with him. he held out a hand, and you took it gently to shake it. you hoped he didn’t feel the sweat building on your palms. “Y/N L/N, it’s lovely to meet you.”
you grew flustered. “how’d you know my last name?”
mike looked taken aback. “doesn’t everyone?” your smile fell slightly, and mike noticed. “i’m a big fan of your work. your songs, your movies, and i recently started reading your book too. you’re amazing at everything you do.”
steven patted your shoulder before walking away, leaving you with mike. mike had a presence about him that made you feel welcomed and seen. it’s been a while since you felt that way.
“so, mike, what else have you been in?” you asked, wanting to know more about his work. he knew so much about yours, and you felt a little embarrassed that you didn’t know more about him.
he smiled and looked down. “i was a newsie in newsies on broadway, and i covered jack kelly. i played connor murphy in dear evan hansen on broadway, i was in a tv show called panic, and a lot of other stage and film work.”
you nodded, squinting your eyes slightly. “you know, i’ve seen both of those shows on broadway, and i didn’t realize until just now that that was you.”
he laughed. “am i not memorable?”
you giggled in return. “i don’t think it’s that. i just think i’m missing a little part of my brain.”
you and mike continued to talk about your respective careers. you noticed that he was so easy to talk to, and that he listened to and hung onto every word that you would say. it gave you butterflies, and you wondered what was wrong with you.
sadly, you remembered you’re at mike’s movie premiere and he had to do interviews and talk to other people besides you. you could tell he wanted to stay with you, but knew he had other obligations. before he left, he said, “we’ll see each other again before the night is through.”
you’ve had plenty of men try and charm you, with the efforts always falling flat. you’re no stranger to keeping your feelings under control and learning to not date in hollywood. it was too easy to be played by the wrong guys. but, your heart was telling you something different about mike. he made you more nervous and giddy than anyone else ever had and you barely knew him. you started to forget about the fact that you’ve been a hermit battling with your mental health for the last few months.
you caught up with a few old friends from the industry that you had recognized in the crows before it was time to go to a private screening of the film.
you watched as everyone funneled into seats in the theater next to their plus ones and friends. you stood back, scoping the area for empty seats. you felt frozen as all the seats seemed to fill.
“follow me,” a voice said close to your ear before taking your hand and walking with you down the rows of seats. you noticed it was mike and you smiled to yourself.
he took you close to the screen, but not too close, and sat down with you. you sighed. “thanks for saving me back there, i was getting stressed.”
mike tilted his head. “you’re from around here. you’re used to red carpets and screenings, aren’t you? i didn’t think this would stress out someone as experienced as you.”
he was right, it shouldn’t have stressed you out. you were so used to hiding away for so long that this all felt new to you again like it did when you were eighteen.
mike noticed your expression change, and he turned to you. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything. but you’re worrying me a bit, is everything okay?”
you tried to brush it off. “i’m fine now, really. crowds just get me anxious-”
“i’m not just talking about tonight,” mike said, leaning in towards you. “the world has caught onto your unprecedented disappearance from the public eye. that can never mean anything good. are you sure you’re okay?”
you bit your lip, holding back tears. it was one thing to keep everything to yourself and pack it away and never confront what you’re actually going through, but to hear someone else say it put it into perspective for you. you had completely lost track of your vision and goal in life. you had lost track of you.
mike put his hand on your leg comfortingly, taking the silence and the glossy tears hidden in your eyes as a sign that you weren’t okay. the silent support he sent was exactly what you needed in that moment. a stranger was the person you least expected to comfort you.
before you could both think to say anything else, steven appeared at the front of the crowd and gave a speech, followed by the showing of the movie. every time mike appeared on the screen, you got chills. he was amazing. his performance made you hate riff yet feel some kind of empathy for him. that was due to mike’s spellbinding performance.
occasionally, you would feel mike’s eyes glance at you when important scenes came up. it’s almost as if he wanted to see your reaction. he wanted your approval.
then, after two and a half short hours, the movie ended, and the theater erupted in applause. everyone stood on their feet and you did the same, small tears running down your cheeks. you looked at mike, and his smile dropped when he saw you.
“why are you crying?” he asked.
you sniffled. “it was so amazing. you were so amazing.”
mike turned red, and he reached down to envelope you in probably the best hug you’ve ever had. he had the widest grin, and it wasn’t just from the movie.
you and mike traded numbers, and from that night on, you became inseparable.
*
mike awoke something in you that hadn’t been seen in a long time. he made you feel inspired at motivated and comfortable. you hid yourself away from the world in fear that the public would turn on you, twist your words into something far from the truth. mike dispelled those feelings for you; you felt like yourself again around him.
after the night at the premiere, mike made the first move in wanting to talk to you. you face timed each other for hours each night, staying awake into the early hours of the morning just talking about anything and everything.
you went out for a coffee date a week after the premiere, and it seemed clear to both of you that there was more to be discovered than just a friendship.
as you were walking through central park with mike, keeping your head slightly down as to not attract any unwanted eyes, you boldly brushed your hand against his, letting it linger for a moment. his hand moved away, but creeped back into place when he realized what you were doing. he slowly grazed his finger tips against yours as he walked, and he reached his fingers out and your hand fit neatly into his. you continued to hold hands for the rest of your walk.
when you arrived back at your apartment, you both sat down on the couch, your bodies turned inwards to face each other.
“i feel like i’ve know you my whole life, but its only been a week,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes.
mike smiled lightly. “i’ve never clicked this fast with anyone.”
you both paused, and mike hesitated before he spoke again. “can i ask you a question?”
you nodded, and he went on.
“there’s always been so much speculation about your love life in the media, and dating rumors and whatnot. i don’t like believing anything the media says, but i want to hear it straight from you.”
you smiled to yourself. the media liked to pull things that weren’t actually there and make up stories for fun. you’ve never actually had a real date since you’ve been in the business, let alone a relationship.
“i haven’t found anyone worthy yet.”
mike nodded, scooting closer to you. you could tell he was aiming to put his arm around you, but hesitated to see your reaction. you leaned in, telling him without words that it was okay, and he rested his arm around your shoulder as you laid close to each other. you immediately felt comfortable under his arm.
“i admire you, Y/N. i always have. i like that you know what you want, and that you know yourself. that’s a really great quality to have.”
you blushed, but your happiness faltered. you leaned your head back on his arm. “yeah, i guess. too bad i haven’t felt that way recently.”
mike looked at you, frowning. “why? if you don’t mind me asking.”
you weren’t typically the one to open up quickly to strangers. but mike felt different. he wasn’t going to judge, or make you feel bad about yourself. he was comforting.
“i’ve hid myself away from the world because i’m scared. i’m so insanely scared of messing up and having the whole world turn on me. so, i did the only thing i could think to do. i locked myself away in hopes that it would help,” you giggled nervously. “it didn’t do shit.”
you were smiling at your own misfortune, but mike stayed somber. “i’m sorry, Y/N, that’s awful.”
you shrugged. “yeah, but i did it to myself.”
mike sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you froze under his touch. “the world needs your brilliance. don’t be afraid, there’s so many people ready to guide you and protect you from anyone trying to take you down. i’m here for you, i promise.”
you bit your lip, unable to say words. mike was so incredibly kind. all you could do was whisper a thank you.
mike put his arm back around you, and you leaned into the couch together. “if there’s anything i can do to help, let me know,” he said quietly.
you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “you already have.”
mike smiled, turning red. “you’re cute.”
you felt complete. you hadn’t known mike for that long, but he filled a part of your soul that had been gone for a while. he made you feel liked again when you couldn’t like yourself.
you sat up and looked at him. your faces were only a few inches apart. at the same time, you leaned in, and your lips grazed each other before interlocking. it felt euphoric.
you pulled away, remaining close, and you smiled at each other. “you’re the most talented person i’ve ever met,” you whispered to him.
mike lightly placed his hand under your chin. “that means a lot coming from you. i love everything you do.”
you leaned in again, feeling your old self coming back again. you felt renewed. mike made you feel like the star you are again.
you rested your forehead on his. “thank you.”
mike tilted his head slightly. “for what?”
“for making me feel worthy again.”
mike smiled lightly, then gave you a short but sweet kiss. “never forget that you’re beautiful and wanted.”
a small tear escaped your eye. mike was everything you needed. you almost felt in denial that someone like him could be making you feel this way because you were so used to men not valuing you. you were moving fast with mike, but it felt right. you were never one to believe in love at first sight, but this was pretty damn close.
you leaned into his side again, and his hand rested on the back of your head. you could get used to this.
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[image id: an ask from @harbingerofskulls that reads: "im gonna b real i only knew the jerking off i would love to hear you elaborate more if you want to go on the whole situation" /end id]
answering here so i can save as a draft without risking the ask disappearing bc tumblr's been doing that lately but
oh god </3 for everyone else- it's talking about this post. sooo i'm gonna go through each one bc i've been feeling insane for several weeks. i'll do my best to cite my sources lmao
i don't know (johnny johnny)
this is referring to this unreleased VERY early beatles track from 1960. the audio quality is absolute shit & as such unfortunately people love to put words to it that don't make much sense in either direction (i.e a lot of mclennon fans want to hear "you're in love with me" and a lot of people that hate mclennon will just make up the weirdest lyrics that make 0 sense so it's Not Gay). some of the lyrics that ARE clear make it obvious this song is about the two of them running away together- at one point i'm fairly certain paul says "how am i gonna tell my father that we're leaving town?" probably referring to them leaving to hamburg. which would be fine but some of the other lyrics areeeee..... very..... Hm. like multiple times paul refers to john as "my boy" and there's bits of them talking about not knowing what to tell their friends & wanting to just run off together alone. if i were the other members of the band having to record this i would have killed them with hammers <3 also the entire end is just paul going "oh johnny" like 1 million times. okay. sure. also since the lyrics ARE so garbled i mean i guess people could be right about it saying "how am i gonna tell my father you're in love with me" but i just don't hear it. still, a very gay song about running off together and getting away from everything and everyone, complete with moaning the other's name </3
2. paris
this one is a huge part of McLennon Fandom Lore lmao but for good reason. not citing sources on all this bc it's one of those that's just Fact & can be found in like any beatles biography or thebeatlesbible.com (my savior) but. for john's 21st birthday, he got 100 pounds from a rich relative. instead of taking his girlfriend or any of his other friends, he decided to use the money to take paul to spain. but they stopped in paris on the way and just decided to stay there. which i mean like. taking your best friend over your girlfriend to the city of love is a little weird but it's not THAT weird. it's everything else that makes people want to chew glass about it. including some of the other things on this list. like this audio of john just goofing around singing about paris and paul, with such hits as "my cheri, my pau pau my pau paul." which is :| okay best friend. and paul has this picture hung up in his house that he took of john sleeping in paris. okay. sure. why not. (although ig there's some doubt about if the photo is from paris? either way it's a picture paul took and has framed in his house which is incriminating enough my man). also NOT in the original post but may pang, a woman john had a brief affair with in the 70s, wrote a book called loving john. in it, there's this quote:
After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”
“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.”
okay! also in an interview once he said:
The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing.
(interview with david scheff for playboy in september 1980)
3. if i fell
this one i already made an insane post on that started my spiral into posting about the beatles publicly </3 but, essentially, the song "if i fell" by john is..... well it's most likely about paul. he said it wasn't about his wife but that it was auto-biographical and he never really had any public affairs that weren't flings, certainly not a lover. but most damning is he wrote the complete lyrics for the first time on a valentine's day card addressed "to paul with love" with some hearts and arrows pointing to where the lyrics were written. absolutely insane. made me insane.
4. oh! darling
rawest paul song of all time if i do say so myself lmao. but it's just.... Highly Suspicious, that's what it is. a Lot of beatles fans/historians will admit this song is most likely about john but they won't admit that it's fucking romantic if it is. like.
like that is so blatantly romantic idk what to say other than that. also, in the official recording on abbey road, there's Several points where paul says "darling" that sound more like he's saying "johnny" which is what he called him. people brush it off by saying it's his accent, but there's a very clear difference between when he's saying "darling" and when he's saying "johnny". i mean the Lore behind this is that it was written right when things were splitting up between them (& the rest of the band) so it makes sense and it's why most people are willing to accept it's about john. it's just insane to me that they'll accept it's about john without considering the implications of that.
5. the real life demo
this one made me want to light myself on fire i won't lie to you. but here it is! john had a song called "real love" and this is a very early demo of it. but instead of the lyrics that came to actually be in the song (which are thought to be about yoko but let's not get into the fact that it was on a tape labeled "for paul" but whatever), it includes john fucking crying as he sings saying:
"was i just dreaming or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way... la la la la farm..."
which can quite literally be about no one else but paul, as this demo was recorded when he'd just had two children with his wife linda and linda was pregnant with their third child. they'd moved to a farm in scotland. hearing this audio clip did genuinely make me want to lie down in the dirt for a week. also "i used to hold you in my arms" just... yeah. god. when people think it was unrequited idk what to say, really.
6. If Paul Were A Woman-
shoving these two together but. in april of 85, paul said in an interview about john and yoko's relationship:
"I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, 'Who’s this?' You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…"
okay bestie <3 and what would make your relationship different if you were a woman? interesting! and yoko had something similar to say. in this audio, she says:
"I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul."
just reminds me of being a kid and telling my best friends "if i were a boy i'd date you" lol. incredible. does anyone here know about bisexuality.
7. stuart!
not much to say here except that john had a best friend, stu sutcliffe, who died young & before that had been the bassist in the band. paul fucking hated him sooo much oh he SEETHED. a lot has been written on that relationship but it was.... very interesting to say the least. it could have just been about the band, or just jealousy over john's friendship, but take that with a lot of john biographers suspecting john had feelings/even a sexual relationship with stuart and it paints a very Interesting picture to say the least
8. john's bisexuality
here's a compilation of quotes about it, but john was more than likely bisexual. which has nothing to do w paul, really, but more to do against people that like to claim they were both Heterosexual Men. although an interesting quote in this compilation is him saying he's "had paul" lmfao
9. paul's post-beatles work
there's just.... there is so so so much here i don't even know where to begin. @ringompreg has a good compilation of paul songs here. a lot of them do take a bit of Lore but like..... it comes down to the fact that both him and john have/had admitted many times to using their lyrics during The Breakup Years to talk to/reference each other and sooooo many of these lyrics are insanely blatant. the two i mentioned were tug of war and let me roll it, both of which are acknowledged to be about john by most people WITH NO ONE BOTHERING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT which..... tug of war has this:
we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled? dancing to a beat played on a different drum? this is what gaylors think gaylor conspiracy is but paul mccartney is really out here saying this shit.
and let me roll it is so fucking blatantly romantic but every reviewer is like haha! what a cool song that's "making fun" of john and clearly in his style! like are straight people stupid genuinely. anyway:
bonus to that but about JOHN'S solo work :)))))) he wrote a song called "watching the wheels" and when you consider he very much responded to MANY of paul's solo stuff it's :)
which as a response to let me roll it would just be... so devestating but it may be a stretch idk if i'm onto anything there it's just worth Mentioning
and there's a lot of others, a lot of them in that post up there. like far too many where paul mentions falling in love with a friend like Alright.
10. paul's first lsd trip with john/"i know" "i know"
this one is less blatantly romantic but it is just insane. here's an article. and a quote from george martin about it. the first time paul tripped on acid w john was bc john accidentally took some and he took him home & then took acid w him bc he didn't want john to be alone on the trip :( but, notably:
"And we looked into each other’s eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that’s what we did, round about that time, that’s what we did a lot," the singer recalled, "And it was amazing. You’re looking into each other’s eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn’t, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away."
he also apparently saw john as the, and i quote, "emperor of eternity" during this trip??????? okay
SOMEWHERE i can't find it rn and i'm getting lazy but somewhere they (i think paul?) talk about the fact that they used to just stare into each other's eyes and then say "i know" "i know" which. considering john's song "i know (i know)" makes me crazy
11. in my life/i will
these are really just some devastating songs with lyrics that make you really raise your eyebrows. for in my life, written by john, it's just an incredibly romantic & sweet song that is again, not about his wife. given that the lennon estate is still out here posting pictures of paul to those lyrics i have to say it's a liiiiittle suspicious. and i will is...... it's one that paul insists is not about his girlfriend at the time, jane asher. and when you look at the lyrics vs how him and john met.... like. the song goes:
and the story of how they met was that paul saw john repeatedly before they ever met, when he didn't know who john was other than that he thought he looked cool & admired his sideburns (lmfao). and when they did finally meet, it was when john was singing at a garden fete (party) and paul was in the crowd just Mesmerized. so. well. you can see.... you can see how fitting that is. makes me crazy makes me want to chew glass actually
12. "we were each other's intimates" and other insane quotes
"we were each other's intimates" is a paul quote about john which is just insane but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. here's a ton of quote compilations.
13. "literally everything else"/honorable mentions
some honorable mentions go out to: john going on stage w elton john & playing i saw her standing there and introducing it as "a song by an estranged fiance of mine" okay! the "just like starting over" demos. okay! which isn't even to MENTION the fact that paul locked himself away in the studio listening to "just like starting over" on repeat for DAYS after john died like???? john saying repeatedly that he considered paul & yoko to be his two major partners in life including in an interview the literal day he died. a whole ass rpf movie where they kiss & talk like they're ex-lovers and dance in central park (two of us) made by the same dude that made the let it be movie like. he knew them personally? he worked with them closely? and the only thing paul had to say about it was just essentially that it was what he wished would've happened like???????? i can't find a super reliable source for this so take it w a grain of salt, but apparently paul referred to mclennon fanfiction as "beautiful stories" and doesn't mind them being written. paul also had a cat that had kittens & he named two of the kittens pyramus and thisbe after fictional lovers he and john played and he gave pyramus (the character paul played) to john :|
and literally so much else like all of this and it's not even all of it. it's not even close to all of it. i didn't even get to talk about the way in "get back" the documentary, paul started talking about john leaving the band for yoko and how john would choose her over them and then he got teary eyed, started choke laughing, and then started singing "build me up buttercup" before looking at the cameras and stopping. what the FUCK was that about! IT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE SONG "TWO OF US" THAT'S SO OBVIOUSLY ABOUT JOHN THAT IT HURTS. it's. it's not even scratching the surface. they were just genuinely insane about each other.
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Chapter 9: ...And Now I'm Covered In You
Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy?
Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Tags Updated Per Chapter
Author's Note: lots of dialogue because i can’t make them stfu :) also smut in the first half, in case you don’t want to read it
Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay @nn-hh192
Chapter List
To say you were surprised when you woke up with your face buried in the chest of Arthur Morgan would be an understatement.
When you woke, the realization made you gasp, almost immediately regretting it when Arthur began to stir. Luckily your outburst had been quiet enough that he fell right back asleep, his arms pulling you closer.
The events of the night, and morning, came back to you then. Flashes passed through your mind; the way his hands had felt, the way his lips had covered your body, the way he stretched you so deliciously. It was all a blur, ending sometime in the early morning. You knew because you heard the birds singing as you fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
The aches in your body made sense, then, and why you felt like you hadn’t slept a minute. Every muscle felt like it had been pushed to the maximum, and if you were able to move you were certain it would hurt. But you were stuck, unable to get out of the embrace Arthur held you in. Even his legs had you in a lock, tangled with yours underneath the sheets. You were stuck.
You were just able to look up at him with weary eyes. Sunlight illuminated him, and you could see details about him that you hadn’t been able to before. His eyelashes were quite long, resting on his cheeks as he slept. You noticed some beauty marks that dotted his face, even lighter than the few that you knew of, and you swore you even saw some freckles.
There were also some light scars that had faded over time. One stretched across his nose bridge, no doubt from the injury that made it crooked in the first place. Another nicked his eyebrow, barely messing with the hair there, and you’d have never seen it if you weren’t this close. In his beard, you were just able to see the scar tissue there. You’d always assumed that the small patch there just never grew hair, but you now knew that it was a scar.
You then examined the features that you knew so well, the ones you’d come to love dearly. His soft hair, mused and ruffled from hours of your hands in it. The arch of his brow, the creases of his eyes, the slope of his crooked nose. His lips, so plush and soft, the ones that had been all over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you stretched, barely able to brush his lips with your own.
“I was wonderin’ when you’d do that.”
Arthur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, your aforementioned weariness dissipating as adrenaline kicked in. “Arthur,” you gasped out, unable to hide a small smile. “How long have you been awake for?”
“Long enough to know you’ve been starin’ at me.” His voice was gravely with sleep, even more rougher than normal. It made you shiver.
“How could I not?” You sighed, staring at him with obvious adoration.
A dusting of pink colored his cheeks, smiling broadly at you. “How you can stand to even look at this mug is beyond me. And to enjoy lookin’ at it?” He shook his head, and you felt one of his arms unwrap from around you. You melted when he rested his now free hand on your cheek, fingers weaving into your hair. “I don’t deserve you.”
Before you could argue that he did indeed deserve you, he was pulling you in, kissing you properly. It was short, but it conveyed something that made your heart thud rapidly. His hand remained on your cheek even when he pulled away, thumb caressing the skin slowly. Now that you weren’t so startled, you felt tired once again, and the soft way he was holding you certainly wasn’t helping, and neither was the heat from his body.
You must’ve yawned, because Arthur was chuckling gently with a fond look on his face. “Few more minutes?” He asked, and you nodded. He pressed a final kiss to the top of your head, making you relax even more, before returning his arm to where it had been a few moments prior. “A few more minutes, then.”
It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a content slumber.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
The two of you definitely slept in longer than a few minutes.
You weren’t sure how long exactly, but you knew a significant chunk of time had passed.
It was hunger that woke you now. Your stomach grumbled and twisted, and you tried to ignore it, shuffling deeper into the mattress.
But it wasn’t the hunger pangs that made you jolt upright. It was the lack of Arthur’s body next to yours, no longer holding you.
Setting a hand to where he had been, you were weirdly relieved when you found it to still be warm, and you heard the sound of running water from the ensuite bathroom.
Now sitting upright, you were now regretting getting up so quickly, your muscles complaining. Rubbing at your neck, you were surprised to find that it was more tender than anticipated, but only in certain spots. In fact, as you rubbed at the weary muscles, you found more spots like that: along your breasts, in between your thighs, across your stomach. There weren’t a lot, but it was enough to be a tad bit alarming.
Pulling off the sheet that covered it, you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as you saw the various marks peppering your body. There weren’t even more than ten, not including the ones you now presumed to be on your neck. The sight made you reel, enjoying it far more than you thought you would.
After a bit of pain, you managed to get out of bed, but standing was a whole different story. Your knees practically gave out when you took the first step, and you had to hold onto the bed to support. You were grateful that Arthur was currently in the bathroom, unable to see what he’d done to you.
It took longer than it should’ve, but you eventually made your way to the vanity and mirror tucked into the corner of the room. You never used this one, opting for the one in the bathroom or closet, but you highly doubt you’d be able to make it to the closet. And the other one was preoccupied, and you highly doubt that Arthur would mind if you barged in, but you still wanted to give him privacy.
You gasped again when you saw your reflection, but you’d be a liar if you said the sight wasn’t erotic. Your neck had seen the worst of it, darkened hickeys lining both sides, and you ran a tentative finger over them, which made you fight back a small hiss of pain.
You heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, and when you turned your head you were met with the glorious sight that was a completely bare Arthur. He hadn’t caught your eye yet, running his hands through his hair, smoothing it out as best he could. When he realized the bed was empty, though, he looked around, and then his eyes finally fell to where you were standing.
A series of emotions passed over his face as he regarded you; surprise, appreciation, then thinly veiled desire. You couldn’t look away as he began to saunter over, a playful smirk on his face, and you focused hard on keeping your gaze at an appropriate level. Arthur seemed to have no qualms with checking you out, his eyes flicking over every part of you, making you feel warm.
“Good morning, Arthur.” Your voice didn’t like that you tried to talk louder than a whisper, and it sounded scratchy and airy.
“Good afternoon, darlin’.” When he finally reached you, he stood behind you, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into him. His head rested on your shoulder, the stubble of his beard pressing into your skin. After making sure any hair was out of the way, you felt as he pressed a gentle kiss against your neck, and you felt yourself go completely lax in his arms.
He met your eyes in the mirror as he held you, rocking your body slightly. “Gorgeous,” you heard him murmur, and you tore your gaze away, your cheeks burning. “None of that, now,” he laughed lightly, drawing your attention back to him. “There you are.”
He was staring at you hungrily, shaking off any remnants of sleep in your body. He was insatiable, but you were loving it. You’d never felt this desired, this craved, and it made you feel good.
Keeping one arm slung around your waist to keep you pressed close to him, you felt as he began to brush his fingers over the marks around your neck, much lighter than you had. Still, it elicited a small noise of complaint from you. “M’Sorry,” you heard him murmur, and you shook your head in response.
“Does it seem like I’m complainin’?” You chuckled lightly, but there was still a hint of guilt on his features. “Just, no more. I don’t know how I’m coverin’ these, let alone more.”
“So you are complainin’.”
You dramatically rolled your eyes, much to the amusement of Arthur. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
He just hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror. It was quite a nice sight, you wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, the evidence of the night's escapades littering your body. “Hell of a sight to walk out and see,” he murmured, taking on a raspy tone that you’d come to know quite well over the past day.
“Not a bad sight yourself.” Your already unsteady legs grew weaker when you felt him begin to drag his fingers down. “Arthur…”
“Want me to stop?”
“You better not.”
A breathy laugh left Arthur. “Understood, darlin’.” As you asked, he continued, making you shiver and press into him. His chest was practically flush with your back, and you could feel it begin to rise more rapidly with barely contained excitement. When he grazed your breasts, the responding noise you made made him grin, and you could feel him half-hard against your back.
You tried to reach behind and touch him, but he lightly redirected you. “Later. Lemme make you feel good.” You expected to feel him grope at your breasts, so you jumped a bit when you felt his touch continue below them, traveling down and down. It was like he had one goal on his mind.
He had to lean over slightly in order to reach comfortably between your legs. Your eyes fluttered close when you felt him there, but a gentle nudge had you opening them back up. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed. “I want you to see yourself fall apart.” His words, along with the just-woken-up gruff tone in his voice, made you shiver.
You could do nothing but nod, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt him brush between your folds, fingers barely grazing your clit. But he didn’t tease you, his touch returning to that spot and focusing in on it. Your light gasps turned to moans as he worked you, muttering praises in your ear, his head still resting on your shoulder.
Blue eyes were locked onto you in the mirror, mesmerized by the way your features contorted in pleasure, your mouth agape as noises left you. One of your hands rested on the one between your thighs, the other reaching up and around, tangling your fingers into his hair. He was practically holding you up at this point, your legs long since turned boneless.
“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmured, catching your gaze. The slow but persistent movement of his fingers had slowly started to build up the tension in you.
“Arthur…” Your eyes threatened to close.
“You gettin’ close, darlin’?”
You mumbled something in response, but it was enough for him. “Just let go,” his teeth nip at your ear. “Wach how beautiful you are when you cum.”
And you did. You watched the way a breathless sigh caught in your throat, your lips a perfect ‘o’ shape. You watched how your cheeks flushed, your eyes rolled back, the fingers in his hair turning deadly as a gentle orgasm washed over you. It left like a caress of a gentle wave over your body, not hitting you like it did last night, but that didn’t make it any less satisfactory.
He helped you ride through your high, and you pushed away his hand when it became too much. Your eyes were still locked onto both of your reflections, his glistening fingers retracting themselves. Blindly, you reached behind you, hearing him let out a choked noise when your hand wrapped around him, now fully erect against your back.
But you found the angle too awkward, and so twisting in his arms you finally faced him. Pressing kisses against his collarbones, you began to stroke him slowly, quickly picking up speed when you felt him press himself into your hand. His breathing was already labored, and you realized how worked up he had gotten from pleasuring you, being already this close.
“Arthur,” you sighed against his neck, running your free hand up his chest. Your nails scrapped lightly, running through the hair on his chest. He groaned out your name in response, head resting against yours, his breathing hot and heavy.
It only took a few more strokes before, with a shuddering breath, he came. His spend coated your stomach
“Let’s get washed up before we spend the whole day in here,” you chucked lightly, still catching your breath.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
“I don’t think I’ve got the stamina-”
“Who said anythin’ about sex, darlin’? I could be content just holidn’ you in my arms all day.”
For a moment, you seriously considered his argument, the bed looking quite inviting from where it sat behind Arthur. But before you could answer, your hungry stomach decided to answer for you, interrupting the silence. Embarrassed, you groaned, head resting on Arthur’s chest, and you felt it rumble as he laughed. “Guess that answers that, then.”
Tugging you to the bathroom, Arthur helped wash your skin, before letting you go to the closet to get dressed. But before you did, you snuck him a kiss, laughing when he chased after your lips. Donning a high-neck blouse, which rubbed uncomfortably against your neck, as well as a skirt, you felt the ache in your muscles as you dressed, making you wince and grin.
Finished, you headed downstairs as Arthur got washed up… again. There was a newfound energy in your step as you descended the stairs, your nerves still buzzing pleasantly. You chuckled when you saw Arthur’s hat discarded on the ground, and so after heading over and picking it up, you put it on one of the couches, easy for him to grab.
Your grumbling stomach led you to the kitchen, where you got to work on making breakfast, which consisted of oatmeal and fruits. It was when you were making his bowl when you saw him enter, the bottom half of him covered in clothes. His button-up was on, sure, but was left completely open, giving you a perfect view as he approached. You tried not to look too disappointed when he buttoned it up halfway.
“What’s all this?” He asked, his hands returning to where they had been when he first held you in front of the mirror.
“Breakfast, although I suppose it’s a bit late for that,” you laughed. “And you better watch those hands, Arthur.” His hands had begun to travel southward with a mischievous look.
Caught, he stopped his exploration, but he continued to hold you. His smile was infectious as you felt it press against your skin, and you bit back a laugh at the way his beard tickled you. No matter how many times you felt it, you’d never get used to it. “Thank you, darlin’.”
“It’s nothin’. I was hungry, and I figured it be rude to make you watch me eat.” He chuckled. “Bowl on the right’s yours.”
He hummed in thanks but was apprehensive about removing his hands, opting to hold you for a few moments longer. He eventually did, though, then made his way to the table with you following behind. Like the person he was, he pulled the chair out for you, leaning down and sneaking a kiss in while pushing the chair in. It made you chuckle, and your heart felt warm as you watched him sit next to you.
As the two of you began to eat in comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but marvel at how right it all felt. Waking up in his arms, him joining you in the kitchen, even eating breakfast together. It all felt like it was meant to happen, meant to be. And when you glanced up from your bowl and saw Arthur’s eyes on you, you knew he felt the same.
But you’d never pictured Arthur as a domestic man. He was an outlaw, a person not tied down by anything, be it rules or people. What that meant for your future together, you weren’t quite sure, but for now, you were content to just ignore it. It had been a great day so far; you didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about the future.
Sliding your arm toward him, you took one of his hands, and he squeezed gently in response. Even though he’d had his hands over your entire body last night, something that would normally make you want to crawl out of your skin if it was any other person, this touch felt somehow more intimate, more personal.
You hadn’t even realized you’d been laughing lightly until he raised a brow at you, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’.” And it was true, there wasn’t actually anything funny with the situation. Well, it certainly was a bit funny, as you were currently in love with the man who had tried to break into your house all those weeks ago. You were just so damn happy that you couldn’t keep it contained any longer. “Nothin’ at all.”
“You’re a strange woman,” he mumbled in jest, the same words he had uttered to you in Rhodes when you first met properly.
“And I’ll still take that as a compliment, Arthur.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Did you ever think this would happen?” You asked after a moment of silence. “Me, you, this?” You shook his hand lightly. “What’d you think was gonna happen when we first met?”
“Certainly not this. When I first met ya, in Rhodes,” he added when you began laughing again, “I thought you were gonna be another high-society person that I’d crossed, and I fully expected ya to send the law after me for what I did. But when that didn’t happen, well, I just had to talk to ya. You were, are, less… uptight than I thought you’d be. I’d never thought you’d been raised wealthy by the way you acted. And I mean that in the best way possible.”
“I guess we both surprised each other, then. Your appearance deceives you.”
“It’s supposed to,” Arthur sighed. “My life’d be much harder if it didn’t.”
“If only they knew how much of a softie you were,” you teased.
“Soft?” He repeated, almost offended.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, you know.”
“I… I suppose not,” he relented. “Just don’t let the others back at camp know,” he added with a chuckle, but there was the slightest hint of alarm in his eyes. “They’d never let me hear the end of it.”
“Your secret is safe with me. And your reputation.”
“Much appreciated, darlin’.”
“How is camp, by the way?” You were genuinely curious. “How is everyone?”
“I’m not gonna lie, things have been… tense lately. John’s son, Jack, was taken, but we got him back. Angelo Bronte, over in Saint Denis, had him.” You knew that name. Everyone in the area knew who Angelo Bronte was. You also knew that only the foolish tried to work with him. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Hans had dealings with him.
“Bronte? You got him to listen to you?”
“Had to do a job for him, but yes. You know him?”
“Not personally, but I’ve been to his house plenty of times. If you got money or somethin’ to offer him, then you’ve been to his parties.”
“Dutch somehow managed to weasel us onto the guestlist for one happenin’ in a couple of days. Thinks we could get some good leads there.”
“Well, Dutch is right ‘bout that. Secrets are spilled there like it’s nothin’, even more so after drinks are had. Are you goin’?”
“Don’t have much choice in the matter.”
“Me neither. But, depending on when he gets back, I might just see you there.”
That seemed to cheer Arthur up over the prospect of having to rub elbows with high-society. “You’re goin’ to?”
You shrugged. “Like I said, it all depends. He usually likes to go, and it’s comin’ up around the time he usually comes back. But no promises.”
“Well, now I’m excited, maybe seein’ you in a party dress.” And you were excited at possibly seeing Arthur in a tux.
“Gonna have to be a high-neck dress,” you grumbled, making Arthur laugh. “But other than that, things are… good? As good as they can be?”
“We had to relocate to an abandoned plantation house, Shady Belle. It’s a good spot, ‘cept for the gators. But we shouldn’t be bothered by law for a while.”
“I dunno if Javier told you, but I offered you all my house if you ever need a place to stay. Not just you, but everyone.”
“Oh, he told us alright. Dutch debated sendin’ Jack and Abigail, his mom, over to ya to keep him from gettin’ taken again. But John wanted ‘em to stay in camp.”
“Is John his father?”
“As much as he tries to fight it, yes.” It seemed like a sore spot, so you didn’t press it.
“Well, if they ever change their minds, my door is usually open. And even if he’s home, I’m sure I could figure somethin’ out.”
“I’d hate to-”
“You don’t gotta decide anythin’ now. Just know the offers on the table.” Arthur looked away, biting back words. His brow was furrowed, and you could see the strain in his jaw. “Arthur?”
“You’re too kind.”
“It’s really not a bother-”
“No, you’re too kind.” His worried eyes locked onto yours. “This world is vicious, the life I live is vicious. It ruins people like you, good people. I’m… I’m afraid of you gettin’ caught up in all this. All the runnin’, the distrust, the bloodshed. I don’t wanna see it change you. I don’t wanna change you.”
“I know this world is viscous. I may not see it first-hand like you do, but I know. But isn’t that why I shouldn’t try to be kind, as naive as I might sound to say? And sure, it might come back to bite me, but isn’t it rewarding just to try?” You took a breath. “This world has already tried its hardest to change me, Arthur. It has tried to make me cold, to make me cruel, to make me uncaring. But I simply won’t let it, which I know is easier said than done. But every time I think it might just be easier to turn a cold shoulder, to ignore the problems of others, I remind myself that if I were in their shoes, I’d want someone to extend a hand out to me.”
Arthur was silent for a good while, mulling over your words. “I try to help when I can,” he began. “I really do try. But it seems like for every good deed I do, ten bad ones take its place. Every good thing I do pales in comparison to all the robbin’, the stealin’, the killin’. And it tears me up inside, the… the guilt.”
“Then why do you continue to do it?” You asked, no judgment in your voice.
“‘Cause it’s the only thing I know how to do. It’s the only way I know to provide a life for those I care ‘bout. Acts of kindness don’t pay nearly as well as a robbery.”
“As much as I hate to agree, you’re not wrong. You’ve gotta do what you gotta to survive, and I don’t think anyone can fault you for that. And you shouldn’t feel too guilty; you steal from people who deserve it, right?”
“We’re gonna be stealin’ from you, darlin’. Are you sayin’ you deserve it?”
“Maybe not me, but Hans sure as hell does.”
“Damn right,” Arthur muttered, almost too low for you to catch. But there was still an inkling of guilt on his face.
“Besides, we’ve got so much money, so much that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like I said before, as long as he doesn’t stop helpin’ my family, you can get as much as you can from him.”
“Have you written to them? Your family?” Arthur asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from him. You’d let him, for now.
“I sent them a letter yesterday. But I realize now that I’ve got no way of receivin’ their letters.”
“You send it in your name?” You nodded. “I’ll try to stop by, grab ‘em for ya.”
“Aren’t you wanted in Rhodes?”
Arthur shrugged. “It’ll die down over the next week or so, which should be enough time.”
“You’re gonna do it no matter what I say, ain’t you.” The responding grin told you all that you needed to know. “Thank you, Arthur.”
He waved off your thanks, and the two of you continued your breakfast before it turned colder. You tried to stand and grab both of your bowls when you finished, but Arthur was having none of it. Ushering you back down, he took the bowls into the kitchen himself, even go so far as to wash them for you. Unsure of what to do with yourself now, you made your way to the living room, sitting on one of the couches as you waited for him to return.
You spotted his hat out of the corner of your eye, and before you could stop yourself you picked it up, examining it in your hands. It hadn’t changed much since the first time you saw it or the time after that. Maybe there was a new scratch or nick here and there, but you didn’t see them. All you saw was a well-loved hat with more stories than you could imagine.
You glanced up when you saw Arthur approaching, and you flashed him a grateful look. There was a regretful look on his face, and you knew exactly what was about to happen next. “You have to go, don’t you.”
“I’m sorry-”
“None of that, Arthur,” you shook your head, smiling lightly. “As much as I’d love for you to spend the rest of the day here, you’ve got responsibilities, and you’ve got people who need you. I get it.” You stood now, making your way over to him, his hat still in your hands. “Just come back, alright?”
“I’ll come back, darlin’.”
“You better mean it this time.”
“I promise.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I will get Javier or someone to drag you back.”
Two hands gently grasped the sides of your face, drawing all your attention to him. “I swear,” he rested his head against yours, sighing deeply.
You’re not sure who moved first, your lips colliding in a gentle kiss that sealed the promise he just uttered. You hoped that would be enough to push the thoughts from his brain that fed him the misconceptions that drove him away.
“I’ll see you soon, either here or at the party,” you said when you broke apart.
“I’ll see you soon,” he repeated, his hands dropping from your face. Before he could take a step back, you planted his hat on his head, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. With a fond look, he backed up to the entranceway, slipping on his boots with visible apprehension, not wanting this visit to end either.
You followed him out the door, but before he descended the stairs he hesitated, looking back at you. Before you could even register he was in front of you, kissing you deeply. You let out a surprised noise, before melting into his embrace, your hands grasping his still partially unbuttoned shirt.
But then he was leaving again, with an almost hurried gait, as if he feared if he lingered he’d never leave. You stood on the porch, slightly stunned as Arthur whistled for Bear, who came trotting out of the woods looking quite irritated at his owner. That irritation melted when he heard you call out his name, his ear flickering happily. Arthur had to stop him from coming over to you, an amused smile on his face when he turned to you. “I swear, he likes ya more than me.”
You chuckled as Arthur got atop Bear, and it took no encouragement to bring Bear closer to you. It took a little bit of stretching, but you managed to stroke his snout lightly, earning a nicker in response. After petting him for a few moments, you glanced up at his rider, a soft smile on his face.
Words hung on the tip of your tongue, the ones you’d let slip so freely last night. Would it be too soon for you to say it again? Would it make him uncomfortable? Would it hurt you, saying them, knowing he couldn’t say it back?
Arthur watched you, almost expectantly, and you couldn’t help yourself from uttering the words. You just needed him to hear it again.
You swore you saw something like relief on his face, only there for a fraction of a second. With slightly rose-tinged cheeks, he ducked his head, his hat covering his face from you.
“Now, get outta here Arthur,” you teased, breaking the tension. It seemed to do the trick, and you watched as Arthur began to back up. “Goodbye, for now.”
“Goodbye, for now,” he repeated with the same infliction. With one final glance, he was gone, the trees almost curling around him as he went up the trail leading to the main road. With a thumping heart, you made your way back inside, ungracefully flopping down on the couch, a sigh of disbelief leaving you.
That sigh turned into light chuckling, which turned into giddy laughter, the sore muscles in your body complaining as you laughed. Like before, you were just so happy that it threatened to overwhelm you, and you needed some way to let it out. It only took a few seconds until it died down, and you let yourself just relax, a new thought making a bittersweet smile appear.
You’d missed what being truly happy felt like.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
It had taken some time, but you eventually peeled yourself off the couch. You had almost gone straight upstairs, but the newspaper on the kitchen table made you stop. You realized that Hans probably had no idea about Arthur’s involvement in Rhodes, and if the job with him was to go smoothly, then he needed to remain unaware.
Taking the paper upstairs, it rolled it up and tucked it into the lockbox, the thing barely fitting in there. Eventually, though, you were able to get it tucked back under the bed.
The room felt a lot more dead now that Arthur wasn’t around. The sheets were cold and lonesome, and as you laid down on the bed you could still smell him, all gunpowder and tobacco and leather. As sad as it made you, you also realized now that you probably needed to clean said bedsheets before Hans got home.
Before letting yourself get lulled into a doze by the familiar smell, you got up, opening the two windows in the room to try and air it out. It took a bit of time, but you eventually gathered up all the sheets, pillowcases, and blankets on the bed, as well as the washcloths from the
Your body hated the exertion, and it took an hour or two, but you eventually had everything on the clothesline. It did go by quickly, though, with your memories still flooded with the man that had occupied those sheets hours ago, a light smile on your face as you worked.
Going into it, you knew that it was going to take over a day for everything to dry completely, but you were fine with that. That night, you grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, and you slept on the couch. It was uncomfortable and just irritated your sore muscles more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay in the bed, the other side barren.
It was going to be hard to try and sleep without Arthur.
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan smut
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THIS ONE’S FOR YOU — JAMIE TARTT
masterlist
request: Hello! Can I request a Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader is also a footballer (maybe she plays for Chelsea?) and Jamie comes to see the match. After she wins, they reveal their relationship and everyone is SHOCKED. Thanks a lot!! xx
warnings: bit of swearing, otherwise none just a bit of fluffiness. you’re a chelsea player !
“I’ll see you later baby,” you sing-songed, putting on your best brave face to pretend you weren’t stressed to the core about the game ahead of you, “I’ll look for you, yeah?”
Jamie curled his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your lips, “You’re gonna smash ‘em, babe.”
You pulled away a little to look at the confident grin on his face, biting your lip as he dipped his head to kiss your cheek, “You’re literally their Jamie Tartt, love. How could you not win?”
You scoffed, pressing your palm to his chest at his usual cocky remark about himself.
“Thank you, superstar,” you teased, stepping back to adjust your kit as his eyes scanned your body, “Nobody else is even in here yet, we’ve got time…”
He licked his lips, once again pulling you flush to his chest — but much to his dismay you pushed him away, “Later, J, later. I’ll meet you out back so we can sneak out? Then you’ve got me all to yourself.”
Jamie didn’t say anything for a moment, glancing around the room for a split second before looking back at you with a sigh.
“I don’t think we need to be so, like, secretive anymore Y/N,” he shrugged, “I mean, two of the best footballers in England are dating… It just makes sense, if you’re asking me.”
Now it was your turn to ponder that thought.
It wasn’t that you were ashamed, or embarrassed, but you were only just getting used to the attention that came with being Chelsea women’s star striker.
It was overwhelming, and with that pressure already on your shoulders, you weren’t sure how ready you were for the paparazzi storm to swirl around your relationship.
You’d been together for months now, somehow managing to do so in secret — mostly behind Jamie’s effortless pretence that he was still fucking around — and so maybe he was right, and sharing your relationship with your friends at least seemed less crazy now.
“OK. Yeah — maybe you’re right,” you nodded, hearing noise coming down the hallway, “We’ll talk about it after, alright? ‘Might explode from the stress right now, and them lot freaking out over us won’t help. I’ll see you later, babe. Love you.”
“Like I said, you’re gonna smash ‘em. Good luck babe,” he grinned, sincerity in his features as he admired you turning to open the door for him, “Love ya too.”
—
And yes, just like he said, you did smash them.
Not only that — but you scored your first hattrick of your professional career so far, in a fucking cup semi-final against Liverpool!
As you scored your third goal and your teammates swarmed around you to celebrate the 3-0 score, your eyes flickered through the crowd to find your boyfriend again.
As your eyes met his, you broke free from your teammates and mimicked his usual goal celebration, watching the crowd go wild and your whole squad too as they saw just who you were looking at.
The adrenaline coursing through you was giving you unmatched levels of confidence, and suddenly your worries about the reaction to your relationship dissipated entirely.
“Do my eyes deceive me or did Y/L/N just do Jamie Tartt’s classic celebration, whilst looking at the one and only Jamie Tartt himself in the crowd?”
So everyone noticed, commentators included.
Your best friend on the team returned to your side, then. She gripped your shoulder, pulling you close and leaning into your ear, “You’re so in trouble for leaving me to find out you’re fucking Jamie Tartt like this. You have so much to tell me.”
You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, later!”
The game finished 3-0, Liverpool’s defence proving stronger in the final 20 minutes of the match despite the fact that you’d dominated for the majority of the game.
As the final whistle was blown, you looked over at Jamie again, who was sat between Ted and Sam who’d accompanied him to the game.
He’d asked them to join him because he knew they’d say yes, and he made the excuse that he knew someone who scored him free tickets — which wasn’t actually a lie, obviously.
Despite the conversation going on, Jamie was zoned out just watching you.
It was crazy how much Jamie had mellowed since meeting you.
Of course, to some degree he was still the cocky fucker you’d fallen for when you met at a mutual friend’s party all those months ago. But since meeting you, he seemed to finally grasp that not everything revolved around him.
In fact, if anything, these days he seemed to find everything in his life revolved around you.
You drew in a sharp breath — everyone had seen your celebration, seen you fluttering your lashes at your boyfriend every time you looked into the crowd, seen the proud smile adorning his face as he watched you.
And so once you made your rounds with some of your squad to say hi to some fans, you clambered up the steps to where they were sat.
“Hi, Ted and Sam, right?” you grinned at them both as they nodded eagerly.
“‘S a pleasure to meet ya,” Ted nodded as he stood to shake your hand, “You were absolutely fantastic out there, Y/N. Better than our Jamie over here, maybe,” he saw Jamie’s glare and laughed, “I kid, I kid! You’re both stars, hey!”
Oh, you were so gonna rub that in Jamie’s face later.
“You really were great,” Sam chuckled, “It’s great to meet you, Y/N. Big fan.”
You were flattered, blushing at the compliments coming your way, and Jamie took this opportunity to interject. He stepped in front of Ted, leaning forward.
“Told ya you’d smash it. Good celebration eh,” he smirked, and as you felt your skin prickle with goosebumps at his intense gaze, he gritted his teeth and leaned in to your ear, “Can I kiss you?”
You felt your body shiver under his touch and at his breath fanning in your ear as you thought about his request.
His words were so gentle, but you could hear how desperate he was for you to say yes and it made your heart flutter.
With adrenaline from the win coursing through your veins, accompanied by the fact that you could hardly say you wanted to hide things after your big display on the pitch, you uttered a breathless, “Please.”
He didn’t waste any time, scooping you close to him and capturing your lips with his victoriously.
When you pulled away from the kiss, you were acutely aware of the fact that all eyes in the stadium were still fixated on you.
“Well I’ll be damned!” Ted grinned, hands leaving his pockets to rest on his own cheeks, “Talk about a power couple! How long have y’all been keeping this from us?”
A few of your teammates swarmed behind you too, all hooting and hollering at what they’d just witnessed.
You glanced across at Sam and noticed he was seemingly on a group FaceTime call with a load of the other Richmond players — all of whom were equally as shocked.
“We’ve been together about seven months?” you looked across at your boyfriend, whose arm was rested around the base of your back protectively, “I was funny about us telling people but then… I got so excited seeing you in the crowd and couldn’t help myself.”
“You were fuckin’ amazing, babe,” Jamie grinned as you all began to leave the seats and they followed you into the tunnel, “Looked fuckin’ hot out there too. As always.”
You blushed again, rolling your eyes, never having gotten used to his compliments.
“Thank you babe. We’re gonna have a looot to deal with when I get out of here, aren’t we?” you sighed, glancing around at the stares and whispers surrounding you.
“Definitely,” Sam interrupted your moment, turning his phone in your direction, “You and the rest of your team are welcome to come to Ola’s tonight,” he offered, “The boys are all desperate to meet you, and you can celebrate there if you’re free.”
“How the fuck did he pull Y/N Y/L/N?”
“Seven months and you never told us?”
“Hey! You knew how much I fancied her!”
The shouts from down the phone all made you giggle, but you suddenly felt shy at the attention.
Jamie had told you about Ola’s before, and you were delighted to finally be able to visit now without the secretive circumstances causing any problems.
“It’s well worth it, now I get to make everyone aware you’re me girl,” he smirked smugly, throwing an arm over your shoulder and kissing your forehead, “They all fancy the fuck outta you. But you’re all mine.”
“Down boy,” you laughed, nudging his side and leaning up to kiss him, “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah? I’ll ask the girls about tonight. I’d love to finally come to Ola’s,” you added, smiling over at Sam and Ted too in appreciation for the invitation.
“See you in a bit gorgeous.”
As he turned to walk away to wait for you, you heard him grumble, “I know she’s like, the hottest woman alive and a bit out of my league. But is it that hard to believe she’s me girlfriend? I’m Jamie fuckin’ Tartt!”
You stifled a laugh at his comment, before swallowing thickly as you approached the changing room doors.
Time for an onslaught of questions from your teammates — all thoughts of your victory somehow gone as the news of your secret relationship overtook all conversation.
——————
i hope this was okay !!! sorry i feel like it’s a bit messy but i hope you liked it. would anyone want a part two of you acc meeting the richmond squad?
feel free to keep requesting as requests are open and i’m still v excited to write haha!
in the meantime, here’s my masterlist!
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#ted lasso#ted lasso imagines#ted lasso imagine
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skz when they have a little too much to drink
⚘ genre. fluff
⚘ members. ot8
⚘ warnings. mentions of alcohol and intoxication, in no way am I promoting the use of liquor!! pls don’t think I’m encouraging bad behavior, this is entirely fiction lol I also didn’t proofread srry
chan drinks enough to get tipsy, but he’s a talkative tipsy
“I don’t know,” he grumbles to himself in distress, deep in thought as he allows himself to sink into your arms. You have been listening to him rant on and on for the past 15 minutes about the movie he took you to see earlier. “I felt like it had horrible production, you know? It really doesn’t deserve that treatment, the plot is too good to be portrayed so poorly. It was just wasted potential, babe. I don’t know if my standards are too high and if they are, that’s on me, but I just feel like-”
He rambled and you partially listened, knowing that it was probably best to just let him get it out of his system. Once he was set on a topic that really interested him or something that he had a lot to speak on, there was no stopping him
In a way, it was endearing. One of the many things you loved about Chan. There was never a dull moment with him, you couldn’t bite back your smile as you heard his continuous comments about the movie, playing with his hair and adding in the occasional ‘mhm’ when you felt that you’ve been too quiet
“What do you think?” The spotlight was finally on you and you only smiled at him, he was just too cute. For a moment, you pretended to think, which seemed to have actually fooled him as he sat and waited patiently for your answer. He pulled your hand up to his mouth while you pondered, planting a kiss and letting you think
“I think,” you start, pausing a bit to build up that suspense. “I think you’ve had a enough to drink for tonight, Channie.” He wished he could take that hand kiss back, rolling his eyes before starting on another topic
lee know pulls you to the center of the kitchen to dance with him
Casual drinking was one of his favorite ways to wind down whenever he could, so you weren’t surprised to come home to Minho blaring music from the radio on the counter, swaying back and forth with a glass in his hand
“Come here,” he calls with a sing-song tone, reaching for your hand and twirling you towards him once he got ahold of you. The smile on his face made you swoon, the mole on his nose much easier to see now that you were up close and personal
The two of you stayed like this, moving back and forth to the rhythm of the music, naturally letting him take the lead. It wasn’t alcohol that brought this side out of him, but you could tell that it had eased him, made him less tense, helped him live in the moment for just a bit
He whines a little when you break free from him, getting yourself comfortable at the dining table and watching his every move. “Stop crying,” you coo at him, satisfied in the way he kept dancing, putting on a show for you. “I can’t keep up with you, you’re too good.”
“You’re just a quitter,” he corrected you, spinning his way over to you, planting a kiss on your head. “Take some notes while you sit there.”
changbin clings to you like you’re a cuddly stuffed animal
A drastic change from his usual self, Changbin is weirdly quiet as he sips on his drink from across the table. His lips are so plump, his hairs a curly mess and there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. You find amusement out of sitting across from him and just observing
He senses your staring and looks up at you, mouth open like he has something he wants to say yet no words come out. Instead, he lifts himself out of the chair and drags his feet toward you, tugging at your sleeve and silently asking you to stand up
“Where are you taking me?” You laugh as you allow him to guide you to your bedroom, taking note of the slight stumble in his step and on alert to make sure he doesn’t fall. Truthfully, it isn’t surprising when he tackles you to the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around you
You learned that he was touchy when drunk a long time ago and since then, you mentally prepared yourself for the cuddle sessions that were guaranteed everytime he whipped out an alcoholic beverage. Not that you minded, though. He was always so warm
“Love you,” the tickle of his lips moving had you giggling as he mumbled into your neck, your bodies molded together perfectly. You scratched his back gently, cooing at how sweet he was being and letting him know that you felt the same way
hyunjin is knocked out within 30 minutes
It was Hyunjin’s idea to daydrink together, considering both of your schedules were free for the remainder of the week, which was rare. He referred to it as a ‘special occasion’, you just couldn’t say no when you saw the look in his eyes as he pulled out a bottle of alcohol for the two of you to share
Except you didn’t exactly share, you sipped on some water while he finished half of the bottle himself. He probably would’ve kept going if you hadn’t cut him off, but he listens to you more than he listens to anyone, so he lets it go. The thing about him is that he gets so tired when he’s drunk off of his ass, which is his current state, slumped across the entire sofa with his head in your lap
“You were so excited to celebrate our free time,” you point out as you watch him fight sleep, his eyelids fluttering shut just for him to force them back open. It doesn’t help that your fingers are running through his hair so soothingly, it’s so tempting to just drift off. “What happened to that?”
He looked up at you through his eyelashes, cheeks rosy and lips curled into a smile. “I did celebrate.” He motioned at the bottle sitting on the coffee table, letting out a string of giggles so strong that his body shook with each one. “You interrupted the celebration.”
You didn’t respond, continuing to massage his scalp with your nails. How was he supposed to stay awake while you did something like that? Before too long, light snores could be heard and you knew he was out for the night
han remains loyal and devoted to you
“I have someone waiting for me at home…” are the first words that come out of Jisung’s mouth as you wrap an arm around his body, supporting his weight. He looks at you, a little puzzled as to why you thought what he said was so funny. It was only the truth
You knew that you needed to act fast when you got the call from his friends, begging you to come take him home. His obnoxious yelling could be heard in the background and you could only laugh at how stupid he sounded on the other side of the phone. He was definitely past his limits
“Oh yeah?” You tease him a little more, slowly guiding him to your car, waving goodbye to his friends while focusing on keeping your boyfriend on his feet. It was a miracle just how vulnerable he became when he was drunk
“Yeah…” he sighs, letting you drop him into the passenger seat, keeping a firm grip on your jacket sleeve. His cheeks are all flushed as he stares up at you. “They’re so amazing. You kinda look like them.”
It was one of those moments that you wished you recorded. Maybe it was the bare minimum, maybe everyone should act the way that he is right now, but it made you melt into your seat to know that he always had on you on his mind even when it wasn’t in the right state
felix is the same sweetheart, but incredibly intensified
The boy is normally physically affectionate, a hand on your thigh or his leg tossed on top of yours when you’re sitting on the couch side by side. But when he’s drunk? Felix is on a whole new level. It’s as if he’s been touch starved for several years and skin to skin contact is the only thing keeping him breathing
“Lix,” you call out to him, unsure of whether or not he fell asleep. He had been laying still beside you for a while now, face pressed into your chest, arm lazily snaked across your side. “I need to use the bathroom.”
His hair tickles your collarbone as he shifts to stare up at you, the biggest pout on his face. It’s obvious that he wants nothing more than to just stay glued to you, he almost considers denying you and keeping you here. But, out of the goodness of his pure heart, he flings himself off of you and starts whining into his pillow
You make it fast, hurrying back to ease his loneliness despite being gone for 3 minutes max. He refuses you at first, dramatically shaking off your hand when you place it on his shoulder, but he can’t stay “mad” at you for the life of him. As soon as you cuddle up to him from behind, he melts and becomes putty in your hands
“This better?” You kiss the back of his shoulder and he only sighs in content, too tired and out of it to even respond. It would be embarrassing to open his mouth and have absolute nonsense tumble out of it anyway
seungmin literally doesn’t know what’s going on, is happy to be with you anyways
Seungmin always loves your company, no matter the situation. You are his person and just being around you brings him so much comfort that he can be himself in any setting. This also applies to the nights where you join him to have a few drinks with his friends
You can tell by the way his mouth is gaped open that he’s shitfaced, getting through to him is impossible. “Min, I got us an Uber,” you poke his side to which he jumps out of his skin, nearly falling off of the barstool. It took him three blinks of his eyes to register what you said, simply nodding and fumbling to zip up his hoodie
He hops off the seat with the your help, instantly slinging his arm around your waist as you dismiss yourselves and tell his friends to get home safe. You get along with all of them so well, Seungmin noticed this today and he can only feel himself fill with pride, it almost becomes overwhelming
“You’re so great,” he mumbles, stars littered in his eyes as he stares down at you, fingers gripping your shirt as he tries to stay balanced while waiting for the Uber. “They love you. Everyone loves you. I love you.”
Absolutely smitten. He can barely keep himself standing on his own two feet, he’s incredibly sluggish and every single syllable coming out of his mouth is slurred. Seungmin is out of his mind yet the one thing he can do is shower you with affectionate words and remind you how special you are to him
jeongin splits a snack with you while you sit on his floor
The way he managed to shove an entire poptart into his mouth in one go was impressive, but also concerning at the same time. “Why do you do that?” You laughed at how full his mouth was, resisting the urge to scold him. “You eat like an animal. Aren’t you afraid of choking?”
He doesn’t care, especially right now. Your words are strung together as you speak and they go from one ear out of the other, all he knows is that the poptart is damn good. “Everyone steals my food,” he explains with a heavy pout, leaning to the side until he finally rested his head on your shoulder, searching aimlessly for your hand
You noticed his frantic movement and saved him the suffering, grabbing it before intertwining your fingers. As soon as he felt your touch, he felt grounded, secure. It wasn’t originally in his agenda to get drunk on this Saturday night, but Jeongin liked to be spontaneous every once in a while, so here he sits
It would’ve been a lot worse if you weren’t here in all honestly. He probably would’ve just been alone and in his feelings the entire time, but you light him up in the best way possible. God, was he really an emotional drunk? Out of all of the drunk personalities in the world?
“ Well, sorry to ask, but can I steal your food?” Your question pulls him out of his thoughts, stinging eyes slowly following the direction of your pointed finger and landing on the other poptart in the pack. He laughs to himself before handing it to you
#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#lee know x reader#minho x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#i.n x reader#jeongin x reader#skz x reader#skz fluff#skz headcannons
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A willingness to trample him
“How about this one?” Jaskier asked, pointing at the brown mare with the white stripe down her face. “She looks just like the last.”
Geralt frowned at the horse, crossing his arms.
“No.”
Jaskier reached over the fence, attempting to pet the horse. She regarded his hand suspiciously.
“Seriously Geralt, what’s wrong with her? She’s strong, she’s fast, she even is -” The horse snapped at his hand and he pulled it back with a yelp. “See? She’s even as grumpy as the old Roach. Just the perfect fit for you.”
Geralt grunted in disagreement, scowling at the horse, as if she had personally offended him.
“Not her.”
He grabbed Jaskier’s sleeve, pulling him away from the horse and towards another one. Jaskier threw the farmer, who was watching them with in annoyance, an apologetic look. They had been at this for what felt like hours. He couldn’t fault the farmer for getting impatient with them.
“Listen,” Jaskier said, touching Geralt’s arm lightly. “I know this is hard for you. Roach was…Don’t tell her I said something nice about her, but she was a good horse. A good friend to you.”
Something twitched in Geralt’s expression.
“But giving her away was the right choice. She’ll be happy in her old age, munching on all the flowers her heart desires and getting all the pets from Henryk’s children.”
“I know it was right,” Geralt said. “Better than if she stayed with me and got hurt.”
Strangely, Jaskier got the feeling that Geralt was avoiding his eyes. Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him, scrutinising his carefully blank expression.
His heart stuttered, when he realised what Geralt wasn’t saying.
“Oh.” He swallowed and skipped ahead, so he was standing in front of Geralt, forcing him to look at him. “I want you to know,” he said in a mock-haughty tone, “That I’m neither old nor do I lack the sense to run away when there’s danger. I’m not going to get hurt by being with you. If anything, I’d be a danger to myself and society, when I’m on my own.” He dropped the falsely arrogant tone, becoming more sincere. “I’m not going to leave you, alright?”
Geralt’s lips twitched. “You’ve got crow’s feet.”
“Those - “Jaskier squawked, his voice moving up in pitch, “- are laughter lines! Because I just so happen to smile a lot when I’m around you and there’s nothing you can do to make me want to stop being with you. So.” He put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you worry about where to retire me to. I’m not leaving. In fact,” He turned around again, hopping onto the fence, “I would really appreciate it if you could finally find a new horse that you’re happy with so we can continue travelling together.”
During his tirade, Geralt’s face softened. He rolled his eyes fondly.
“You’re being an idiot,” Geralt said. He opened the door of the enclosure and walked past Jaskier.
“Naturally.” With a grin, Jaskier hopped down, following Geralt dutifully, as he looked over the horses. He tilted his head. “You weren’t that picky last time. It took you less than an hour to choose your new Roach.”
Jaskier still remembered that day well. He hadn’t known Geralt for long then and he was sure Geralt wouldn’t have taken him with him to pick a new Roach, if Jaskier hadn’t insisted.
“It was easier then,” Geralt said, mirth in his eyes, “I just picked the one that looked like she wanted to bite you.”
“You!” Jaskier gasped dramatically. “I knew it! You wanted to use your horse to get rid of me! So what? A biting horse didn’t work, so now you’re looking for one that wants to trample me?”
Geralt snorted and shook his head in fond exasperation. “Something like that.”
“Something like that,” Jaskier echoed. “Go on then. Tell me what it is you’re looking for in your most precious companion. I can take it.”
Geralt shot him a look out of the corner of his eyes. “I like a companion who’s quiet.”
“Liar,” Jaskier sing-songed easily.
“Fine.” Geralt let his eyes wander to a light grey horse, with a mane that might have been white once, if it hadn’t rolled around in the dirt before. “I like… loyalty. A horse that doesn’t just stay with me because she has to but because she learns to like me.”
“Well, that’s not hard to find,” Jaskier said. “You’re very likeable. Animals love you. Unless they’re cats, of course. But I’ve never met a horse who wasn’t wrapped around your little finger. What else?”
“I like a horse that…doesn’t mind if I lean against her? Or touch her even when it’s not necessary. She should be affectionate.”
Jaskier nodded along sagely.
“Pretty,” Geralt said so quietly and quickly that Jaskier wasn’t sure he had heard it right.
“What?”
“I like a…a pretty companion.” A bright red tinted the tips of Geralt’s ears and he turned his head away from Jaskier.
“Oh.” Jaskier fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “Well, of course. Your companion must be pretty to fit you.” He coughed awkwardly. “So. We’re looking for loyalty, open affection and beauty.”
They had reached the muddy horse by now. At the sound of Jaskier’s voice, she lifted her head, ears curiously turned towards him. As soon as Jaskier lifted his hands, her ears turned back and she snapped at him.
Immediately, Geralt guided him away, scowling at the horse in disappointment.
“Why not her?” Jaskier asked, nudging Geralt playfully, “She certainly has that willingness to trample me.”
“Not her,” Geralt said simply. He nudged Jaskier right back, with far more strength than Jaskier had used. It almost sent Jaskier tumbling into a pile of horse droppings. If it wasn’t for Geralt’s hand shooting out and catching him, Jaskier surely would have ruined his new doublet. It would have been a shame. He had bought it specifically to make a good impression on the new Roach.
That is, Jaskier was saved by Geralt’s hand and by something nudging his back until he was standing upright again. He turned around to see a light brown horse look at him curiously.
“Oh.” Jaskier lifted his hand to let her snuffle it. “Hello there.”
He could feel Geralt’s eyes on him, as he scratched the mare between her ears. She snorted a gust of warm breath into his face happily.
“You’re a pretty one,” Jaskier said, laughing in delight, as the horse’s soft nose snuffled at his hair. “And affectionate! Helpful too. Helpfulness is almost the same as loyalty, wouldn’t you say, Geralt?”
He turned his head to find Geralt looking at him with softness in his eyes.
“Too bad she’s keen on helping me instead of trampling me. She wouldn’t be of much use in helping you get rid of me. She likes me too much.”
As if to prove him right, the horse shoved him again, making him stumble straight into Geralt’s arms. Geralt caught him instantly. When Jaskier looked up, Geralt’s face was but a hand’s breadth away from his. Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat, when he noticed a light red dusting Geralt’s cheeks.
“She’s perfect,” Geralt said, one hand rubbing a small circle into Jaskier’s arm, while he reached out his other hand to pet the horse. “This is our new Roach.”
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Dinner & Dessert
Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist
Day Two: Free Use/CNC*/Rough sex w/Kun
Word Count: 1,581
*(consensual non-consent), if you don’t like any of this stuff or find it triggering in any way, please don’t read this. The events are things not explicitly discussed or consented to within this drabble, but were consented to in the past.
You’re making dinner with your back to the rest of the apartment, listening to music through a Bluetooth speaker, the volume turned so high that you don’t hear him come inside.
One moment you’re standing there singing along to the song while you prep the veggies, and in the next, the breath is half-knocked out of you, a pair of strong and familiar hands grip your hips, pinning you down against the countertop. Kun’s cologne touches your sense as one of his hands comes to cover your mouth to muffle your cry of surprise when he flips up the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing.
It’s all you’re wearing. A tshirt of his and a pair of panties.
“Did you know I was coming? Dressed all tempting like this for me, baby?” Kun growls, sending a wave of heat into your belly. “Fuck, I could see you through the window on my walk up the street. Did you leave the curtains open on purpose, so any man walking up the street would see you?”
You moan against his hand, unable to give him a proper answer, but it’s not like he’s looking for an answer anyway.
You turn your head, watching him from the corner of your eye as he reaches for a clean dish towel hanging just within reach. When he pulls his fingers from your mouth, it’s to instantly stuff the towel in instead.
“Gotta keep you quiet so the neighbors don’t hear,” Kun tells you, bending over your body to kiss your throat, to bite at your shoulder as his hands drag your shirt up higher over your ass, as he tugs your panties down to your knees.
Roughly, without any warning, you feel his cock against your entrance, pushing in.
Your moan is muffled entirely by the towel in your mouth. Not that Kun’s listening for it, he just thrusts the rest of the way inside you, burying his cock as deep as he can get.
When you first came to this agreement with Kun, he was a lot more tender, worried of hurting you in his moments of freely using you. But you wanted it, you assured him. The surprise. The roughness. He could be gentle afterwards, but in the moment, you wanted to feel helpless, useless for anything other than being his cumdump or just a warm, sweet hole for him to stick his cock in.
Over time he’d taken your words to heart, getting rough with you when he used you, not caring about hurting you a little so long as you didn’t use the safeword or the action that meant that you needed it to stop right now. There weren’t many times you’d had to use either one, and tonight is certainly not one of those occasions either.
Tonight, while Kun seems intent on blowing off steam on you, you also have been hoping for this all day to relieve the stresses that you’d dealt with at work. You need to be fucked out of your mind, and that’s what Kun’s perfect at doing when he uses you. You always go a little cockdumb, always float out of your head for a bit.
Every thrust of his cock inside of you crushes your hips against the edge of the countertop in a way that you know is gonna bruise. His hands grasp your hips tight enough, you expect to see bruises in the shapes of his fingertips in the morning.
Kun grunts and groans, sliding his cock inside you, slapping it against your perky ass when he pulls back. At one point he presses his tip briefly against your asshole, but when you give a full-body twitch (your ass is definitely not prepared to take him tonight, and while Kun’s always a little rough and doesn’t wait for your permission to do anything, he’s also not trying to actually hurt you like fucking your ass raw with no prep would hurt), he returns to burying his cock in your pussy.
“Do you think anyone’s watching now, baby girl? Anyone out there on the street looking up, seeing you getting your pussy abused?” Kun smacks your ass a little just to hear the softly muffled cry you give. When you make an attempt to lift up to look over at the window, Kun presses a hand harshly down between your shoulders, pinning your chest back down on the countertop. His hand slides up, fingers diving into your hair to keep your head down as he picks up the pace, brutally thrusting in, chasing his rising pleasure.
But you can see him, if you look at Kun from the corner of your eye. You can watch the way that his hair falls in front of his eyes, the way his face is flushed, the way he bites his lip when his gaze flicks up toward your face briefly before sinking back down to watch his cock disappear inside your pussy.
He’s close, you can tell.
Tragically, you’re nowhere close to cumming, not that it matters in this situation, but sometimes he lets you cum when he’s using you like this, other times he only cares for himself.
Kun pulls out without warning, moaning as he touches the tip of his cock to your asscheek, his knuckles brushing your skin as he jerks himself off, cumming over your ass, leaving you a mess as he steps back.
His hand swats your ass, the loud smack of it and the burn of his palm rush to your core, making you wish you’d cum, and a hot blush reaches your cheeks.
“Finish making dinner for me,” is all Kun says as he walks away.
You lie like that for another moment or two until you hear the shower turn on. Only then do you reach up to pull the towel from your mouth, reaching back with it to wipe at the stripes of Kun’s cum on your ass. You straighten up, feeling the slight ache in your hips and your lower back. The shirt falls back down into place, settling with the hem just beneath your ass, and the panties you let fall to the floor, kicking them aside to join the dirtied dishtowel.
You’re just finishing up preparing dinner when Kun returns.
His hair’s still damp and slightly curling. His cheeks are ruddy from the heat of the shower. You want to curl up against him, soak in the remnants of heat from the shower on his skin, feel his arms wrapped around you. You want gentleness from him now, and you don’t even have to ask for it.
This time when Kun comes up behind you, his arms go lightly around your waist, his lips brush your cheek.
“Kun,” you sigh,” reaching for one of his hands.
He hums as he uses his other hand to take a spoon, dipping it into the stew you’ve been preparing, and he brings the spoonful up to his lips to taste. He. Early chokes on that little taste when you unexpectedly yank his other hand down beneath the edge of your shirt.
His fingers feel amazing as you guide them to your sensitive, swollen clit. You sigh, rolling your hips slightly.
“Oh, did you want me to finish you off, baby girl?” Kun asks, nuzzling against the side of your head. “Is that part of the deal?”
You whine. You push the stew off the burner, and then you turn around to face him. “Please, Kun. I haven’t cum in three days.”
Kun smiles at that. “Oh, you poor thing.”
When you twist your fingers in the front of his shirt, whining again and rolling your hips against the light touch of his fingers on your clit, Kun laughs.
“What?” You pout, not liking that he’s laughing when you just want him to finish getting you to your orgasm.
“I’ll tell you what, baby. You sit on my cock while we eat, keep it warm and wet, and afterwards, if you’re good, I’ll fuck you.” His hand slides away from your pussy altogether. “But if you’re bad, if you try to do anything more than just cockwarm me while we eat, I’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth instead, giving you four days without cumming. Okay?”
It doesn’t sound like an entirely fair deal, but you nod in agreement.
You sit on Kun’s cock while you eat dinner together, keeping his cock warm and hard inside you. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not bounce or squirm or hump him a little just to help with that tingly heat low in your belly. But it pays off.
As soon as you’re both finished eating, Kun pushes away the dishes right in front of you on the table, he lays you facedown on the table with your ass up for him, and he fucks you just like that until your legs go numb and your pussy is leaking wetness down your thighs. This time Kun cums inside you, pressing his chest to your back, his lips murmuring praises and sweet words into your hair.
“Go clean yourself up,” Kun tells you tenderly as he lifts you from the table. You press up on your toes to kiss him, lose yourself in that for a few moments, finally getting to curl yourself against his chest and soak in his warmth and softness for a few moments. “Go shower, baby,” Kun reminds you after a couple minutes. “I’ll clean up here.”
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Love tta!! if you don’t mind me asking, how long have aemond x reader been sleeping in the same room?
Hi! Thank you ♡ and of course you can ask!
tta headcanons: the evolution of sleeping - aemond targaryen.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader.
Word Count: 800+.
Through The Ages Masterlist.
Aemond fatigues faster than most because it takes him a lot more energy than the average citizen to perform his day-to-day tasks after losing his eye.
It started out quite early on after meeting him - Aemond would nap during the day, and you would either go about your day as normal or continue with your studies in his room while he slept.
Then one day you end up falling asleep on the chaise lounge in his room before him so, he just leaves you there and goes to his bed (he makes sure to bar the door to his room beforehand though, he isn’t stupid enough to risk someone walking in).
From there, it just becomes a part of your routine to nap together depending on what the two of you get up to in the day.
You always sleep on the lounge and Aemond in his bed.
One afternoon you wake up with a stiff neck though so, Aemond has a larger, more comfortable lounge brought to his room.
You both also just sleep wherever you are at the time whether that be under a tree in the gardens or in the family room.
On the anniversary of your maiming however, you always struggle to sleep.
Something that Aemond was aware of; you'd spoken to him before at length about how bad the nightmares could be.
It’s particularly bad in your seventeenth year and Aemond’s sixteenth because you weren’t getting any rest during the day either.
So bad that Aemond finds you wandering the Red Keep in the middle of the night by chance upon his return from Old Town on dragon back with Aegon.
Aemond insists you come with him for a warm drink (Aegon making a comment about how much of a sap Aemond is toward you but, it goes over your head because you’re so tired).
At first you refuse because of the late hour but, Aemond reminds you that he’d just been on dragon back and still had quite a bit of adrenaline coursing through him so, he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.
Sneaking in through the hidden door, you enjoy your warm drink while Aemond cleans himself up.
You wander his room while he does that and notice an unfamiliar book on his bedside table.
Taking a seat on his bed, you open up the book and begin to read - the book making no sense as you slowly begin to drift off until your sound asleep in his bed.
There are several conflicting emotions going through Aemond when he returns to the sight of you sleeping in his bed.
Yearning (and desire but he quashes it) at the sight of you in his bed.
Relief because you were finally getting some sleep.
Panic when he spots his journal resting on your chest.
It’s only opened to the third page so, there’s some relief in that but, it doesn’t do much to remedy how panicky he feels.
Pushing the feeling to the side though, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your usual spot on the lounge.
He’d just have to deal with the blowback in the morning.
Opening his journal, Aemond begins to write when a strange sound comes from where you sleep.
He doesn’t think anything of it and returns to writing until the quiet sound begins to sound like quiet choking.
Aemond rushes to your side and wakes you up and, you immediately burst into tears and cling to him.
Aemond’s already hurting heart breaks for you and he wraps his arms around you and slips beneath the blankets.
He strokes your hair and sings a song he’d heard you singing many times before.
The two of you fall asleep like that.
When he wakes the next morning, you’re gone.
He meets you at midday and the two of you speak nothing about it except for you asking about the strange book you began reading on his bedside table.
Aemond is horrified when you tell him that despite how confusing you found it, you quite liked it and would like to read the rest of it.
At night fall, you find yourself standing in Aemond’s room again.
He tucks you in and makes a move for the couch but, you pull him beneath the blankets without a word.
It becomes routine every year on the anniversary and slowly seeps into your nap routine as the two of you opt for resting together in his bed instead of your usual spots.
Aegon walks in one day when Aemond forgot to bar the door and spots the two of you.
He attempts to lord it over Aemond’s head but, immediately backs down at the threatening look on Aemond's face and Aemond asking, "are you challenging me, brother?"
Aegon never speaks of it again.
-
All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.
Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.
bookofbonbon 2022. All rights reserved.
#through the ages: series#tta: series#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#inbox 💌#anonymous#request
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DANCING WITH MYSELF
— PART FIVE
summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend.
❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
❖ word count: 1,546
❖ genre: fluff with some angst
❖ series status: complete
❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten
Nights were warm and the days were young, and you had fully surrendered yourself to the hypnotic power of David Bowie and his “Golden Years.”
(Come get up, my baby)
You lost yourself in the crowd as you swayed to the music and sang aloud. Eyes closed. Hands on your hips, on your face, in your hair, floating into the air. You were no longer on the dance floor. Now you were alone in your bedroom, a child again, dancing freely without a care. (Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years) You had no sense of self. No sense of shape. You were a mighty waterfall flowing out into forever. You were a majestic bird extending your wings and soaring high into the sky, higher and higher, higher and
“Oof!”
falling hard on your ass.
(Come get up, my baby)
The crowd parted around you like an ebbing wave, making you feel strangely powerful. Eyes that never once noticed you were now staring down at you with concern. Hands reached out. So many hands. Football players. Cheerleaders. Preps. Nerds. Burnouts. The damn student council president, with his Buddy Holly glasses. He bent down next to you, said, “Whoa… you okay?” and you threw your hands over your mouth and started to laugh.
Then the crowd parted again, this time for Chrissy Cunningham. She came stumbling toward you in her teal dress, barely able to stand because she was giggling so much. “Oh my god…! Are you okay?”
You looked up at her and smiled a lopsided smile. “I’m a mess.”
Chrissy said, “No, you’re perfect… C’mon, honey.”
She took your hands and lifted you to your feet, then continued to dance with you, swinging your arms, singing under her breath: “Run for the shadows, run for the shadows… Run for the shadows in these golden years…”
You said, “We’re graduating soon.”
“I know.”
“I’m terrified!”
Chrissy laughed. “I know!”
And you threw your arms around Chrissy’s neck and hugged her tight, almost knocking her off balance.
Throughout your life, you had probably hugged Chrissy a thousand times. Hello hugs. Goodbye hugs. Happy hugs. Sad hugs. Hugs that made you fall to pieces and then put you back together again. And it dawned on you now, just now, that soon—much sooner than you’d like—you two would be sharing your last hug. You wouldn’t have her to lean on anymore. And that scared the shit out of you.
You mumbled into her shoulder, “You know I love you, right?”
Chrissy smiled. “I know.” Then she pulled away and pressed her hand to your forehead, as if checking for a fever. “You’re overheated.”
“Yeah… I think I’m gonna take a break, go get a drink.”
“Okay…” And as you turned to leave, Chrissy gave your backside a little swat and said, “Go ice your ass,” making you both break up into giggles again.
You walked off the dance floor feeling exhausted and elated, humming the rest of the song to yourself. Strings of yellow light glistened through the canopy like stars in a cloudy night sky. You stared at them for a minute, breathless, and thought, Yeah… this really is kinda perfect, isn’t it?
Then, somewhere, an indistinct sound broke your focus—a cough, a laugh, a tinkle of glass, you weren’t sure—but something dragged your eyes away from the dazzling lights and drew your attention to the darkened corner of the room, where Eddie Munson was standing awkwardly next to one of the vine-covered pillars, looking totally out of his element.
And now that you were looking at him, now that you saw him, no sound in the world could tear your eyes away.
It was like you were back in school, sitting in the cafeteria and pretending to listen to all the mindless table chatter happening around you. Really, you were just watching Eddie the whole time. Waiting for him to do something obnoxious and absurdly theatrical. That way, you would have an excuse to talk to him next period. Call him a jackass or something because you were too nervous to say anything else.
And day after day, insult after insult, you kept digging yourself into a deeper hole.
Now, six years later, you were desperately trying to climb out of it.
Because you were running out of time.
You sucked in a breath, shook the nerves out of your hands, then began your climb.
Okay… here we go… Pretty in Pink, Pretty in Pink, Pretty in Pink…
You crept up beside him, tried to play it cool. “Guess you found another sucker, huh?”
Eddie flinched at the sound of your voice, glanced at you, then looked away. “Oh… no… nobody would give up their ticket.”
(Climbing, climbing, getting dirt in your nails)
“Oh,” you said, “so how’d you get in?”
He shrugged. “I just, uhh, ran like hell.”
Your jaw dropped. “Really? Wow!” You pictured Eddie hurdling over the admission table and taking off down the hall like an Olympic sprinter. “And security didn’t tackle you? Well, suddenly I don’t feel very safe…” and you watched the lights dance across his distant face, a painful yearning growing inside you.
(Climbing… climbing… skidding, falling)
“So I guess you’re a wanted man now, huh?”
You don’t know why you said that. It wasn’t even funny.
Eddie said, “Yeah, I guess,” and the conversation died as soon as Bruce Springsteen started singing “Hungry Heart.”
Way down in your hole, you could barely hear the music, barely see Eddie. They were shoveling the dirt over you now. It showered over you like a heavy rain, getting in your mouth, in your hair, ruining your dress.
Still, you kept trying to climb. Like an idiot, you kept trying.
“Bet you’re mad they didn’t ask your band to play, huh?” You posed this question to Eddie with a huge grin and waited for him to react: to smirk, to scoff, to do anything, but he just kept staring at the dance floor. It was like he didn’t even hear you.
(And how could he? You had fallen so far…)
You gave his shoulder a light smack and said, “Please tell me you brought your guitar, Munson, because I would pay good money to see you hijack that stage and bust out some Sabbath right now, turn this dance floor into one giant mosh pit.” You laughed out loud, alone. “Come on, man, give the people what they want!”
“Why?” said Eddie, his brown eyes rolling toward you. “So you can make fun of me?”
And that stung. A lot.
You swallowed hard. There was a click in your throat. “Uh… no… I just…”
You closed your mouth, and his eyes rolled away again. This time, you followed them, chased them like a dog chases a tennis ball. What you saw stole all the strength from your arms and legs, and you felt yourself slipping, sinking all the way to the bottom.
He was looking at Chrissy. Of course, he was looking at Chrissy. Everybody was always looking at Chrissy. She was the Sun, and the entire Solar System revolved around her, while you…
“I’m invisible to you, aren’t I?”
The words came out in a broken whisper, barely audible over the music, but somehow Eddie heard them.
“What?”
He was looking at you now, actually looking at you. Normally, this simple act would make your heart flutter or skip a beat, but right now it didn’t make you feel anything.
“You don’t even know my name,” you said in a stuffy voice. “How do you not know my name?”
Eddie threw his head back and sighed, like talking to you was so tiring. “Look, I know your name, okay?”
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
“What?”
“What’s my name? You know it. What is it?”
“Oh, come on—”
“What is my name? Not ‘Chrissy’s friend.’ Not ‘the one who rolls her eyes all the time.’ What’s my name, Eddie? You know it. Say it. What’s my name?”
“Look, I—”
“WHAT’S MY NAME?”
That’s when Eddie burst out: “OH MY GOD, WHY DOES IT MATTER?” And you staggered back a little, as if slapped. “We’re not friends. We don’t even talk to each other. So why does it matter if I know your name or not? Huh? Why do you even care?”
You just stood there, blinking back tears. Eddie saw one slip down your cheek, and his angry expression broke into one of utter sorrow.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry… I’m really not trying to be an asshole, I just… Look, this isn’t why I came here, okay? This isn’t how I wanna spend my night, and I don’t think it’s how you wanna spend yours, either. So can we just take a time out? Please? Just for one night? On Monday, you can go right back to mocking me like you usually do. You can totally rip me apart, okay? Seriously, just eviscerate me. I just… I can’t deal with this tonight.”
Then Eddie pulled—no, ripped himself away from you and walked off, leaving you alone with your hungry heart.
Get a tombstone. You were done, dead, buried alive in the hole you created. And that, that right there, was your eulogy.
_____________________
PREV // CURRENT // NEXT
#eddie munson#stranger things#fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#chrissy cunningham#jason carver#chrissy x jason#eddie x chrissy#stranger things 4#st4#ambrossart#dancing with myself#dwm#fanfiction
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50. Disney Princess Film AU from this prompt list
No one prompted me for this– BUT I’d been talking about this with @purplesallthewaydown and then it was there as a prompt. So El, clearly I need to unleash this into the world.
Enchanted AU lets go– please….suspend EVERY disbelief you have. This will not make sense lmao
Daniel is Giselle, he’s in Monaco from the fairy tail land of Perth. He got here because he was driving around in his truck, singing a happy song and following a horse that just wanted to run and they ended up at the airport. The birds told him that the planes make humans fly like them and he thought that was as good an idea as any.
So he’s in Monaco, he’d been walking around, bumping into things because he’s doing tourist thing where you look up instead of in front of you. He comes to the pier and he’s tired, the birds in Monaco aren’t as helpful as the birds back home and he wants to go home. He’s singing an almost sad song and bumps into Max who is doing his normal daily run. They fall to the ground, Max atop Daniel naturally.
They’re both stunned, surprised, speechless. Max scrambles up and helps Daniel to his feet.
“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” Max is checking Daniel over, making sure his oversized sweatshirt maybe didn’t get ripped or his knees didn’t get skinned since he’s wearing tiny shorts. He clocks the bright tattoos on Daniel’s thigh, maybe they glow a little with Daniel’s inner Disney Princess happiness?
“I’m ok. I just don’t know where I am.” Daniel smiles sheepishly, embarrassed. He hadn’t been able to find many other wild animals and the birds really weren’t helpful here.
“Oh? Where are you from?” Max is now concerned, because who truly gets lost nowadays with technology where it was.
“I’m from Perth!” Daniel says proudly, a wide smile on his face. “The birds guided me.”
Did his tattoos glow a little brighter?
“That’s in Australia right?”
Daniel shrugs in a very uncaring way. What did he know about geography when he enjoyed his days basking in the sun by his family’s ranch or hiking in the mountains or by the beach swimming with the mermaids?
Max presses his tongue behind his teeth as he thinks of what to do. Daniel gets distracted by a butterfly and starts following behind it dreamily, maybe she will guide him back home. He almost bumps into another jogger when Max grabs his arm and pulls him back into his space. They both blush.
“I’m Max.”
“Daniel!”
Max takes Daniel home, because it's the only logical next step. He can maybe book him a flight back to Perth if Daniel has no family around. It's a lot in terms of being a good samaritan, but Max is loaded and single and lives alone in the city and a race car driver on time off.
So they're in Max’s flat and he pulls out a laptop to check flights maybe, and gets distracted by Daniel literally curled around Jimmy and Sassy. He was talking to them softly and they were purring up a storm. Max has never seen this happen in his life. Sassy hates people and Jimmy takes 5 business days to allow pets.
He’s floored, flabbergasted, flummoxed. Just who was this guy?
Daniel is supremely happy, Jimmy and Sassy are wonderful hosts. They’ve told him that the birds here are in fact unfriendly, and mean. They told him that Max is wonderful but he’s often not home so they sometimes get lonely, but they’re happy together. So he starts singing to them, a lovely little ditty about nutsacks and ball hair and they cuddle closer to him. His tattoos glow brighter and the ship sails move a little because that's what they do when Daniel is happy.
Max is just staring at this all happening on the floor by his patio doors– what the actual fuck is going on?
So since Daniel is distracted with the cats, Max googles about any magic in Australia. And apparently…there's a lot. It's a utopia for magical creatures and some humans that live there are gifted, it's usually a good way to tell if someone is a good person or not– how strong their aura and aptitude. Considering Daniel was glowing and talking to his fucking cats, Max thinks that an ok sign.
“Uhm, Daniel?”
“Yes Maxy?” Daniel sung back, looking up from the cats.
“How did you get here?”
“Oh! It was like the most amazing thing!” Daniel clambers up and breaks out into song about how he had been gossiping with the horses and alpacas and then they went for a ride and the birds told him about the ‘airport’ which was a very weird place with birds for people. And he got on a big bird plane and fell asleep and got snacks and slept some more.
And while this is happening, Max is sat in his couch wide eyed as this man dances around his apartment, singing. And birds started hovering on his patio, unable to do more because it's screened in. Daniel flutters to a stop on the couch beside him and hugs Max close because he’s so happy and Max has been so nice to him. And his mom said that sometimes people want to try to take advantage of him but Sassy and Jimmy promised that Max is good, and he believes them.
And Max is….poor thing. Max is completely out of his depth. He’s thunderstruck. But there's a part of his brain that wants to keep Daniel, and he doesn’t know what to do.
Part 2
#and Max maybe kinda waffles about buying daniel that ticket home and takes him hiking in the mountains#and daniel is so so happy because the birds up HERE are much nicer and the squirrels and other wildlife and he sings more#and he glows and the animals follow them and Max has to explain to people that this is...normal maybe#writing prompt#but he's SO endeared#disney enchanted au#maxiel#max/daniel
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CONGRATS FOR 500 FOLLOWERS!!!! <3 Lots of love bestie🥰🥰🥰🥰
I saw the prompts and thought, "i ought to request this rn!!!" Sooooo
Hunter with 1st would be amazing:D no pressure ofc 🫶🫶
Also, don't forget, we all love you!!! 💗💗
THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE MY SWEET FRIEND! Goodness. <3
Hunter x Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.3k words - pic/gif by @barissoffee <3
You unsuccessfully stifled a giggle at the little wisecrack the unbelievably handsome clone in front of you had just made. You could hardly believe your luck tonight. You were sitting at a table with a dark-skinned, sexy beast of a man with sharp features and an even sharper mind, having a thoroughly enjoyable conversation when you hadn’t been able to land a decent date in years. A number of similarities had already made their existences known, amid a great many differences, but you couldn’t deny there was definitely a connection. The discussions deepened over dinner, heads bending closer together, eyes meeting more frequently and holding each other’s gaze more often. He seemed to be letting his guard down, and you were loving every minute of it.
“So he just blew the whole thing up?” you asked incredulously, waving your ice cream cone to mimic an explosion. The two of you were enjoying dessert on a stroll down the beach boardwalk. It was a balmy summer evening that felt warm and heavy, with the occasional refreshing cool breeze. The ocean waves lapped at the shore, the gentle roar of the waters providing a soothing white noise that complemented the dark velvet sky.
“Immediately,” Hunter responded, completely unphased. He casually licked some of the chocolate ice cream from the side of his own cone, then smirked when he caught you staring at it a little too long.
“What?” you asked, your accusatory tone masking the sheepishness you felt at his noticing.
“Oh, nothing,” he said in an almost sing-song voice, but it was low and husky. The gleam in his eye gave him away, and you leaned in to elbow him in the side, but he swerved. Moving faster than you could expect, the next thing you knew, his arm was around your shoulders and you were leaning against his side.
“Well that was smooth,” you teased, but you definitely weren’t complaining. The thick planks of the boardwalk, now stretching out across a long dock, were always uneven, so you appreciated the support, to avoid falling. It was purely logical.
“You’re the smooth one,” came the reply, “This has gone incredibly well for a date you weren’t expecting to be on.”
“What?!” you gasped, feeling a hot flush explode across your body as you dropped your ice cream cone. How had he known?! You wracked your brain, searching for anything you might have said that gave it away, and almost didn’t hear his chuckle as he stopped, releasing his arm from your shoulder and leaning casually on the railing. He gazed out across the dark ocean, hair ruffling in the breeze, and gave a light, satisfied sigh as he finished his own cone. When he realized you were still gaping like a fish out of water, standing across from him as straight as an arrow, he decided to explain.
“You were incredibly tense at the start, different from the basic nervousness of a first date, which usually points to a few possibilities, one of which is some sort of deception. Asked a few simple questions around the things I wanted to know, and your responses pretty much gave you away.”
“That is insanely perceptive. And kind of sneaky on your part!” you answered. Mind reeling, you placed a hand on the railing to try to ground yourself, frantically searching for the right thing to say.
“Nothing sneaky about paying attention to what your senses tell you,” he shrugged, rising to his full height and taking a step closer, one hand laying gently over yours. Your heart skipped a beat and it suddenly felt harder to breathe. Hunter tilted his head, observing you with a smug sort of interest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked suddenly, pulling back a tiny bit.
“Oh! Sorry, uh… no…” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes. “But…” you took a deep breath before spitting out the rest, “...why did you stay?”
“Sometimes the evening’s plan for us is different than we expect it to be. I figured I’d roll with it, and the fact that it went so well, and the actual date never showed, makes me quite happy to be standing here with you,” he said, reaching his other hand out to toy with your waist. Your breath caught in your throat. He took a step closer. “But I have a question for you… Why did you sit down?”
“I don’t even… that’s insane,” you breathed, smiling like an idiot now. He knew, and he was still here, close, interested… “I heard you tell the waiter you were waiting, and I spent the entire time building up the courage, because something in me just couldn’t let a gorgeous thing like you be stood up. I didn’t expect it to actually work, nor for you to be so… ah… oh, kriff.” The words were flowing out like a mess, and you buried your face in your hands.
“A gorgeous thing like me…” he echoed, except it sounded so unbelievably velvety in his smooth voice. “Not the worst thing I’ve been called,” he poked, hand still resting on your hip with one idle thumb brushing back and forth. It was sending fire throughout your body that made it even harder to think. “But don’t let me interrupt -- you were saying?”
You laughed, refusing to pull your face away from its cave of shame, and yet also felt like a runaway train -- the words were already out, and you were already discovered. So you finished, “I didn’t expect you to be so interesting and smart and witty. I thought you’d be shallow and full of yourself.”
“Ah, little jab at the end there. We can discuss that later. But I appreciate the honesty,” Hunter assessed, and you felt his hand pull back, finally provoking you to look up at him.
“That’s the problem,” you continued, more softly now. “I wasn’t honest… I pretended to be someone else… Not a great way to start… anything.” You cringed, feeling as though every word was digging you deeper into a hole, and lowered your eyes back to the railing immediately. Then you felt a gloved hand on your cheek, unfathomably soft as it grazed across and disappeared as quickly as it came. Your breath caught in your throat, heart racing, and you saw him lean toward you in your peripheral vision.
“Hey,” he said gently, conjuring sensations of a richly wooded forest, tendrils of smoke, and smooth leather all at once with a single word. Damn, you had it bad for this guy, and you’d messed it all up. But his fingers were on your chin now, inviting you to meet his gaze, which you did, another thrill rushing through your body. “Why don’t we keep walking and we can discuss the ethics of your decision and the motivations behind it? I’m sure there are some strategic tactics in there that we can learn from.” He tilted his head, a glimmer in his eyes, and you felt a bashful smile creep across your own face as you rested a hand on his forearm.
“I suppose if it’s for science…” you murmured, and his rumbling chuckle was music to your ears as he swooped his arm across your shoulders again and turned to continue down the boardwalk.
* * *
Hunter was methodical. Painstakingly so, at times. Somehow he’d agreed to meet you again, and again, and again… You couldn’t believe your luck but didn’t want to tempt fate by inquiring. You’d hiked through the canyon, marveling at the rushing river and the oddly-shaped branches of the trees. You’d played a variety of games at a local cafe, losing track of time with conversation and competition. And now you were climbing up what felt like the side of a mountain, but it was really just the longest series of switchback stairs you’d ever encountered. Your mind was full of questions (and complaints) but when you reached the top, your mouth dropped, already dry from breathing so heavily on the way up.
It was a scenic vista, a natural shelf that provided a flat place to spread out, backed up against the smooth rock wall that continued upward. But there were pillows and blankets galore, piled up in a circle that looked almost like a nest. A few unlit candles sat in the middle, surrounded by an enticing variety of snacks.
“Guess the wind took care of the candles,” Hunter observed as he joined you, a small smirk weaving its way across his lips at the look on your face.
“Hunter,” you breathed, heart skipping a beat at the sheer excitement of all of it, “This is amazing.”
“It really does look great,” he agreed, following your gaze to take it all in. “I wonder who it’s for.”
“What!” you gasped, looking back at him as waves of shock and embarrassment and confusion all took turns cascading over you. “We need to get out of here then! What are you--” His laughter broke your stream of anxiety, rendering you speechless for a moment. When you recovered, you palmed your face once again. “You’re ridiculous,” you grumbled, shaking your head with a smile.
“Hey, if you can steal someone’s date,” he said in mock sternness, “I can too. Don’t worry, I took care of the people who were expecting to use it.”
“Took care of…?” you repeated, eyes growing wide as a chill of fear took a stab at your stomach. But you caught the glint in his eyes this time, exhaling heavily and smacking his arm. “You have to stop,” you sighed, “I can’t keep up with all of this. No more deception!” Your face and tone were playful, and he leaned back toward you after recoiling from your swat.
“Fair enough,” he said, quieting his mirth now, “No more deception.” He took your hand in his and led you to the pillows and blankets, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable. He took off all of his armor, which was a delightful first that had you gawking unabashedly at his form-fitted black base layers, and crawled up next to you, stretching an arm across your shoulders as you placed a hand and a head on the side of his chest.
The sun had been setting the entire time you were climbing, and now it was far enough below the horizon that the deep blue of twilight had thoroughly settled. But the sea breeze and crisp evening air was no match for the heat radiating between the two of you, and you sighed deeply as you listened to his steady heartbeat, punctuated by the waves crashing on the shore.
The conversation wandered, as it always did, and before long you found yourself talking about some abstract element of clone helmets. There was laughter and teasing, with increased pokes and tickles and touches by each of you, and you felt as though you could burst with joy. The two of you had worked your way down to be lying flat on your backs, his arm still around you, gazing up at the stars above. You sat up on an elbow, turning instead to look down at him, marveling at his sharp features bathed in the increasing moonlight. His brown eyes met yours, softening immediately and melting your heart at the same time.
You lifted a hand to his cheek, tracing the outline of the skull tattoo, wanting so desperately to kiss him but finding yourself unable to move your head to his. The electricity sparked in the air between you, unspoken yearning across both faces, and you felt a firm hand cup the back of your hair, setting everything in motion. Hunter pulled you down gently, eyes searching yours as he closed the distance until they fluttered shut. His lips met your own with a feather-light touch, unfathomably soft and tender, and pulled away with a quiet sound. Your eyes flew open, looking at him with shock and delight, and he opened his mouth to speak.
But he never got the words out. This time you brought your mouth to his, kissing him urgently, one hand on the side of his cheek and the other pressing into his chest. Your entire body was vibrating with euphoria, and you shifted closer to bring yourself close against his entire side. His other hand found your waist as he tilted his head, parting his lips to take yours again with more passion, and his quiet rumble of contentment was something you would do anything to hear again. When you finally pulled apart, foreheads still pressed together in blissful intimacy, you were both grinning like idiots.
“I’d say this worked out quite well, all things considered,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck as you laughed.
#the bad batch#tbb#bad batch#star wars fanfiction#star wars the bad batch#x reader#reader insert#hunter x reader#hunter fluff#hunter bad batch#hunter#tbb hunter#the bad batch hunter#clone thirsting#x reader fluff
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