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day-drawn-blog · 8 months

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Part VIII: "Your blood like wine, I wanted in. Oh darling get me drunk, invite me in" - I want to live.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

Tags: SMUT.

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.

Part IX : I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

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"Maybe I should help clean you. " He smiled. "We don't want to attract, any more...vampires" He waded towards you in waist deep waters. "I am not one to share my treasures with others, you see". He smirked as he picked up a linen cloth then stood in front of you. Gently he placed the warm wet cloth on your shoulder cut. You had suffered quite a few from the splinter shower earlier.

On your cheeks, shoulders. Collarbones.

You felt his touch. His breath on your skin. A sensation was spreading through you. But you steeled yourself. You wanted to... no, you needed to talk to him. Confront him...on his confounding behavior. His oscillating warmth and icy cold demeanor. Of Shadowheart... yes, you definitely needed to talk about her... And what about... the other night, when his bite evolved to...more.

No, you didn't want to talk to him about that.

Silence shrouded you both, as you were lost in thought, only broken by the sound of the splashing water. As he kept cleaning each wound, one by one. Lost in his own world. Was he returning your favor, of dressing his wounds from the other night? You wondered. This man....had a way of returning every favor you did him. Why? Except when he drinks you, the only thing he does, is .... Kiss you.

So that's why ....he kissed you.

Of course! Hah. You weren't sure if you felt glad you figured him out or sad to know his true intentions. You laughed at yourself for thinking he had any real affection for you. Your smile broke him out of his reverie. "Hmmm...?" He looked at you, with solemn eyes. "You haven't come for my blood in a while. You found other... sources, I presume". You waited. Did you want him to crave you and you alone?

Don't be silly, you told yourself.

"I wasn't sure ... if I could have restrained myself. So I kept my distance". He looked at you. Sincere, but with piercing, intense eyes. "Every time I drink you, I lose myself in you... Perhaps, because ...you are my first ....my master once said ..." He trailed off. "No, never mind".

Another secret. You thought.

"Are you saying... I'm bad for you?" He chuckled at the conclusion you had drawn. "Quite the contrary. I'm afraid. But I wasn't happy, not knowing, didn't know...how I would feel, the next time...". He put both his hands around you, holding the ledge of the water. Caging you. "But, I may have a faint idea, why...if you let me, I could confirm, if I'm right".

"Sure. Glad to help". The Hero in you responded without thinking.

He grinned.

Then put two fingers on your chin, and then trailed the fingers down your neck, settling on your chest. Between your breasts on your bodice. Then a flick of his wrist, and he had undone the clasps. Before you had time to react, he held both your hands and pinned them behind you.

What? Your bodice was undone!

Wait! Shocked you looked at him. Your nipples still covered by what remained of the material. You felt blood rush to your face. He was still smiling. Very pleased. "Did you like my sleight of hand, cap'n" he grinned at you. Your face was hot. You tried to wrest free but your arms were still held in his strong grasp. With the same two fingers, he gently pushed the unbuttoned bodice over your left shoulder.

No...please ...you bit your lips.

"I do like it when you plead me with your eyes" his eyes were heavy, drunk with lust it seemed. You resolved not to let him have what he wanted. You pursed your lips determined not to let a sound escape. "200 years with countless victims, of course, you have perfected your skills" you cut back.

Perhaps bitter, that you were not his first.

"Not of my own free will" he answered sadly, "And yet some of them couldn't even grant me temporary pleasure." There was regret in his voice. You looked at him. Unsure what to make of that emotion. "What makes you think, I will?" You asked, indignant. Still a prisoner in his hands, trying to wrest free.

He smirked at that challenge.

"Come now, don't be coy. Your body's already given you away... I could feel it, as I was getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement....". You couldn't refute him. Remembering what you did the last time. By now he had taken every bit of clothing off your chest and laid it on the grass behind. He took you in with his eyes. No....don't look. You looked to the side.

Don't look at me.

He was just getting started. Fully exposing you, he circled a nipple with his thumb. You arched your back. The pleasure was unbearable. Then he touched another with his thumb, you moaned. He then took it between two long fingers, and stretched his hand to touch the other one with his thumb. Squeezing your breasts together with one hand.

You couldn't hold it any longer.

Your breath quickened. You let out quiet little moans and sucked in air. Breathing with your mouth, short of air. He dropped his lips on your open mouth and found your tongue with his. The devil. But you felt your resolve melt away. You kissed him back. He let your hands go, and held you in his arms caressing your back. You pulled him into your embrace, tugging at his hair. You didn't want this moment to stop.

"I know...." he said briefly before kissing you again, "...how you feel..." then kissed you again... "...because I feel it too..."

You reached down and grabbed him.

He moaned. A low throaty growl. He was already enlarged and extremely thick. Hard. "You cheeky little pup. Aren't you just....asking for it". He smirked again, pleasantly surprised. You pumped with your hands. The odd sense of control and when you pleasured him was ... unfamiliar and...all consuming. As if, the tables had turned. He shuddered at your moves.

"The gods made you, to ruin ...me".

He whispered, on your neck, before pulling your hands out and holding them, about your head. "Patience, darling" he growled. Then as if to punish your transgression put a finger down your underwear. Your felt a flame engulf you. The throbbing between your legs was excruciating. You wanted to feel him press against you.

He put his lips on your chest, between your breasts.

He looked at you, piercing, smouldering. "Push me away, if you like, my love" he said. You didn't know what warranted this warning from him till you felt something cold and sharp touch your skin. You looked down at him to find him sinking his fangs into you. A wave of euphoria courses through you. You couldn't tell if it was him drinking you, or his fingers, between your legs. It was all too much.

You leaned back and looked at the stars.

You felt all your strength leave you. Intoxicated you stared at the night sky. You could let him ruin you. You would surrender to him if he wished. You could be his if he wanted...forever. He took his hand out of your legs and held you squarely around your hips. Then he stopped drinking and licked his bite mark the way he always did. Then kissed it. And licked the side of your left breast. Eventually he engulfed one in his mouth.

You moaned out loud.

He put a hand on your mouth. "Hush darling...". Probably the sensible decision...you were in a rather, compromising state. You wouldn't want to be discovered. But what were you to do as he licked and kissed your breasts. There was something you needed to tell him...or ask him..but what was it. It felt like a lifetime ago. You could no longer remember. All you could think of, was your pulsating core, as you straggled him harder under the water.

"I think we should get back, darling".

"You must be exhausted and in need of some food...and rest.". He lifted you up from your half recline. You fell on his shoulders and embraced him. All you wanted, was to be close to him. Euphoric, ecstatic he had made you feel things you hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. On his shoulders, you felt, your burning core. You gripped his shoulders, his back...hard. Your naked upper bodies, wet from the water, touching.

"Ravish me. Ravage me..." You begged.

"I wouldn't want to eat you up, all at once"

You could feel his grin. That half smile that you found so attractive. "I want to savor you...slowly ....darling". You had no strength in you. Was it the blood loss? He got out of the water. Stretched out his hand, and pulled you out, and you followed reluctantly. Then helped you dress. Undid what he had done to the bodice. As you stood there dazed, he reached out and firmly held your hand in his. It felt like a dream. He led you back. you felt you could follow him anywhere. And perhaps you were.

Following him to your ruin.

Part IX : I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

#astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #baldurs gate 3 #fanfic #fluff #vampire #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #smut #smut fanfiction #so hot 🔥🔥🔥#hot as fuck #hot and spicy

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honeyed-poet · 1 year

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Musings of a Digesting Poet

The End of the Honey Boy

written by Honeyedpoetprey

Art credit goes to Izumy and mementomori

WARNING: Implied willing fatal Vore and lots of digestion talk ahead

Wow, there I was adventuring along as always… seemed like any other day, and now here I am packed in a tummy just stewing and churning… I had a dream it would end this way.  From the satisfied belch up there… I’m glad you enjoyed me! The accommodations are very warm and wet and soft, with just enough dim reddish light to watch the fluids secrete and drip their way down through all the little folds and crevices. Kinda mesmerizing, and I intend to just relax and enjoy myself while it lasts. You can only get eaten once, after all.  As for what to do with the rest of our time together? Well, if you’re lonely, we can chat. Maybe find a nice wine to compliment what’s left of my flavour in your mouth. When you’re ready though, do go ahead and digest me all up. As much as I enjoy it in here, it would be greedy of me to keep filling this space in your belly when I’m sure there are many more who would like to follow. Speaking of, you can feel free to go ahead and burp up my phone when you’re done with me and use my contacts as a menu, if you wish.  If there’s anything I can do to make the afterglow of your meal more enjoyable before I become a nutritious human smoothie and a layer of pudge, do let me know, and if you should hiccup and feel a light, sweet taste of honey in your mouth, that’s just me saying hello. Or displacing air as I roll over to get more comfortable… either one of those.

What’s that? If I dreamed about this in advance… and that must make you the girl of my dreams? Huh, yes, I suppose that’s true. By all means do take it as a compliment! 

Might explain why the idea of being eaten always mingled with the erotic for me but.. bah. That would be a crass direction to take this lovely discourse. Speaking of which, I would be a poor and ungentlemanly one-time dinner host if I didn't also buy you a drink. I recommend a nice Merlot to pair with sweeter meats like myself.

If my jacket is still nearby, there should be ample cash in my wallet for you to nab a celebratorybottle while I'm still relatively solid and fresh on your palate. Moreover, I happen to quite like the scent, so melting away as it showers down over me just sounds heavenly.

Mmf! Oh my! Was that a possessive, proud pat I just felt? You naughty girl teasing me like that!

Hmmm, your strange pride in having me in your tummy and my strange contentment with my fate may well be a sign that this was just destiny and a fulfillment of my purpose…

Kind of mind boggling to think about, really. My family line going back hundreds of years (many of their obituaries more resembling food reviews) until finally, my parents produced me with the correct flavour profile and feel to just to go through life waiting until the moment you got to taste and feel this well-bred meal glide over your tongue and plop into a tummy made to fit it and squeeze and churn it just right.

l used to like to play games with predators (it was my way of reconciling my survival instinct with my strange attraction to being eaten). Give them hints as to my location, tease, them, and lead them on a merry chase before finally escaping and wishing them better luck next time…

Every narrow escape, every predator I left hungry without so much as a lick, and here, there was no such struggle. You saw me, decided I belonged in your belly, and gobbled me down. No more running, nothing complicated, I was caught, and it was time to fulfill my purpose as a delightful dinner.

And now, my survival instinct isn't screaming at me like it always did before. I'm here. And I'm content… even as I contemplate how much longer I have until I sink into the soupy slurry that will soon be forming beneath me.

Would make for a nice parody of a destined love story with a cliche title like "Love At First Bite", I'd consider writing it if it wasn't for….. Well you know, your tummy walls and stomach acids getting right to work on lovingly caressing and churning me into Cream-of-Me soup.

But perhaps that's why I'm okay with ending up in the belly of a uniquely talented writer and deep thinker like yourself. I may be ending, but rather than leaving my own legacy behind, by digesting inside you, nourishing you, contributing to your body, and energizing yourmind will make your future accomplishments, the dreams you will fulfill, in some small way an extension of myself. It's a nice consolation whether you forget me completely after I melt into more of you, or think back occasionally on that dinner conversation so long ago.

Personally, I hope I'm brain food (can't know for sure. I wasn't really born with an index of nutritional facts) so I can motivate your talented mind to produce yet more fantastic writing! After all the stories I've written… having she who ate me carry on writing long after I’m just her pudge sounds so fitting!

l apologize for rambling. Destiny, purpose, and legacy are heady chit-chat topics to have with someone you are currently digesting. (The acids are accumulating and rising quite nicely, more of a chest-deep hot tub than a sauna at this point).

I'll wriggle and squirm for a bit, and I do hope you enjoy the feel of my movements until my form rounds out into a bellyfull of pleasantly bubbling and groaning mush slowly being moved along and put to use. Hope your digestive system is efficient! I would hate for too much of me to go to waste.

Glad you found me delicious, hopefully you'll leave a five-star review for my relatives and failed predators to see, and don't feel too bad about me missing out on your future writings. It is a fitting end to just be part of your story... Whatever comes next that I miss once I'm offering a little padding beneath you upon your writing chair, I will always have my own little chapter. This moment just for me~

~GGGRRRRRGL CHRRRRN~

~Glorp Glorp~

~SCHLO00000Rpp~

*.blup.*

URRRRRRRRP~

"Oh! He DID taste like honey~ yummmm~"

And in that instant… the Honeyed Poet was gone…. and only a satisfied pred, looking forward to healthily digest the rest of him away remained.

~THE END~

#female pred #male prey #vore belly #fatal vore #vore digestion #same size vore #vore rp #giantess vore #vore writing #willing vore #oral vore #vore prey #vore pred

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notanotherreidgirl · 3 years

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Ruin Me

Summary: Spencer has been very needy and bratty so Reader teaches him a lesson

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, degradation, exhibitionism/public sex, ruined orgasm, mommy kink

Word Count: 1220

A/N: I combined this request with this one. This is part of the Mommy Kink Collection

You were gripping your wine glass in your hand so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. Saying you were mad was an understatement. Furious would be more accurate or maybe livid. Spencer would have a thesaurus full of descriptors for your current mood but if anyone asked you would settle for pissed.

You were absolutely pissed and it was taking everything in you not to grab Spencer and drag him out the door. But you were in Strauss’ home in heels with half the department milling about talking about recent cases and budget cuts so you plastered on a smile and did your best to make small talk. Spencer popped another hor d’oeuvre in his mouth and shot you a cheeky smile from across the room, turning back to the gaggle of female agents fawning over him.

He was trying to get back at you for denying him all day. He had been insatiable - constantly touching your arm, your waist, your hand. When you left the BAU he had slipped into the elevator behind you, pulling you in close enough to feel his prominent arousal. But you were resolute in your denial, pointing out that you were already running late and reminding him of how Hotch had reacted the last time you had skipped a departmental mixer.

But he wouldn’t stop. Trying to get in the shower with you, pawing at you while you got undressed, kissing you while you put on makeup (nearly ruining your eyeliner), and whining when you pulled his coat on and ushered him out the door. But Spencer, ever the magician, had a few tricks up his sleeve. As soon as you pulled in he produced his glasses from his jacket pocket, smirking a bit as he put them on and slid out the car. Those stupid, beautiful glasses that perfectly framed his doe eyes and turned your brain to mush. Strike 1

To make matters worse he stayed away from you for the entire party, suddenly becoming a social butterfly and talking up every impressionable agent in his vicinity. He regaled them with stories of cases, filled their drinks for them, stood much too close for comfort. He was even doing magic tricks for god’s sake!

Nonetheless you kept your cool, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a response. That was until one of them reached up and plucked his glasses from his face and put them on, striking a little pose and smiling up at him. His eyes darted over to you, knowing this was a step too far but he made no move to take them back. You held his gaze as you set your glass down and made your way to him. Despite his trepidation, you could make out the triumphant look in his eyes. The look that meant his plan had succeeded. Strike 2

You grabbed his arm harshly, pulling him to you and practically snatching the glasses from the poor agent’s face and tossing them in your purse. “I think Dr. Reid has forgotten something”

He stumbled a little. “Um I-I don’t think I forgot anything”

But you were already hauling him into an empty room and closing the door behind your back. “Really? Because it seems to me that you’ve forgotten who you belong to”

“And who’s fault is that?” he clamped his mouth shut as soon as he said it. Strike 3

You stalked forwards, forcing him to back up against a desk. “Watch yourself, baby. I will fuck that attitude right out of you”

You expected him to launch into one of his well-practiced apologies but he only bit his lip, holding your gaze. It seemed your boy was committed to being a brat tonight. You gave him a sly, indecipherable smile as your hand drifted downwards. He whined, desperate to relieve the tightness in his pants and the ragged sigh he let out when you freed him lit a fire in the pit of your stomach. “Is this what you want? For me to stroke your little cock with the Director of the FBI in the other room?”

“Y-yes, Mommy. I want you so much. Wanted you all day” he squeezed his eyes shut, barely stifling the soft moans slipping out from his throat. There was no trace of his earlier arrogance in his voice now, just the desperate pleas of an exceptionally disobedient little boy. His hips bucked into your hand in anticipation of his growing release but you withdrew your hand at the last moment. He let out a low whine as his orgasm was extinguished. “No, no, no. Mommy please. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to be bad. I promise I’ll never do it again just please let me cum”

You pretended to consider his offer, tilting your head to the side. “Hmmm, you promise?”

He nodded his head emphatically. “I promise, Mommy!”

You grasped him once again, collecting the precum that gathered at the head and spreading it down his length. He threw his head back, knowing that his release would be doubly powerful as a result of your earlier denial. You pumped him faster bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he started to tremble underneath you. Then without warning you pulled away.

For an agonizing second, Spencer thought he had been denied once again but then reflex took over. The electricity running down his spine petered out at the very end for an inadequate finish, leaving him deeply unsatisfied and feeling completely wrong. His cock spasmed pathetically, devoid of any stimulation, and a weak stream of thick cum leaked out. His mouth fell open soundlessly, a whimper caught in the back of his throat. He was still hard. If anything his erection demanded more attention than before but he didn’t dare touch it, knowing that he was much too sensitive.

“You said I could come” His voice was thick with emotion. A spark of pity ignited in your chest but you were quick to recall the image of Spencer flirting with those agents earlier, effectively squelching any possibility of mercy.

“And you did, didn’t you?” It wasn’t the same. You knew it wasn’t but you gestured to the cum on his boxers all the same. He wanted to protest further but he wasn’t willing to risk more punishment. Instead he watched wordlessly, wincing slightly as you tucked him into his pants and pulled him to his feet. He shifted uncomfortably, already feeling the cum soak his underwear and begin to run down his leg. He looked at you, face etched with worry. “Are we going home now?”

“Nope. Mommy’s got work to do.” Your earlier anger had prevented you from doing any networking but that wasn’t a problem anymore. You fished his glasses from your purse and slipped them back on his face. “Do you think you can be a good boy for me now?”

He glanced down at his pants and nervously twisted his hands together. His mind whirred, calculating how long it would take until his situation became noticeable while trying to deduce how long you were planning on making him walk around a house full of profilers and skilled FBI agents with his boxers full of cum. “Yes, I can be good”

“That’s what I like to hear”

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @rosienie @newyorkaqua @coldlilheart @spencerreider @newgirlinhell @ssa-natalya-reid @lauryn-need-help @spencerscumrag @gublerzwhore @beepbooptoop @stylesstreet @zoeygraygubler @deiondraaa @nct-nyny @optimisticcloudmoon @centiaaa @ifvckedurmom @6r4cie @dontcallmekittens @subbyspencereid @kuolonsyoja @goldengubler5 @reid-me-a-story @spencerreidsmommy @aharvey979 @reidsbookclub @lunajoyce3

Click here to join a taglist and here to tell me what you thought of this one!

#mommy kink collection #my beloved sub!spence #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #unsuitable for work

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Looking for a Place to Happen 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, hand job, loss of virginity

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hopefully I can work on part 5 now that I have this posted.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 4: With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees

💀💀💀

Sam left you in the same daze that fogged the entire day. The night was restless as you tossed and turned, replaying the scene over and over. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the lens staring back at you, imagined yourself on a screen, your hand moving between your legs, your pathetic mewls as you came for this man and who knew how many others.

Well, he did say it was up to you how big the audience was.

You woke early and only checked in with your nan to fill a mug with coffee and start your day ahead of time. You needed to keep yourself busy after a night bombarded by your own thoughts and yet, you couldn’t focus enough to do more than stare at the blinking cursor.

You put on a Twitch stream to keep your mind from wandering too far but it did little to help your focus. You fidgeted, still without your phone, and again thought of the previous day and what you’d done. You’d never done that in front of anyone. You only ever joked about it online, that persona was everything you weren’t irl.

All your stupid online jokes and exaggerations got you into this. You fucked up because the line between virtual and reality was too blurred in your head. You got carried away and now you just had to deal. Well, you guessed it was a lesson no one learned the easy way.

You didn’t realise how much time passed until your stomach growled loudly and squeezed. You felt like throwing up but only had the slice of toast you scarfed down that morning to coat your stomach. You rubbed your eyes and headed downstairs to sneak some of your nan’s sugarless jelly cookies. She hated your snacking but she rarely finished a box on her own.

As you entered through the kitchen, you came to a sudden halt. You tilted your head and frowned as you heard your nan’s voice and the one that answered had you knocking your hip against a chair as you rushed into the living room.

“Just over there,” she directed as the leg of the couch scraped on the floor, “slide it against the wall.”

Sam stood straight dusted off his hands on his jeans. He stepped back and looked over the old floral sofa.

“Definitely looks better over here,” he remarked.

“What the hell?” you blurted out.

“There you are!” your grandmother tutted, “I called up to you but you do what you always do and tune me out.”

“I didn’t-- I was working, I--” you cleared your throat and looked at Sam, “what are you doing here?”

“He’s being very helpful,” your nan praised, “how many times did I ask you to help me with this thing?”

“Sorry, I…” you swallowed and glanced between them.

“And smell that,” your nan inhaled deeply, “he’s making us dinner.”

“And I brought sugar-free dessert,” he added, “anything else I can do?”

“You’re so sweet,” she squeezed his thick arm.

“So are you… once you get past the frying pan,” he chuckled.

“I see a man in leather, I’m swinging,” she scowled, “you’re lucky you came bearing gifts.”

“Hey, look, we’re not all bad,” he smiled as she sat and he handed her the book from the small table that held the lamp and her ashtray, “I’m not like those guys who threatened your granddaughter.”

“And more honest than her,” she shook her head, “you didn’t tell me you were down at that bar. I warned you-- you really are lucky he was there.”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you squinted at them, “didn’t you just tell me the other day I should grab any biker by--”

“I’m old, I say things,” she laughed but her eyes had a glimmer of ‘be quiet’.

“Would you like some more tea, Millie?” he asked as he took her empty mug and neared you, stopping in the broad archway that opened up into the living room.

“One more, if you don’t mind,” she smiled sweetly. She never smiled.

You hid a scowl and turned to follow Sam into the kitchen. He moved the kettle onto a burner and turned the knob. He stopped and opened the door of the stove and peeked inside as a blaze of savoury hot air blasted out at him. You felt it just before he let it snap shut and turned to lean on the counter, crossing one foot over the other.

“What are you doing?” you uttered.

“I told you I’d be back,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d--” you lowered your voice and glanced at the doorway, “what have you been telling her?”

“Everything she wants to hear,” he ran his fingertips along the precise line of hair of his goatee, “and nothing she shouldn’t… but that can change.”

“I did what you wanted. End of punishment,” you put your hands on your hips.

“End? Hmmm, I don’t think I said that,” his forehead wrinkled, “we’re far from finished… and come on, we both know you had as much fun as me.”

Your nostrils flared and you sucked in your cheeks. He was entirely too hard to figure out. He was that sort of man you hated and feared all at once. You just couldn’t predict him.

“I don’t… I don’t care what happens to me, just don’t hurt her,” you said quietly.

“Hurt her? Now why would I do that?” he taunted, “I mean, right now I have no reason to do anything like that.”

You squirmed and let out a breath, “please, alright?”

“Settle down, honey, you’ve been good… so far,” he said, “you just gotta keep it up.”

“Yeah,” you grumbled as the kettle began to shake and he turned his back to you, “any chance I can have my phone back?”

He chuckled as he searched the cupboard for the tea and plucked out a bag, “you’re funny… I like that but you gotta stop acting like everything’s a joke. It doesn’t hold up.”

💀

You found it hard not to wear a look of unamused confusion as Sam served dinner at the table and your grandmother sang his praises as he poured her wine she could actually drink. Just one glass but it was enough to loosen her up. You hadn’t eaten in the dining room since you were a kid, more used to eating at the counter, sitting on the wobbly stools or in front of the television.

Sam offered for you to clean up and do the dishes. Your nan was overjoyed at that, almost mocking. When you finished, you found them in the living room, some old Robert DeNiro movie on the television. You sat on the couch, as far from Sam as you as your grandmother yawned into her hand.

“Well,” she stubbed out her cigarette, “I should really be getting to bed. That wine is kicking in.”

“It’s early…” you argued weakly.

“You kids don’t get into too much trouble,” she warned as she stood with a groan and gripped her hip, “these ears still work.”

“Trouble? Me?” Sam kidded, “you don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t been a kid in a very long time.”

She smiled and nodded but for a moment she hesitated. She looked at you and pushed her tongue to her denture.

“Good night, girlie,” she said.

“Night, nan,” you forced out as normally as you could.

You knew if she sensed your fear, she’d act out. She was always too brave for her own good and while you admired that, you didn’t need to get hurt because you were dumb as a brick.

She left slowly and you heard her television begin to crackle and the voices of the Law and Order actors were muffled behind her door. You hunched your shoulders and rubbed your hands together as you stared at Deniro’s wrinkled forehead and that characteristic squint.

The lamp went out as Sam pulled the cord and the screen glowed in the dark. You felt the cushion dip as he shifted closer without subtlety. He slung his arm over your shoulder and you smelled his earthy cologne as he turned the TV up a few ticks. He pulled you to him as his hand came up to cradle your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we go… somewhere else?”

“She won’t hear us honey,” he cooed, “you just gotta be good. Be quiet.”

“Let’s go upstairs. Please,” you grabbed his hand as you pleaded.

“You keep arguing and I’ll make sure to wake her up,” he warned, “now,” he twisted so that he had your wrist in his grasp and forced it down to his lap, “put your hand down my pants.”

You gulped loudly and your hand trembled. You read enough fanfic to know what to do but your lack of actual experience had you nervous. Much like many things in your life. All talk, no skill.

You turned awkwardly on the cushion, your body uncomfortably contorted as his legs stayed pressed to yours. You struggled to unhook the button of his fly and the zipper was slow to descend. You felt the bulge as your hands moved against the denim and you hesitated as your fingers pressed to the elastic of his briefs.

“Mmm,” he purred as he hugged you closer, “that’s it, honey.”

Your eyes widened and you were happy the room was dark enough to hide your face. You pulled the elastic back with two fingers and shoved your other hand blindly beneath the fabric. You brushed against his hard dick and angled your hand so that you could grip him, his smooth length felt peculiar against your palm. Was he big? He felt big but didn’t have anyone to compare him to.

“Tighter,” he groaned at the friction as you moved your hand.

You squeezed and his hot breath grazed over your hair and he pushed his head back over the couch. He twitched as you kept a steady motion, trapped in the limbo of mortification and cluelessness. Were you doing it right? What were you even doing?

“Ah, honey, you’re so good,” he said as he rubbed the back of your neck, “goddamn.”

You said nothing as you focused on your hand. He snaked his arm under yours suddenly and pulled you over as he lifted his ass. Your hand was caught in his under as he laid you down beneath him. He reached down and fixed your grip on him as he held hovered atop you, his knees pressed into the cushion between your legs.

His arm crossed under yours as he poked along your jeans and shoved his hand beneath the denim and cotton. His palm was flush to your pelvis as he slid two fingers along your folds, held snug to you by the fabric. He swirled his fingertips over your bud and you gasped as your other hand gripped his arm in surprise.

“Honey, you’re wet already,” he whispered, “you sure you haven’t been waiting for this?”

You moaned as he pushed back along your entrance and dragged his fingers back, spreading your wetness over your clit. You quivered as you struggled to keep your own hand moving. He inhaled and groaned as played with you and pressed his lips to your cheek. He trailed up to your lips and kissed you, forcing his tongue inside as he shuddered.

He drew away with a sloppy noise and withdrew his hand from your pants. He sat up on his knees and pulled your legs to rest against his torso. He gripped the back of your jeans and yanked them down along with your panties. You smothered your cry as you were shocked by the force of it and the air of the room on your bare ass and legs.

He let your jeans dangle from one ankle as he bent over you again. Your leg fell over the edge of the couch as he held himself over you with a hand just above your head, fingers tight on the cushioned arm. He wiggled as he shimmied his jeans and briefs down with his other hand and you pressed on his chest.

“Wait, wait,” you hissed, “you… please, just… slow down… I never--”

“Shh, honey, you’re making too much noise,” he muttered, “it’s okay.”

“No, no, please, can’t we--” your voice caught as he lined his tips up along your cunt and rubbed it along your clit, “I’ll… I’ll use my mouth.”

“Later,” he whispered as his tip slipped down along your entrance, “honey, I need to feel you.”

“Pl--” your voice evaporated as the head of his dick stretched you.

You whimpered as he brought his arm down and nestled it under your head. He pushed further in and you gritted your teeth as you whined at the pressure of his intrusion. With each inch, the strain grew worse as a deep pain flooded your body. He shushed you as he forced past your resistance.

He covered your mouth as you cried out and barely kept your voice under control. He kept your head on his arm as his other hand cupped your lips and smothered out your agony. He forced himself in as deep as he could and your body tensed as your walls squeezed him. Your eyes rolled back as tears welled and spilled over the corners.

“Honey, it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” he coaxed, “just like that.”

He rocked his hips carefully but it still felt terrible. He pulled back and slid back in, each time it felt like he got even deeper than the last. His breath hitched and your own grew laboured as you huffed through your nostrils.

He growled and sped up, just a little at a time, your cunt slickening his intrusion as his pelvis brushed against your clit and sent tendrils down your thighs. Even so, the pleasure was not enough to mute the pain.

“That’s it,” he uttered, “that’s it.”

He fucked you faster and the couch shook beneath you. His flesh slapped and the noise seemed to be monstrous, so much sure that you were sure your grandmother would come out and catch you.

You grasped his wrist as you felt your climax rising. You squeezed and arched your foot as you were overcome and crashed down harshly as the pain tore through the ecstasy once more. He turned his hand and framed your chin as he kissed you again, swallowing your murmurs as he thrust into you over and over.

He lifted his head and dipped his thumb into your mouth as he held in his voice. He quaked and his motion stuttered but kept on. You felt his release, hot and wet, inside of you, a strange sensation that made you both sickened and aroused you.

He eased up and stilled at last. He brushed his nose against yours and chuckled under his breath as he wiggled his hips and you swore at the way it made your walls squeeze him. You blinked as your vision cleared of tears and the darkness. His features were blue with the light of the television, sinister and shadowy.

You went limp under him and breathed out slowly. You shook as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip and left a line of spit down your jaw.

“We’ll have to get that on tape next time,” he said, “but I doubt you’ll forget that, honey.”

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

More Than Today (Richard Winters x Reader)

So this has been in my wips for MONTHS. But here we are! I know its also been a hot minute since I’ve written any BOB fics. Sorry, friends. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: a couple swear words (thanks Nixon)

Words: 2750

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m @saritanotserena

Paris.

City of Light.

City of Love.

Dick Winters just wished the soldier behind him would stop bumping his chair as he laughed at another dirty joke.

It had not been his idea to be here. Apparently Sink thought he needed a break. Nixon and Welsh ganged up on him, practically forcing him to pack his bag and get on the train.

Now that he was here though….it was nice.

He would never admit how many steaming, hot baths he had taken since finding his hotel room. Plus, sleeping in a real, soft bed- his bones sang with joy at the reprieve from the hard, army cot it had been subjected to for years now.

Tomorrow morning he was supposed to be leaving. His last 24 hours in Paris. Truthfully, he had done nothing, just rest. Both physically and mentally. He knew if he returned without having visited some kind of touristy place, both Nixon and Welsh would be furious. Though, he would have to have a conversation with Nix. It was not until Dick started unpacking that he found the box of condoms Nix must have slipped into his bag when he was not looking.

Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the man. Even that thought made him smile. Somehow him and Nix, they just clicked. Completely polar opposites but maybe that was what allowed their friendship to take root and grow.

The soldier behind Dick laughed loudly, rocking his chair back with the movement and knocking into Dick once again. He grimaced, just saving himself from spilling coffee onto his Class A uniform. He knew he outrank the man behind him and all his friends, he could easily say something…. but that seemed like a battle not worth fighting.

He quickly finished his small cup of coffee, relishing the actual bitter taste of the drink verse the watery stuff the army supplied. Standing up, he pulled out the change from his pocket, ready to leave a tip for the nice waitress.

"There you are!" A feminine voice called out with a distinctly British accent.

Dick lifted his head, knowing she was not talking to him but still curious. But then the strangest thing happened. He looked up and met her eyes as she walked past the few other tables. A blinding smile lit up her face and he felt his heartbeat stutter at how beautiful it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others sitting around watching her with interest but her eyes remained solely focused on him.

When she came to his side, she gently placed a hand on his forearm and lifted up slightly on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry I am late, love. I lost track of time. Do we still have time for a cup or shall we go?" She easily asked, as she slid down into the extra chair at the table.

He stood frozen for a moment, his mind questioning everything that just happened. Thankfully, his body went on autopilot and he sat back down in his chair. "Uh…. it’s fine."

"Lovely!" She beamed, waving a hand to get the attention of the waitress.

As he stared at her, his mind finally seemed to feel the tension hidden just below the surface of her overly-sunny disposition. Her hands laid in her lap, a white-knuckle grip on her small purse though. A friendly smile remained on her face but her eyes kept shifting warily over to the other side of the street, like prey keeping a predator in its peripheral.

Confused and now concerned, he peered over to where her eyes kept shooting. Two men stood across the street watching her with sullen expressions. Their uniforms informed him they were US army, the chevrons on their sleeves stated they were both sergeants.

Dick turned back to her and lowered his voice, even though he guessed over the noise of those around him, the men would not hear. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Wait." She said sharply, even though her smile never faltered. Then the waitress approached and the woman ordered a cup of tea with enthusiasm. Dick found himself ordering another cup of coffee per her insistence.

Finally, the waitress walked away, having had a brief conversation about the lovely color of lipstick she wore with the woman across from him after taking their orders.

It was then the woman peeked across the street once more. Whatever she saw, Dick watched the tension ease out of her. He glanced over to see the two men making their way back down the street.

"Bloody hell." She muttered, dropping her face in her hands.

"Are you alright? Were those men bothering you?"

"Mmm? Oh, no, well yes. They kept following me even after I told them I was meeting my fiancé. I am so terribly sorry I dragged you into this, it was either find someone to pretend to be my fiancé or find an alley nearby and stab them. I quite like this dress and would prefer not to get blood on it today."

He just stared at her, unsure how to take her answer. He would have thought it was a joke but with the way she casually answered, as if stating the sky was blue, he assumed she was serious. "Um, right." He coughed, not quite sure where to take the conversation from there. Luckily, she seemed to notice.

"Is there somewhere you need to go? I truly am sorry for holding you up. I'll pay for your coffee when the waitress returns, it's the least I can do. Don't feel like you have to stay here just for me."

"No, no. It's alright, ma'am. I was just…." His voice trailed off.

She smiled softly at him, folding her hands in her lap. "Are you stationed here in Paris?"

At that moment, the waitress returned with their ordered drinks.

"No." He answered her prior question, watching her take a sip from her cup. His own cup sat between his hands but he felt no need to drink it yet. "My CO demanded I take a 72-hour pass."

"Mmm….so you are one of those?" She laughed lightly at the look of confusion on his expressive face. "A CO who actually cares about his men, focuses on making sure they are taken care of, instead of spending time with the other officers wasting all his money on booze and women."

"Um…." He could feel a warmth spreading over his face. Hoping to hide it, he brought his cup to his lips and took a sip.

"It's alright, sir. We need more officers like you in this damn war. What's your name?"

That he could easily answer. "Lieutenant Dick Winters, Easy Company, 506th, Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters. I'm y/n y/l/n. So Airbourne, hmmm? I've heard about you. Tell me about your training."

And somehow Dick found himself telling her about Currahee, about the jumps at Mackall, the field drills in Upottery, even laughing about Sobel's antics with her.

Eventually, their cups ran dry.

"Where are you off to now?" She asked pleasantly.

Dick answered honestly, feeling relaxed in her presence. "I'm not sure."

"Well, it so happens I was on my way to visit the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure."

Dick insisted on paying for both of their drinks, claiming his mother would read him the riot act if he allowed a woman to pay for her own. As they walked away from the cafe, she slipped her arm through his like they had done it a million times. Instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable at the unexpected physical touch, he found himself smiling down at her.

What started off as a day without any intended plan, just enjoying not being on the front line or behind a desk writing reports, became one of the most enjoyable days of his life. After the Cathedral, they wandered along the Seine, stopping at any shop or attraction that caught their eye. She regaled him with different facts or histories of places they saw and other locations in Paris. Before the war, she had spent some time in Paris and now, having returned as a translator, she felt it was even more important to remember those things that the Nazis tried so hard to destroy.

Soon conversations turned to their own experiences at home, his in Pennsylvania and hers in London. The more they talked, the more he found himself attracted to her beyond the physical. She was a breath of fresh air amongst the smog of war. A ray of sunshine to remind him that above the dark clouds of War, the sun still resided. But even if the day was spent in laughter and companionship, a war still brewed outside. A painful reminder to what Dick's priorities should be. So, he promised himself that he would enjoy her company now, but once he left Paris, he would put her out of his mind. His men and the war came first.

As night settled over the city, they walked side by side back to her hotel. It was not too far from his own, thus he refused to listen to her protests and told her he would escort her back for her own safety.

"Well, this is me." She stopped in front of the lovely hotel. "Thank you for escorting me."

"It's the least I can do. You spent the whole day being my tour guide."

"That sounds dreadfully boring. But you'll have stories to share with that Nixon friend of yours. Though he may be more impressed if you bring him back a vintage bottle of wine."

"No, he only drinks Vat 69. Lord knows where the man keeps finding the stuff."

"Besides your footlocker?"

"Yeah, besides that." He chuckled at her jest and the mischievous smile on her face. As they stood there, smiling at one another, he found himself wishing they had more time. That perhaps he had met her before or after the war and had been able to court her properly. For now though, he would cherish their time together. "Thank you for today."

Her smile held a hint of sadness in it, as if she lamented their separation just as much as he did. "I pray our paths will cross again."

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Dick."

He stepped back, lingering a moment longer to gaze at her. After, he turned and started to walk away. The hour was late and they both needed to sleep. It was less than 8 hours until his train was to depart in the morning and he knew it would be wise to enjoy his soft bed one more time before returning to a hard, army cot.

"Dick!"

He spun around, surprised to see her walking towards him, her heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk.

"Is everything alright?"

Without acknowledging his question, she pressed her lips to his in an eager kiss. Dick liked to consider himself a gentleman, never to take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. In this moment though, as all thoughts fled under her touch, his body reacted on instinct. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him while their lips parted, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, tasting like the wine she sipped on at dinner, her hands tightly gripping the lapels of his uniform. Heat coursed through his body as their tongues tangled together. He felt hypnotized, unable to pull away, to maintain propriety. Nor did he want too. She nipped at his bottom lip and his knees almost buckled underneath him. This moment was pleasure and fire, something he never experienced before….and something he wanted to revisit over and over with her.

After only a second and eternity combined, they both pulled back with swollen lips and breathless. Rising on her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, a single flame compared to the bonfire they just lavished themselves in. Swiftly, she stepped back, running her hands over her dress.

"Goodnight…. don’t tell Nixon about this."

He nodded, almost shyly, mind still reeling from their shared passion. "Yes, ma'am."

With a playful, flirty wink, she twirled around and headed back towards her hotel, her heels clicking loudly on the ground.

Dick watched her walk away, lips still tingling and residual flames teasing his nerves. His eyes traced over her form, hoping to memorize it, to be able to always savor this moment. Looking up to the heavens, he silently prayed that one day, their paths would cross, one day he could perhaps pursue her, one day he could feel her lips against his again.

*****

"So, you still haven't said much about your time in Paris." Nixon prodded, sipping from his canteen that certainly was not water. The intelligence officer had been relentlessly interrogating his friend about his pass for the past week.

Dick rolled his eyes, not even glancing over. "Not much to say, Nix."

"You had to have done something! Come on! It's Paris!"

"I saw the Notre-Dame."

"Hey, that's something. Stop pressing him, Nix." Welsh butted in with his typical lazy grin. He reclined in the extra chair next to Nixon. "He did return the condoms."

"For Pete's sake." Dick muttered as he listened to the two men laugh. He stood looking out the window of his office, overlooking Easy Company below being drilled by Lieutenant Dike. Again. There was something to be said about being prepared but this went beyond that.

"Harry, how long have they been out there now?" He asked, not removing his gaze from his men.

Welsh sighed, glancing at the clock. "About two hours now."

"Right, come on. Let's go relieve them."

The other two scrambled to their feet, following Dick out of his office and down through the labyrinth of the HQ building. Lieutenant Dike had come with high expectations but the more Dick watched the man, the more worried he became.

"You're too soft on them." Nixon teased, trailing behind him.

Dick gave a quick salute to some officers they passed, never missing a step as he responded. "They aren't learning anything by marching back and forth out there besides ways to murder their CO."

"Was that a joke? Holy fuck. Did you hear that, Harry? Dick made a joke! Paris changed you."

"I heard. Still in shock." Welsh deadpanned.

Dick sighed good-naturedly as they stepped outside the building. Slipping his cap on, he started in the direction of his newest Lieutenant. The footsteps of his companions falling in step behind him.

"Dick!"

His feet screeched to a halt. He knew that voice. Whipping around, he was greeted by the sight of her. Someone he thought he would never truly see again. A beautiful, blinding smile on her face as she hurried towards him. His heart rapidly pounded within his chest, giving away his shock and joy at seeing her.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He could not help sweeping his eyes over her, surprised to see her in a WAC uniform. Though it did nothing to diminish her beauty.

"I was asked to be a translator and help with deciphering coded messages." She answered casually as if she had not just revolutionized his world. Standing in front of him, she motioned to the army camp around them. "Is this where you are stationed?"

"Yeah, yeah, it is."

"Oh, that's lovely. We'll be able to see each other again. I am late for a meeting otherwise I'd love to chat. Could I see you tomorrow for a cuppa?"

"Um, sure. Yes."

"Perfect. I'll find you in the afternoon." She raised up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing his mind to short-circuit. "It's good seeing you, Dick."

With that she spun on her heel and sashayed away, leaving all three men standing there shocked.

"Who was that?" Nixon demanded, gaze never leaving her retreating form.

"Y/n…. I met her in Paris."

Nixon smacked him on the arm. "You bastard, you said nothing happened there."

"Nothing happened." Dick tried to defend, even if the excuse sounded weak in his own ears. Besides, for him, something certainly did happen.

"Probably should have kept those condoms, Dick." Welsh said, clapping him on the shoulder with a chuckle.

And for a brief moment, Dick wondered if he was right.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #richard winters #dick winters #richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon #harry welsh #mzwrites

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

Text

Protect The Queen Pt.1 (Geralt x Reader)

This is just becoming addictive at this point, I love writing about this cause there are so many different scenarios and possibilities you could write about. Also there might be a part two for this so please let me know if you would be interested in it. Enjoy!

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, it was almost time for her to take her future in her own hands, to rise to the occasion and take back her life. Her gaze fell to the ring she was wearing, it was passed on to her when she married the king of Orkney, she barely had taken a step into womanhood at the time her parents announced her marriage to her, such a shame that she spend such youthful years in a castle with a man that didn't even think about her, it was pure and also embarrassing for (y/n) to look back at her naive and selfless younger self.

“Oh, you are awake”

“I was waiting for you my dear”

She answered to her husband, her voice dripping honey for the first time in years. Their marriage was far from happy, (Y/n) had thought since she was to become his wife he would treat her with kindness, unfortunately that was not the case, he saw her just as a vessel for his children, when that seemed to not happen he fell to the arms of concubines and commoners, making her become this cold, distant wife he deserved. Sometimes she would wonder if maybe she had given him the heir he craved that maybe his behavior would change, that however was crushed by gratefulness she felt for her womb for not bring a child in this loveless household. She would have never forgiven herself if she raised a child that did not see their parents share at least one hug.

“What’s the cause of you lingering in our room (y/n)?”

“To celebrate, here my king”

She offered him the glass of wine she was holding on her left hand, it was filled with his favorite wine. Her husband took it and gave her a puzzled look, whenever he would sleep in the same room with her- which wasn’t often- he would find her asleep.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday dear”

He was left confused at her smile and statement. It couldn’t be, they held a public celebration for her birthday every year, it was protocol for the queen to allow the public in the castle for her special day. The clink of the glasses echoed around the room, she brought the glass to her lips and took a light sip

“Come on dear, drink up. You were never one to shy away from a glass of wine”

She pushed the glass from the bottom up to his lips. He did not understand the cause of all this, yet whatever the case was she was right, the moment he tasted the delicious wine he took three gulps and the glass went from full to half empty.

“Excellent, I’m glad you enjoyed the wine my king, careful,.. the choking will probably start any minute now”

“My queen, we have been waiting for you to... rise for so long”

“Perfection takes time”

She answered to her most trusted confident,her coronation was something that would remain in history for centuries, she was adored by the public so when she inherited the crown after her last husband, everyone knew they were in safe hands. That does not mean the rumors did not arise to the situation, the late king was a healthy young man, it was very suspicious how he fell to darkness overnight.

She meant what she told him when she mentioned her birthday, that day she shed away her foolish acts and was reborn, a woman that stood strong in the field of womanhood, ready to take what’s hers whether people liked it or not.

She looked around the room, seeing her people enjoy their night and drink to her name felt so natural to her, she was meant to lead.

“Excuse me just for a moment, I want to get closer to my people”

“As you wish my queen”

As she started going around at a slow pace she did her best to observe her people, they seemed to enjoy themselves, they acted like the king never existed, like the soil on top of him had been thrown decades ago, she smiled at herself while thinking that she acted in a way her people wanted, pleasing them and herself with just a few drops of that special liquid.

It was then that she noticed the back of a tall man, his long white hair and his armor stood out from the others, she also took note that he was accompanied by a much smaller and probably younger man that was holding a lute. It couldn’t be? The infamous white wolf and his barb at her coronation?

“What are we doing here Jaskier?”

“Celebrating the queen officially getting the crown after her husbands oh so sudden death”

Jaskier was fascinated by her history, a princess known for her noble nature and beauty, he reminisced of the song he had heard about her, she was the master of horses, the late king had met her when she rode the most stubborn and difficult horse in the royal stable, married to the king at her prime and failing at giving him an heir.

He was surprised she got to kill him first before the late king did, not only that but she is now the one sitting on the thrown after the kings death under some suspicious circumstances.

“sudden death? hmm, I believe the king found out that his destiny was a woman in a harsh way”

“Every mans destiny is a woman.... Witcher”

As he heard the voice from behind him he turned around to see to whom it belonged to. Jaskier’s mouth formed a big “O” when he was met with the queen, Geralt figured out who she was by the crown sitting on her head. The first thing she noticed was his yellow eyes, she found them so captivating, unique, she had never seen a witcher from up close, it was also just her luck that brought her the most handsome one.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, he was at her celebration, talking badly about the queen herself, he knew the consequences he just didn’t know if the queen would choose torture or immediate death as the penalty

“Queen (y/n), my apologies, Geralt has had a bit too much to drink, please spare him”

Jaskier might be a bit overly giddy at the wrong time, however that did not mean that what Geralt ha implied could make the queen want his head right then and there. As Jaskier bowed at her, she only let a small smile appear on her lips, softening her features towards the men that both looked distressed, she had to admire that she felt a bit of pride of making the witcher eat his words, judging by his reputation that did not happen every day.

“It’s alright, I know what the people are saying about me, it’s understandable”

“Understandable? Shouldn’t the queen rush to protect her reputation?”

“That’s what kings do when they feel their ego getting bruised, look around you Geralt, what do you see? The same people that have spread those accusations are dancing and yelling “long live the queen”, if anything my new found reputation is more promising”

Geralt was immediately interested, it wasn’t often that a queen would be alright with rumors and of such kind being passed around, as well as taking it as an advantage and being pleased about it.

“Elaborate please”

“The kings of other towns will hear those rumors, now who would dare come and threaten the woman that killed her own husband for power? Only a mad man would risk coming to my home”

She was smart, cunning. Geralt had met people of royalty and understood exactly what she meant when she talked about fragile egos. On the contrary, she stood tall and proud, took advantage of the people that gave her a new source of power without them even knowing it. The essence of her as a human being could only be described as being royal, a woman of luxury that men would probably kill for just a glimpse of her naked skin

It only made him question the late king, how could he have wronged such a woman? was maybe her standards that were two high? or was it an act of revenge? Geralt felt the need to puff out his chest as an act of bravery, she was a quite tall woman and if you match that with the way she carried herself, it was a death mix, the late king was already one of the victims of it

“You mean that you are going to become other kings destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny, what destiny is varies depending on the people you ask, for my parents my destiny was to become an obedient queen and give birth to the heir, a child that shared the same blood with my late husband”

She said mildly disgusted, as a widower she would probably have to grieve, linger in her room and cry behind close doors at the loss of her love. It seems like nobody even noticed how she did none of that, like it was normal for her to through a celebration a few weeks after his death in her name, not only that but the people seemed to love it. Geralt gave her a smirk at her smart and a bit intriguing answer.

“Then what do you think is your destiny”

“To be in charge of my and my peoples future, destiny and fate are nothing in front of the power of a woman”

The way she talked about destiny showed how she truly embodied confidence and stability, she feared nothing, not even her future self, she only relied on her power. As she talked to him he couldn’t help but let his eyes look mostly towards her lips, her painted lips that moved in such hypnotic way, he felt compelled by her.

Jaskier just stood there watching the two people talk like they are long lost friends. The queen so many people felt uneasy just by her presence was now having a casual conversation with the witcher. Geralt was slowly but surely gaining respect for her, she was a woman of power, a woman that used her brain and situations to her advantages and held herself accountable for her future, she was a true queen.

Geralt smiled at her genuinely, he had met her late husband in the past, he recalled him being stubborn and stuck up, raising his nose at others that he thought were less than him. If he was alive there was no way he would find him walking around commoners

“hmmm, Well queen (y/n), I am sure your people will be safe with you leading this land”

“I hope that in the future I can count on you for aid”

“About what?”

“Danger of course”

She took one step closer to him, still keeping eye contact with Geralt. As he took in a deep breath he could smell the scent of lavender off of her, her hair shined underneath the light of the flames and her eyes glistered with confidence and pride, she was the definition of strength, just her look brought Geralt into defense mode, waiting for her words and thinking how should he respond correctly to her before she even opened her mouth.

The skill of demanding attention and respect so silently was one that the very few of people that did had it were considered blessed, even though he was aware of that skill, still he had yet to meet one... until he met her.

“Loneliness can be an awfully dangerous thing”

She whispered just loud enough for only him to hear, as the other villagers laughed and sang around them, not even noticing that their queen was standing a few inches away from them, as well as being promiscuous to a witcher.

“I would be honored to protect the queen”

“I’m glad you feel that way, I’m sure you could be a great ally for me, geralt of rivia”

PART 2

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digitalstowaway · 3 years

Text

I will not be accepting questions such as “How old is this baby?” Here’s my contribution to the Gavinners rpf potluck

It was an ordinary day for the Gavinners. Almost.

“Great practice today, guys!” Klavier said, tossing his long hair that was in a simple ponytail over his shoulder. “We should be able to get this album done soon.”

Daryan pulled off his guitar. “It’ll be our best album yet.”

They put down their instruments and began walking to lunch together. Klavier stopped all of them when he heard faint crying coming from outside.

“What’s that?” he asked.

He pushed open the emergency exit. Laying on the concrete was a baby wrapped in a blue blanket.

“A baby!” Klavier gasped.

He picked it up.

Daryan wrinkled his nose at it. “Get it somewhere else.”

“But where?” Klavier asked. “It doesn’t have any parents.”

“Does it have a tag?” Bongo asked.

Klavier pulled down its blanket. “No.”

“Can we take it to the police?” Bongo asked.

They looked at Daryan who rolled his eyes and took the baby in one hand. “Fine. I’ll take the stupid brat down to the station.”

He stormed off, baby under his arm.

“What’s his deal?” Bongo asked.

Klavier knew that something had to be up. Something deeper.

—

Daryan showed back up at the recording studio after lunch with the baby. It was still crying. He shoved it at Klavier. Klavier gently cradled it and it stopped crying immediately.

“The police won’t take him,” Daryan said.

“Why not?” Bongo asked.

“The parents died.”

“Oh.”

Klavier felt bad for the baby. So little and already without parents. An idea hit him.

“We’ll just have to be his parents!” he said.

“What?” Joe shrieked.

“We’ll raise him. He’ll go on tour with us, and we’ll teach him how to play guitar and sing.”

“Why can’t we teach him how to play keyboard?” Joe mumbled.

“Because no one cares about the keyboard,” Klavier said.

“Yeah,” the rest of the guys cheered.

“People care about keyboard! It’s the most important part of the band!” Joe stormed off.

“Well, what do we do about the baby? None of us know how to be parents,” Bongo said.

Klavier stood on top of an amp to give his dramatic speech. “All you need to do to be a good parent is love your child. Nothing else is that important. And I love our child.”

“I love our child, too,” Bongo said.

“Me three,” said Ricky.

Daryan stormed off again. Klavier watched him walk away.

“What should we name him?” Bongo asked.

“Hmmm… What about Obsidian?” Klavier suggested.

“That’s so cool!” Ricky said.

“Yeah,” Bongo agreed. “That is so cool.”

—

Klavier’s doorbell rang at 2 am. He tied his hair into a messy bun and grabbed Obsidian before trotting down the stairs of his mansion.

Daryan stood outside his door, wet. “Can I come in?”

Klavier let him in and gave him dry clothes to wear. He thought that Daryan looked very handsome in his clothes.

“I’m sorry I was angry earlier,” Daryan said, holding himself.

“It’s okay,” said Klavier.

He bounced Obsidian in his arms until he started crying. Daryan took him. He stopped crying.

“Why were you angry earlier?” Klavier asked.

Daryan looked into the black eyes of Obsidian. “It was hard to see you with a baby.”

“What do you mean, Daryan?”

Daryan sighed. “I like you, Klavier. I like like you. And I didn’t want to see you with someone else’s baby. But now that it’s our baby, it’s okay.”

“Oh.”

Klavier blushed. He liked Daryan, too. He liked having a baby with Daryan too.

“I like you, too, Daryan.”

“Good, Klavier.”

Daryan took Klavier in his arms. They kissed passionately for an hour before they went to bed. Klavier had never felt so nice before.

The next morning they woke up in the same bed and took Obsidian to the recording studio. Kristoph was waiting for them (AN: Kristoph is Klavier’s IRL brother, and if you didn’t know that already then you’re a poser!)

He crossed his arms. “Klavier, what are you doing?” he asked.

“We decided to adopt a baby we found outside. And Daryan andI are dating now.”

“You’re dating Daryan?” Kristoph said. “What about the girlfriend I got for you? You were supposed to marry her.”

“I didn’t like her,” Klavier yelled. “She was a bitch. And I’m gay. So get over it.”

Kristoph gasped and stormed out.

Two days later Klavier saw Kristoph again when they met for lunch at an expensive restaurant. Kristoph frowned at Obsidian, but Klavier ignored it. He sat his baby in a high chair and brushed his black hair out of his eyes.

“They don’t usually let babies here,” Kristoph said. “But I asked them to make an exception for you. Apparently, the owner is a big fan of yours.”

“Who isn’t?” Klavier asked with a shrug.

“And I knew you weren’t going to leave that brat at home.”

Klavier crossed his arms. He saw red. How could Kristoph be so mean to a little baby? (AN: I do NOT think Kristoph is a mean person irl he’s probably just as sweet ad Klavier!! But this is for the plot kay?)

“His name is Obsidian.”

“Obsidian. Fine.”

“If you’re not going to be kind to your nephew, then I don’t want you around him.”

Kristoph sighed. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“I’d like to see him more—”

“Oh, Kristoph!”

“I want to send him to a school where he’ll be away from your bad influences.”

“My ‘bad’ influences?”

“Babies shouldn’t be raised on tour buses. What are you going to do with a baby when you’re playing on stage?”

Klavier hadn’t thought about that. “We’ll hire a nanny.”

“What if he wants to go outside and play but you’re on the highway?”

“You can play inside a tour bus!”

“He’d be better off with me.”

“No!”

“Klavier, listen to yourself. You know nothing about kids. And your… boyfriend doesn’t either. What will become of this child if you let him grow up in a band?”

Klavier didn’t answer. He threw a couple hundred dollar bills on the table for the glass of wine he didn’t drink and took Obsidian, strapping him back into his stroller.

“Don’t talk to me ever again, Kristoph.”

And he left his big brother there, alone with only the complimentary breadsticks to keep him company.

—

A month later, the Gavinners were on their tour bus when a Nissan swerved in front of them and caused them to fly off the road. The bus tipped onto its side in the grass.

Klavier had been in the middle of playing a lullaby for Obsidian. But now he was pinned underneath the bus’s dining table, blood oozing into his eyes. He could hear Daryan yelling, but his vision was blurry. Everything hurt.

He could barely see Obsidian sitting in front of him, crying and reaching out for him.

Then, the world went black.

Klavier woke up three days later in a hospital bed with bandages over his bare chest. He blinked awake and looked to his side.

Kristoph sat next to his bed, cradling Obsidian in his arms.

“Kris—” Klavier began coughing.

Kristoph held water to his lips and encouraged him to take small sips.

“Is Obsidian okay?” Klavier asked.

“He’s fine. I’ve been… taking care of him.”

“Oh.”

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Isn’t he?”

Klavier tried sitting up. Kristoph pushed him back down. “You need to rest.”

“Can I at least hold Obsidian?”

Kristoph laid Obsidian in Klavier’s arms. He slept in his bundle of expensive blankets that Kristoph must have bought for him.

“Were you good for your Uncle Kristoph?” Klavier asked, pressing down on the little button nose. Klavier frowned. “Does this mean you’re going to take him away to a school? Because raising a child on a tour bus is too dangerous?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not if it makes us fight. You could have died, and the last thing that we did was fight over Obsidian. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I don’t want to fight, either.”

Just then, Daryan walked into the room. “Klavier?”

He sat next to Klavier, running his fingers through his hair and then bent down to kiss Obsidian’s forehead. Then, he glared at Kristoph.

“What?” he snapped. “Is he here to take our kid away?”

“No.” Klavier laid a hand on Daryan’s arm. “He isn’t.”

“I don’t want to take Obsidian,” Kristoph said. “I want you to be happy.”

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“Oh, Daryan!” Klavier threw himself into Daryan’s arms. “We get to be a real family.”

Kristoph left them to be alone as a real family, promising to come back later with baby gifts. Klavier settled against Daryan, Obsidian in their arms.

#ace attorney #gavinners rpf #gavinners rpf potluck #is this the tag we're using?#gavinners content potluck #gavinnerscontentpotluck

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

Text

Top Shelf: Chapter 19- Book Ends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (bookshop, bartender, baking AU)

Word Count: 2,096

Summary: Spring is on the way and with it lots of new ideas and beginnings...

Author’s Note: So I have this ready and I was excited to post so it’s a little early again. I know the moodboard probably gives too much away but I enjoy making them so much! Hope you love this chapter and I did it justice. It was hard to imagine how this would go down but I think it was grand enough in the choice of place and the words and attention to detail that make it work without being too much. I’m rambling! The Meatball Shop is such a great place, check it out here, I’m hungry just thinking about it! haha I hope you like it and THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for your continued amazingness, you are all the best! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: SUPER SOFT FLUFFY SWEET LOVE :)

Top Shelf Masterlist

It’s early Sunday afternoon when you get the text from Peggy that the wedding proofs came in. You and Nat reply with several uppercase letters and happy emojis, agreeing to meet at Peggy and Steve’s for dinner and a browsing party. “Hey babe?” you shout, waiting for Bucky’s reply. He pops his head out of the bathroom, “yea baby, what’s up?”

You rush over to him and do a little dance, “Peggy said the proofs came in so we’re gonna go over there later and eat and drink wine and look and photos and no boys allowed!” He starts laughing before you even finish the sentence, shaking his head to get rid of some excess water. “Hey! You’re splashing me!” He drops the towel from around his waist and rubs it over his hair. “Better?”

Keeping your eyes on his you cross your arms, “mmm, I don’t know, let me check.” You walk closer and run your hands through his hair, the soft fluffy locks only slightly damp now. “Yes, better.” His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you all the way into the bathroom, picking you up and sitting you on the counter. “You have way too many clothes on,” he simpers, spreading your legs and standing between them. “Well then you better do something about it before I leave.”

-Cut to Bucky’s POV about and hour later-

“Hey Steve, can you meet me today? I’m sure you know Peggy got the proofs and the girls are coming by your place to look at them. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to go.” Steve chuckles into the phone, “of course, wanna grab a bite first? Let’s get tacos!” Bucky’s stomach grumbles as he happily agrees, quickly getting off the phone before you come into the room.

*****

When you arrive at Peggy’s she already has the wine out along with some snacks. Nat shows up a few minutes later and you all get comfy on the couch. “How did you get rid of Steve?” Nat asks, shoving some cheese into her mouth. “He said he and Bucky were gonna get tacos then go see Sam.” Nat finishes chewing, "that sounds about right.” You all laugh, ready to enjoy the beautiful photos and help Peggy pick some out.

You get home later than you thought, finding Bucky standing in the kitchen, a cookie half stuffed in his mouth. “Hi doll face,” he mumbles through a mouthful, “did you have fun?” Grabbing a cookie for yourself you kiss his cheek, “I did, the photos are amazing! There is one of us dancing that is so perfect Bucky! I ordered an 8x10 so we can frame it and hang it up!” His eyes light up, “that’s great, I can’t wait to see it.”

“So how many tacos did you eat?” He’s about to pop another cookie in his mouth but he stops, eyebrows knitted as he thinks over his answer. “Hmmm, probably like 12.” He shrugs, eating the cookie whole and going to get some milk. Downing the small glass, he says, “these are really good by the way, is this the new sugar cookie recipe?” You do a little happy dance, “it is! I think I finally got it right! They’ll be fun for Spring because I can do all different shapes and decorations!”

Bucky reaches his hand into the cookie jar for another one, but you smack it, “don’t do it, you’ll get a stomachache.” He makes a sad face, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Save it Barnes! And save some cookies so we can snack tomorrow! I can’t have you eating my bookshop supply!” He puts his hands up in surrender, “fine, fine. But they are really good!”

Later that night you’re cuddled up in bed, reading your book while Bucky absentmindedly plays with your hair. “OH!” he nearly yells, making you jolt and sit up. “Sorry, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you. He smirks, continuing on, “so Spring is right around the corner and the weather is getting nicer and warming up so I was thinking we could set up some tables outside the bookshop. Maybe add an awning or just umbrellas and plants or something.”

You watch him talk, his eyes bright and excited and when he finally stops rambling you crawl on top of him, kissing his lips. “That is an amazing idea baby! I love it!” His eyes crinkle in a smile, “ok great, I’m glad, I thought you would like it.” A few comfortable moments of silence pass while you stroke his beard, lightly kissing along his jaw. “You know what else is coming up,” he says, almost dreamily. “What?”

He stops your hand and holds it, kissing your palm, “the anniversary of the day we met. Do you remember it?” Playfully tapping your chin, you pretend to think it over. “Ummm, I think so, maybe. I mean it was SO LONG ago.” He rolls over and squishes you into the mattress. “Oh. I see how it is. At least we know one of us is a romantic!”

A few weeks later…

You walk outside with a hot cup of tea and some of your rose macarons, placing them down in front of Grandma Betty. “This should warm you up a bit!” You sit down across from her, wanting to take minute to say hi. “It’s really quite beautiful out, I love that you set up this area.” She bites into the cookie, immediately smiling. “Oh, these are just delicious! Well done sweetheart!” You bring her two more before going to the back to put more in the oven.

“Grandma is loving those rose macarons baby, nice work.” He gives you a quick kiss before grabbing more coffee. “Can you save some for us, I was thinking maybe we could stay at the bookshop tomorrow night since I’m not working the bar. Would be the perfect snack.” Smiling over your shoulder you happily agree. “I should have some left and if not, I can easily make another batch just for us.” Bucky licks his lips and winks, heading back out with the coffee.

Bucky lays back against the pillows on the floor, hands behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. “What are you doing doll?” His eyes follow you as you walk around the attic, scanning the bookshelves and quietly humming to yourself. “Just looking for something to read, any ideas?” You can’t see him, but Bucky let’s out a silent breath, rubbing his hands together and standing. He wipes his palms on his sweatpants and walks toward you.

“You know we never finished ‘The Never Ending Story,’ we could read more if you like?” Smiling at him over your shoulder you walk toward the shelf it’s on, filing through the spines in search of the title. “Perfect.” Pulling it from the shelf you hug it to your chest and turn toward Bucky. His eyes look bright with tears and you rush over to him, taking his hand in yours. “Bucky? What’s wrong?” He raises his hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips before kissing you.

The softness of the kiss takes your breath away and when you open them Bucky smiles, looking down at the book in your hands. “Ready?” You simply nod, lovingly stroking the cover of the book and thumbing the pages. You notice the ribbon bookmark, fingering the silky fabric before following it down and opening to the page it’s on.

Your eyes drop to something that catches the soft glow of the star lights hanging from the ceiling, it’s sparkle dancing over the words on the page. Your hand covers your mouth, nothing but a muffled cry escaping and when you look up Bucky is on one knee in front of you. The tears that filled his eyes earlier threaten to spill from the corners as he reaches up to take your hand in his. Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze his hand so tight, feeling as if you might float away at any moment.

“That’s for you.” You both laugh through your tears and you try desperately not to throw yourself into his arms, knowing he has more to say. “I knew you were special the day we met. And every day after I fell in love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing you every step of the way. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d chose you. You will never be anything less than everything for me. Will you marry me, y/n?”

You fall to your knees and throw your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder and saying “yes,” over and over again. He holds you for what feels like eternity, the thundering beat of his heart in sync with yours as it becomes steadier and your tears begin to dry. Lifting your head, you kiss him a thousand times, but it never seems enough and finally he says against your lips, “do you want to get a better look at the ring?”

Your cheeks are red and still wet from tears, but your smile is bright. “Yes! I’m just. I’m so happy, Bucky.” He picks up the book and unties the ring. Taking your left hand in his he slowly slides it onto your ring finger, kissing it before you pull it away to admire how perfectly beautiful it is. “Wow, it’s gorgeous. I couldn’t have picked a better ring myself!” You move your hand back and forth, the light from the moon filtering through the skylight reflecting off the diamonds and painting your face in shimmers.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Bucky.” You barely whisper the words, but they hold more weight in their honesty than any others, as if your heart spoke them. The mood shifts and Bucky has you in his arms, his body covering yours and his hands and mouth desperate to feel every inch of you. The sounds of city outside melt away and it’s only you two, skin to skin, every nerve ending alive with each other’s touch.

Thankful that you don’t have to wake up for anything you both sleep late into the morning, the sun bright and shining through the window, heating your bare skin and rousing you from your slumber. Your head rests on Bucky’s chest as you gently scrape your fingers through his beard, causing soft hums of pleasure to rumble through him. “I could stay like this forever.” Cuddling closer and pushing off the blanket you joke, “me too, except we might cook first.”

His laughter shakes you more awake and you roll over, stretching your limbs. The sunshine catches the facets of your ring, making it sparkle brilliantly and you can’t help but let out a squeal. “OMG BUCKY IT WASN’T A DREAM!” He takes your arms and brings you back to him, “no, it wasn’t. But it is a dream come true, you’re really gonna marry me.” Wiggling your fingers to get one more look you turn your eyes to him, “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“Why don’t we get dressed, and head home to shower then we can see if anyone is around to meet for lunch? Wanna go to The Meatball Shop, I’m already hungry.” You’re about to tell Bucky you are too but your stomach grumbles, saying it for you and you laugh. “Definitely, I could go for a giant plate of spaghetti.”

Once you’re back at your apartment you get yourself cleaned up, Bucky handling the texts to see if Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam can meet you. “Did you hear from anyone?” you ask Bucky as you fix your hair. “Nat said she and Sam already ate but they expect us at the bar later and Peggy and Steve are on the other side of the city so it’s just us I think.” Smiling you skip over to him and plant a kiss on his lips, “sounds good to me, I’ll just tell everyone we see on the streets the news.”

You decide to walk to the restaurant considering it’s such a nice day and Bucky keeps you busy by asking you questions about when and where you want to get married. You don’t realize you’re just steps away from the front of the restaurant and your friends are waiting outside the door until you hear Sam yell, “well, I guess this means she said yes!”

@aesthetical-bucky @book-dragon-13 @bugsbucky @buckys-broody-muffin @breezy1415 @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @lorilane33 @lokilvrr @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @loricameback @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923 @flyawaybay @throwmyheartawayagain @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @addikted-2-dopamine @lady-pswrld @buckys-henley @lookiamtrying @mishaandthebrits @hopefuldreamers-world @rebekahdawkins @randomesk-yuku

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 7 ~The Holiday Feeling~

Picture Source

WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Christmas Treats ...

After Annalise had left for a night out of bowling and dinner with Willie, she'd put on her new pyjamas, a long coat so no one in the street would notice what she was wearing underneath when she walked to Jamie's cottage and a pair of Ugg boots. All the while, her stomach did a mad flip-flopped, and she continually found herself staring into space, almost tripping on the way to Jamie's house.

Obviously, she hadn't finished staring into space because when Jamie opened the door after she'd knocked, sending her hurtling back to the present, she was speechless. Rollo dashed out of the house and circled her happily, jumping on her.

Jamie grinned and opened the door wider. "Sassenach! Get in here! We have a guest."

"Oh!?" I thought we're alone.

She pulled the coat tighter and patted Rollo's head. She remembered Annalise's word not to brace herself too hard, took a deep breath, relaxed and stepped into Jamie's house.

What she saw next, took her by surprise.

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

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

"Oh, it's alive. I thought it's a toy. What's that?" Claire asked as she stepped into the cottage and saw movement in the shoebox on the floor. Rollo flopped himself down beside it like he was the keeper and protector. "Is this the guest you're talking about?"

"One of them." Grinning, Jamie shut the door and followed her gaze. "Can't ye tell what's in the box? Harry found the poor wee thing mewling under the bushes in the park. It cannae be more than a week old. Probably wandered away from the litter and got lost. It's good Harry found her when he did. I dinnae think it would have survived tonight in this cold."

"It's a kitten!" Placing the paper bags she had on the rug, she got on her knees, picked up the ball of grey fur and held it against her chest. Half of its body was cocooned into a red child's sock, and its tiny head had a comical covering. "Goodness, it's even got a hat with earholes. I've never seen anything like this."

Jamie beamed. "Not my doing. Harry brought it all bundled up like that already."

"Who's Harry? Another sibling?" she asked, nuzzling her face into the tiny furry body before carefully depositing it back into the shoebox.

Ach, Harry! He was here a minute ago. "No. A mate. He's here somewhere. I invited him to stay for dinner. Give me a sec." He'd been distracted by Claire's arrival, he'd forgotten all about his unexpected visitor.

Jamie left Claire in the living area and went to look for his friend. When he felt a draft of cold air, he went into the kitchen thinking Harry probably went to have a peek at his back garden.

He poked his head out the back door. "Harry!" he called out. There was no answer. Where the bloody hell has he disappeared to?

All throughout the day he'd been looking forward to tonight after he'd spent the afternoon putting up a Christmas tree he'd bought at a tree farm and decorating it with ornaments belonging to his grandmother from his mother's side. And of all days, Harry had to drop by. Not that Jamie wasn't glad to see him, but the timing was terrible as spending some alone time with Claire was on top of his agenda. Nevertheless, he'd invited the Englishman to stay for dinner. But where the hell is he?

He scoured the yard, but he couldn't find Harry. Suddenly feeling the cold, he slipped back into the kitchen to check the pot roast. It was already ready after he'd left it in a slow cooker to cook all day.

Earlier this morning, after he'd dropped by at Claire's B&B cottage and kissed her, it had been a mammoth task to leaving her side, so he'd kept himself busy all day to make time go by faster. It was becoming apparent spending time away from her was starting to feel like the tension on a bungee cord. The longer the time they spent apart, the greater the urge to see her. And the line felt like it was getting shorter, like his threshold for not being with her was diminishing. If Harry was joining them for dinner, he hoped he wouldn't stay too long after dessert.

"Jamie?"

He glanced up to find Claire holding up a bottle of red wine.

"I splurged a bit. I hope this bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon will go with whatever you're cooking?"

Perfect! Putting the teatowel down, he grinned and approached her.

"It's a classic," he said, taking the bottle from her hand and putting it on the counter. He pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips against hers. "I'm sorry Sassenach, I havenae given ye a proper greeting."

She smiled against his mouth. "Where's your friend?" she asked when he was done kissing her.

He pulled away and ran a hand through his hair. "God knows! He probably left. Harry does that all the time. I've invited him to Lallybroch for tea countless of times, but he’s always refused. I guess he's just not a people person." Jamie decided not to worry about it. "Hungry?"

"Very." She glanced past his shoulder. "What are we having?"

"Pot roast."

"Hmmm, nice. Smells heavenly. Need help?"

"No, I have everything under control. Want something to drink?" Jamie asked, taking out wine glasses, plates and cutleries.

"Not just yet. I had a cuppa before I left the cottage." She smiled at him. "I love your home, especially that fireplace. Is it original?"

He checked the roasted root vegetables in the oven for doneness and shoved them back in again. "Aye, it's an original. This is a crofter's cottage from the eighteenth century, and I've salvaged most of the original fixtures and fittings."

"Love the Christmas tree too. Did you put it up today?" she asked glancing around the kitchen, peering out of the window and touching his collection of fridge magnets.

"Aye, I did."

"Those antique Christmas ornaments are stunning and much better than those plastic baubles you get in shops. I have a few antique ornaments myself. Just too bad, our London flat is not big enough to accommodate a proper Christmas tree." She lifted the lid off the slow cooker and took a whiff. "Mmm, this smells lovely."

He straightened and glanced at what she was wearing. "Sassenach?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are ye still wearing yer coat? Are ye cold? I thought I put enough wood in the fire."

She grinned. "Oh, this. It's a surprise. Hang on a minute." She turned her back to him, and he waited with anticipation, watching her movements of undoing her coat. If she was wearing a negligee under that coat, he knew he would have a heart attack, and dinner would definitely be put on hold if not cancelled. But he rubbished his thoughts immediately, knowing she wasn't that type of lass. "Close your eyes!" she instructed, and he did.

"Ye're killing me."

"Patience!"

"Are ye naked under yer coat?" he teased.

"You wish!"

He heard rustling followed by footsteps.

"Right, you can open them now."

He slowly opened his eyes, and his gaze immediately landed on the front of her top. It was a Rudolph the Reindeer's face applique complete with a protruding shiny big nose. She was a bundle of red, wearing red fleece pyjamas with plaid bottoms, and her feet were covered in thick, red woollen socks. He laughed out loud.

"Wait for this. You haven't seen anything yet." Claire fiddled with something from under the hem and pulled the reindeer antler's hood from behind. The reindeer's nose on her front lit up, and the antlers stood lopsided on her head. The hoodie was far too big for her, and it hid one eye. "Ho, ho, ho!" she intonated in a low voice.

He chuckled and pulled her against him. "Ho, ho, ho, indeed. Where did ye get this? This is something for Christmas morning. It's almost as ridiculous as the Christmas jumpers."

"I know, right? As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get it. Bought it today in Inverness. I thought since we've been doing all sort of Christmassy things together, I'd stick with the theme."

"That red nose is not going to keep flashing like that the whole evening, will it? It's very distracting."

She pressed something from under the top. "Nope. The show's over."

He arched an eyebrow and decided to tease her. "Really? What's underneath that top?"

She blushed, but the smile never left her face. "A hungry tummy."

"Brilliant! Shall we eat then?"

"Sure! I'll help set up the table."

Claire rattled off the things she did with Annalise that day. He was glad her friend had agreed to stay until Three Kings which would buy him more time getting to know Claire better. Jamie didn't want to think of the day when she would go back to London, even though it had been lurking all day at the back of his mind. Watching her work beside him in the kitchen, he was glad she felt comfortable and right at home. He wanted to make good memories with her just in case this was all they would ever have.

They served dinner like they'd been doing it together for years, pouring red wine, plating food he'd prepared and chatting the entire time. They sat opposite each other so Jamie could see every blush, expression and emotion that crossed her face, appreciating the fact she had an appetite, a sense of humour and took a keen interest in his work, life and Broch Mordha. He might have sounded a tad bit like a salesman trying to sell a lifestyle in a remote Highland village, and if she noticed, she didn't give any hints.

When they touched the delicate subject of his PTSD, he realised it was easier to talk about it this time. Claire spoke with refreshing candour, even suggesting alternative healing such as meditation and acupuncture, which he liked and made a mental note to look into it.

Throughout their meal, Claire spoke of her childhood, and in exchange, he talked about his family. From time to time, he would reach out to squeeze her hand so he could see the blush blooming on her cheeks or kiss her, to see the shy smile spreading across her face. Every second with her was a pleasant discovery, and he knew what a lucky bastard he was. How she was without a boyfriend was beyond him but thankful that she didn't have one.

After dinner, they cleared the table and did the dishes. And when Jamie took out Rollo for a short exercise, Claire fed the kitten with a wee bottle Harry had left him.

They took their coffee, a box of chocolate Claire loved, and the unfinished bottle of red wine into the living room. As Jamie put another log into the fire, Rollo curled up next to Claire. It was quite apparent, he wasn't the only one smitten. Smiling, he plopped down next to her and turned on the TV to watch Home Alone.

..........

When the film credits started rolling in the end, Jamie turned off the volume and stretched. He glanced over to Claire just in time to see her unwrapping a Ferrero Rocher chocolate. When she realised he was looking at her, she offered him the already unwrapped sweet.

He shook his head and smiled. "So, what do ye want to do?"

The room filled with silence as she exaggeratedly contemplated, tapping her chin and scrunching her nose while rolling the chocolate in her mouth.

His eyes dropped to the delicate lines of her jaw. The smooth, pale skin of her neck and the movement of her throat as she swallowed wreaked havoc with his concentration. He had a very vivid image of what they could do, and they involved running his tongue along the neckline of that ridiculous pyjama top. Since that option would probably send her running out the door, he quickly dismissed the idea. "More movies?" he suggested.

"No. Had enough. Do you know how to play poker?"

"Do I know how to play poker?" He laughed out loud. "I'm a master at the game."

Her eyes lit up. "You have a deck of cards?"

"Aye, I will go and get them." He got up from the sofa and headed towards a desk in the corner of the room. "Always love a game of poker."

"Oh, good. I haven't played for ages."

"What do we play for?"

She cleared the coffee table and crossed her legs. "We'll play for pennies, how about that?"

"I dinnae think I have any loose change."

"We'll think of something else. I'm dealing."

He handed her the deck of cards, put on some classic Christmas song, and then refilled their glasses. He sat beside her and watched with amazement as her fingers expertly flew through the cards with ease, shuffling with lightning speed. While concentrating on his hand, he wondered where she learned how to deal and surmised probably her uncle, the same man who taught her to play pool.

"Alright, here we go, dealer's choice. Five-card stud, ante up."

He glanced up at her. "Wait! We havenae decided what we're playing for."

"Oh, I forgot. You said you don't have any loose change."

"Maybe we ought to play for the family jewels."

She slapped him on the thigh. "Ha-ha! You funny man!"

His lips twitched. "Weel, any ideas?"

"Can't think of one at the moment."

"Wait a minute ...I have a verra interesting one."

Claire glared at him. "If you're thinking of strip poker, forget it."

He laughed out loud. "No, I didnae mean that. Although I wouldnae mind that." When she arched an eyebrow at him, he grinned. "I meant we'll play for favours."

She bit her lower lip. "Favours? What kind of favours?" she asked suspiciously.

"The first to win three hands gets a free favour from the other. It can be used at any time, like a voucher per se."

Her face suddenly became animated. "Can you use the favour for anything? How about the rules?"

He grinned. "Nae rules and ye can redeem yer favours on anything. Anything at all."

The challenge lured her in like a true gambler following the scent of a big stake. "Very well then, we're playing for favours."

He smothered the jubilant smile threatening to surface and quickly fixed his expression into poker-face, almost licking his lips with glee when she'd agreed.

She dealt, and he almost pumped his fist in the air at the obvious outcome, but he remained silent, watching her replace one of her cards.

After a while, he laid down his cards. "Flush."

"Cool. Two queens. Your deal." Her expression remained inscrutable. God, her poker face is good!

Jamie had to give her credit for keeping her emotions under control. Whoever taught her to play, taught her well and if it wasn't for his past experience, he felt in his guts she'd be one hell of a player to beat. Next, she threw down a pair of aces and yielded gracefully to his three twos.

"Alright, one more hand to go," he announced, subduing the mirth in his voice.

"My deal. I can count, ye ken," she said, imitating his accent. He kept his face impassive as he watched her dainty fingers flitting over the cards. "Care to share where you learn how to play poker?"

He inspected his hand casually. "Played a lot with my unit during my SAS days. Beats sitting around and twiddling my thumbs during long intervals."

"My uncle taught me," she shared. "As well as backgammon and chess."

He threw in a card and replaced it. "I have backgammon and chessboards if ye feel like playing for another time. I'm quite good at both games, in case ye're up for a challenge."

She let out an unladylike snort when she laid down her cards, displaying straight as victory gleamed in her eyes.

Jamie almost felt sorry for her. Not quite but almost.

He whistled low and shook his head. "Good hand." This time he allowed himself to smile. "But, sorry lass, it's no' good enough." He threw his cards down, showing four aces and then cockily stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on the sofa. "Nice game, though."

She gasped and looked at him with those beautiful golden orbs. "Jamie, the probabilities of four aces in five-card stud are ..." Her eyes widened. "Oh my word, you didn't!"

"What?"

"Why you cheeky sod ..."

"What, Sassenach?"

"Don't Sassenach me. You cheated!"

"No!"

"Yes, you did!"

He shook his head in feigned horror and tried to look offended. "Och, how could ye think that? Surely not! I ken ye're verra good at it, but this is all on luck."

Her pretty eyebrows slammed together. "No way you can get those four aces unless you palmed the cards. Admit it, because I was thinking of doing it myself, but I refrained from doing so!"

"Don't ye think yer accusation is a tad bit harsh?"

"Jamie, you cheated! I know you did. I can't believe you cheated on our date night. Oh, my God! How could you?"

"I did no such thing."

"Jamie!"

"No cheating occurred, Sassenach." He straightened up from his sitting position and smiled. "Now about that favour I won ..." But his voice trailed off when she abruptly stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Sassenach?"

"You cheat!" Without warning, she propelled herself over the coffee table and into his arms. Air whooshed out of him as she toppled him back onto the sofa and slipped a hand under the sleeves of his sweatshirt, looking for the suspected hidden cards. Jamie grunted as the full weight of Claire landed on him, her intent on finding proof of foul play resolute. He attempted to regain his balance, but she shifted her attention somewhere else, making him fall back again. When her hands slipped into his pants pocket, he realised if she delved any deeper, she wouldn't come up empty-handed. Ah, sweet Jesus! With no other options, he flipped her onto her back and pinned both hands above her head.

The tie holding her hair somehow became undone during the struggle, causing her chocolate brown curls to spring forth and tumble down, and a few unruly locks to settle on her face. Jamie stared at the snapping golden eyes peeking between the strands, filled with determination despite his more considerable strength. Her chest heaved against her ridiculous top, the appliquéd Rudolf the reindeer staring mockingly at him. Without meaning to, his weight forced her thighs apart, and he wondered if she was aware of both their predicament. Or at least his.

Jamie knew he would be in deep trouble if he remained where he was, as she continued to wriggle under him.

"I know you're hiding the cards somewhere. I wasn't born yesterday, you know! Admit you cheated and I will forget this ever happened."

"Will ye keep still, Sassenach" he muttered. "Ye're torturing me."

She stuck out her bottom lip and blew a hard breath, the wayward curl lifting and blowing sideways, clearing her line of sight. "That's your conscience doing that. Did you know there's a special place in hell for cheaters?"

He muttered a curse under his breath. "Don't ye ever think of the repercussion to yer actions? Ye cannae just tackle a man like that."

"Oh? What are you going to do about it? Tell Santa to put me on his naughty list?"

Her body suddenly started to shake when she burst into fits of laughter at her own words, causing the heat in his groin to surge through his body like a wildfire gone out of control. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! His blood buzzed in his head like a swarming fog, and even though he tried to shift all his thoughts on the fat man sliding down the chimney and getting stuck halfway, all he could only think of was the soft body beneath him. He tried not to breathe and held his body in a tight muscle lock and prayed Claire wouldn't make any more sudden big movements; otherwise, he was going to explode like a schoolboy and look like a glaikit idiot.

But when the realisation of his plight swiftly dawned on her, her mouth formed a comical O, and her face turned bright red, her previous intent on extracting a confession of his cheating, dissipating.

"Jamie?" Her voice was husky.

He swallowed hard and ignored the fact he had a big fat boner wedged between them. "Did I hurt ye? Didnae mean to be so rough."

"No. I'm fine."

"Are ye sure?"

She smiled, and he inhaled deeply to regain his composure. She smelled like shampoo and flowers and just a hint of fruit flavoured lollies, and he could just about see the pulse palpitating on her neck. Their position made his erection harder, and the way she was looking at him wasn't helping at all.

"You're a big lad," she gulped.

Ah, shite! "And ye're not helping," he said hoarsely, tamping down a groan.

"Shall I go?"

"No!" He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Just be still for a moment, aye?"

"Alright."

They laid still for a while looking at each other.

Carefully, he let go of her wrists above her head and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I can stare at ye like this for hours and never tire of it," he whispered. She smiled, and he kissed the smooth line of her jaw. When she tilted her head back, his lips trailed down of their own accord, bowing his body over hers as he worked his way to the side of her neck.

Hard as he was, he didn't move against her. He wanted her to feel safe and everything to be on her terms, letting her know this attraction went beyond sex. He held on to his control with a mental vice grip and simply appreciated the moment.

His combed his fingers through her curls, feeling the softness of it in his hand as he kissed her softly, never demanding or pushing even if it pained him a lot.

He heard Rollo sigh from somewhere in the house and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. He almost shot out the sofa as small hands tentatively explored his chest and shoulders, before sliding around his neck and up through his hair. Then they moved down his side and waist before her palms settled over the ridges of his stomach. He loved the small sounds she made at the back of her throat and the softness against every part of him that was hard. Every movement and sigh she made, her scent drifted and surrounded him, a heady pheromone, pulling him in closer.

When her hands slipped under his sweatshirt and settled at his lower back, his breath broke and went ragged, and an instant electric tension rose between them, turning their soft, playful kisses heated and more urgent.

As much as it hurt him to do so, he tore his lips away and looked into her eyes. "We dinnae have to do anything ye dinnae want, Sassenach. We can stop right now," he whispered, his voice sounding oddly gruff in his ears. He felt his cock protesting against his boxer shorts, but he ignored the mounting discomfort in his groin.

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to stop. Kiss me again."

Relief slammed through him as a ton of weight lifted off his back. "Sassenach, are ye sure?"

She nodded.

He was about to kiss her again when a gentle push of her hands on his chest stopped him.

"I've never done this before," she whispered.

"What do ye mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "I meant sex!"

Ah, Christ! A virgin living in London! How is that possible? Even for Broch Mordha, a virgin was a rarity. He shut his eyes for a few heartbeats, and when he opened them again, suddenly she looked unsure, almost embarrassed, and he felt she needed him to step up. He gave her a slow smile to put her at ease. "Do ye come with a user's manual? Never been with a virgin before."

Her face broke into laughter, and the tension eased a bit. "No! And before you start having all sorts of notions about virgins, I'm not all that naive. I have a fair idea of how it suppose to happen."

"Weel, no crash courses needed then," he joked before his face turned serious. "But why me, Sassenach?"

She gave him an unwavering look, her chin tilting up slightly. "Because I've never felt like this before."

Neither had he, but the wee voice in the back of his head reminded him this lass was the type of lass you brought home to introduce to your parents. Getting involved with her on a deeper emotional level wouldn't bode well for both of them as her life was in London, and he belonged here. He didn't want to hurt her. She deserved a man who could live in her world without falling down to his knees and having one of his episodes. But the gravitational pull between them was unrelenting. He needed her badly, but his conscience compelled him to offer one more out. One more, before he lost sight of the right thing to do.

"We can just continue kissing ...nothing needs to happen," he rasped, brushing their lips together. "Just say the word, Sassenach. I promise ye I wouldnae mind. I'm perfectly happy just to kiss."

Claire's breath caught as she scrutinised him, the weight of what could follow once they'd stripped each other's clothes written in her eyes. Probably in his, too. "I want this Jamie ... I'm ready."

He studied her for a long while, before making up his mind and nodding. "Wait here."

Getting up, he grabbed some blankets and throw cushions from the sofa and laid them out on the floor. And then he went to retrieve some condoms from the bedroom. After a couple of minutes fussing and finally satisfied with his handiwork, he picked Claire up and gently carried her by the fireplace. Though the fire was already slowly dying down, the embers still glowed, lending the room a cosy feel and warmth.

Claire looked up at him and beamed. "Well, I suppose this is the part where you take off your top."

He laughed out loud despite his balls almost on the verge of mutiny. What supposed to be a tense and awkward moment, was turning out to be fun. He didn't need telling twice. Grinning, he dragged his shirt over his head and was hovering over her under a split second. She looked mightily impressed as she pulled him down. "Wow, never seen anyone take their shirt off so fast," she breathed as he pressed his lips on the hollow of her throat.

"Ye should see how fast I can get yers off," he muttered against the crook of her neck.

She laughed and gently pushed him away. "I don't want my Rudolph top damaged. I'll take my own clothes off, thank you very much."

With his heart in his throat, he watched her stand and peeled off her pyjama bottom first. She had her back to him, and he figured she was trying to hide her blush. And when she took off her top next, his cock roared back to life, and he hurriedly followed suit, taking off his sweatpants, his eyes fixed on the smoothness of her long legs. Leaving her red bra and knickers on, she swiftly slipped next to him, her teeth clattering and her beautiful pale skin covered in goosebumps.

He gathered her immediately under him, rubbing her arms and the side of her body. "How's that? Still cold?" he asked, looking down at her.

She bit her lip and nodded. "Feeling a lot warmer now."

"Christ, ye smell so good."

"And you're so hot." When she realised what she just said, her eyes widened in horror. "I mean you're like a heating pad."

He grinned at her. "I know what ye meant, but I'll take the other meaning any day. It will do wonders for my ego."

She slapped his arm. "Your ego is perfectly intact, I can assure you."

He smiled as he skimmed his hand up her side and gently cupped her breast, waiting for her reaction. When he felt her back arch a little, he brought down his lips to hers, gently thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She let out a tiny whimper, opening and taking each thrust, conscious of her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

He reminded himself to take it slow and make it memorable for her, but when she parted her knees and allowed him to settle between her thighs, he groaned out loud and changed position, so the tip of his erection pressed right into her through their undies. The slow tease of their movements was maddening, and he wondered if she was aware of it. His cock was straining against her where it would slide in effortlessly if there had been nothing between them.

He felt her hooked her thumbs at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. He helped her by kicking them off while putting his fingers under the edge of her knickers. He paused with bated breaths, waiting for her permission, and when she lifted her hips, he groaned and kissed her long and thorough, pushing the flimsy scrap down her thighs.

He nipped at her lips, then trailed down with his tongue to nibble her neck, his fingers unsnapping the clasp of her bra. Claire flailed her head, seemingly unable to verbalise the reactions her body was experiencing, and he watched her with fascination. Emboldened, he cupped the weight of her breast, rolling her nipple, then gently tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, God Jamie ..."

"It's good?"

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut and rolling her lips in.

Jamie lowered his mouth and sucked her nipple, his tongue flicking and never letting up the frantic pace, his fingers trailing along her inner thigh, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin. When he touched her core, she was already wet with need, making his head spin out of control. Fighting the urge to take her now, his index finger traced her folds, rubbing her wetness on her nub. The delicate hitch of her breath hit his ears the exact time his mouth abandoned her breast.

He met her gaze and sank into the amber depths of her eyes, so far gone with pleasure they turned to molten gold, full of feminine demand that battled past all obstacles and shattered them to pieces. The raw need etched in her features told Jamie she was past the point of no return, that she wanted him now and he knew the feeling.

"Sassenach ...are ye sure?"

"Oh, sweet Mother of God, if you stop now ..." her voice trailed off in a hiss.

"I need to hear the words."

"For God's sake, I want you, Jamie. Now."

Knocking back the reluctance to untangle himself from her, Jamie reared back and reached out for the condom he'd left beside the cushion. He quickly sheathed himself in stretched latex and prowled up her body, settling between her thighs and muffling her requests to hurry with a hard kiss.

"The first time ye come, I want it to happen while I'm sunk so deep in ye, ye'll never forget who broke it in," he muttered, words muffled by her lips.

"Oh, dear God ..." she moaned.

"Open yer legs wider for me, Sassenach."

She nodded, her fingers running over his cheekbones, lips, chin, as she hiked her knees up. Their breaths raced out of their mouths as he reached down and guided his cock to her opening. Slowly, he pushed inch by inch, allowing her to get used to his girth. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he collapsed and dropped her forehead to hers.

When he got his breath back, he braced himself on his elbow and looked into her eyes. "Did I hurt ye?"

"Just a little. I hardly noticed. Keep moving." She wrapped her legs around his hips, her fingernails scraping his back lightly on the way down to his arse, which she gripped with hesitation at first, then with more confidence.

With a groan, his hips started to roll of their own volition. He held his breath as heat threatened to flare up in his balls. "Oh fuck, ye feel so good."

"Don't stop ..." she gasped frantically moving her hips against him.

With a hand on her bottom, he lifted her hips effortlessly and drove himself deeper, the last shreds of his control dissolving as he fell on top of her like a dying man. His mouth travelled over hers, and she responded in kind, their tongues twining, their bodies moving in synchronicity to the erotic rhythm and dance. The root of his erection grated against her core and her hips lifted to meet his thrusts, her breaths coming out in pants. It was so breathtaking to watch her pleasure, and what his body is doing to hers, it constricted his heart.

When she dropped her legs from his hips to spread them wider, she let out a strangled moan, and his cock bore down, working her nub. He angled his body for more friction, watching and always conscious of her reaction. When her back arched, and her right leg extended further out, they descended into what felt like wanton madness. She whimpered and raised her hips to meet his thrusts, her inner walls beginning a slow, tight suction of his cock. Jamie was almost afraid to look at her, worried the sight of her would make him lose his restraint and come before her. But it was an impossibility to keep his eyes away when she looked so beautiful beneath him.

He watched her writhe and finesse flew out the window. He fell on her, grunting, sucking in huge gulps of air, pushing her thighs open as he drove faster, listening to her moans of his name, treasuring the throaty awe of them in his ears and all around him. Their mouths joined and gorged, her hands slapping down on his buttocks to pull him in deeper and push him faster. All thoughts of logic, questions and issues suspended as he dipped his head, lowered his mouth over her jiggling tits and continued to pump like a wild beast.

Her body suddenly stilled, before trembling violently underneath him in a climax accompanied by a soft moan, her inner walls squeezing his cock tight. Cursing under his breath, he yanked her legs up and drove himself with a few more hard thrusts to his own peak, a loud groan reverberating from his chest and echoing into the room. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body exploded and spilt his seed. He went from being a bundle of tensed nerves to being utterly devoid of it.

Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of her, gathering her against him, almost smothering the air out of her. His insides were totally decimated, mind blown and floated down like confetti.

Moments later, when he lifted his head and searched her eyes, he couldn't stop the widest grin from spreading across his face. And when she returned it with a twinkle in her eye, he fell irreversibly and completely in love with Claire Beauchamp.

..........

The next morning, Jamie got up extra early to let Claire sleep while he did a few chores around the house. He'd kept her up all night, making love and sometime in the early hours of the morning, he'd carried her to his bed. Sleep had been evasive, but this time the cause hadn't been his nightmares or one of his episodes. His thoughts had been filled with the future and its uncertainties instead of being plagued with the past. There were still some niggling doubts lurking in the recesses of his mind, and one of them was his concern when Claire returned to London.

How often had he asked himself in the past twenty-four hours if he could live in London to be closer to her? But now that he had an arboricultural business with Willie, it was doing very well and planning on expanding. He was excited about the community projects he was involved in and committed himself to working long-term. With his episodes and PTSD, the idea of being surrounded by busy streets, chaos, traffics, loud noises, and shoes on the pavement rather than fresh earth paralysed a piece inside him.

Jamie had spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Eventually, some choices have to be made. And he wasn't sure if love would be enough for either of them and if Claire felt the same way.

Taking that leap would only end in heartache and worsen his condition. There had to be some other way. But he couldn't ask her to give up her life and career in London. Or could he? Could he give her what she needed? He shook his head and pushed the bugging thoughts away. They still had the time, and he should focus on that.

After letting Rollo out and bringing in more logs for the fireplace, he made some coffee, answered his emails and read some news on the internet. When his phone chirped and realised it was from his sister Jenny, he groaned. He decided to answer and get it out of the way.

Jenny: I heard all about the lass you're seeing. A city lass, no less. Have you gone mad? Haven't you learned your lessons?

Ah, fuck, I don't have time for this.

Jamie: Enjoy your holiday, and don't worry about me. It's just a winter fling. OK? She's on holiday, and she'll be going back to London. Soon. Happy now?

He left his phone on the kitchen counter and shook his head. This wasn't the text conversation he should be having about Claire. But if it would keep Jenny from busting his balls of all days, he'd play along just to pacify her. He slipped into the bedroom, and when he saw Claire still asleep, he decided to have a shave and shower.

After he was done, he walked into the bedroom and noticed the bed was already made. He searched for Claire, humming under his breath and planning what breakfast he should prepare.

"Sassenach?" he called out.

No answer.

She probably went back to her cottage to get a change of clothes, he thought.

He shrugged and went ahead and prepared breakfast, singing along to the song playing on the radio. All I Want For Christmas Is You.

Dear Readers,

Thanking you all for reading and leaving your feedback on the previous chapter. Very much appreciated. It's crunch time now with my writing and preparation for Christmas, but thank God, I'm still on track.

Anyway, I hope this story has given you Christmas joy so far and looking forward to reading what you thought of my latest update. Sending you best wishes and positive vibes. Take care of yourselves and until next time, much love. x

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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cal-puddies · 4 years

Text

a million little times // ashton irwin

big shout out to @kindahoping4forever for letting me work this out and coming in with the last minute help for re-ordering. i hope she was surprised because i started this so she would be. (old convo a while ago, i didn’t forget!)

word count: 2169

warnings: angsty, mentions of cheating/infidelity, mentions of sex

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Let me know what you think!

Ash falls onto his bed. Your smell surrounds him, from the last time you were there; a tawdry 2 weeks of nakedness and sex, kissing and talking and showing you everything he could be for you.

But you still left when Logan came back.

Him and the band were in rehearsal for tour and he knew it’d be months before he could see you again. He wouldn’t get to see you until he was home or if Logan left and you could get away.

He catches the green toothbrush, next to his pink one out of the corner of his eye; you’d immediately gone for the green when presented with the choices and Ash happily took the pink because he was with you. He kept all of your travel stuff since he was single and if it wasn’t around at home it couldn’t raise any questions. Again, Ash was happy to, because it meant he was with you.

He remembers the way the sheets wrapped around your body and it gave and gave and gave, and he couldn’t imagine any man not giving you absolutely everything.

He thinks about you just in his shirt, so undone and pretty, the hours and hours of talking. Spilling all your secrets to each other, you told him about what you’d wanted in life and he told you how he wanted a family.

Even though he subconsciously knew you were someone else’s, you always made him feel like you were his, like Logan didn’t exist, unless he brought him up first.

*****

Logan places his cufflinks while he watches you finish your makeup, “we could have paid someone.” He mentions, checking his tie.

“Why? it’s just a party.” You shrug.

“You never let me spoil you.” He groans.

“You only want it because I’m the girl on your arm.” You roll your eyes, the air was tense, like it always is anymore. “And I don’t need to be spoiled.”

“Fine.” He huffs.

He watches you reach for perfume, he grabs the one he got you most recently, but you reach for the one you bought for Ashton, without even thinking.

“When did you even get that?” Logan asks, seeming to really notice it for the first time.

“I’m not sure, a couple years ago?” You reach for Ashton’s earrings and walk out to get yourself dressed.

When you get to the party, Ashton is the first person you look for, he’s in the middle of the room, surrounded by his friends, he smiles softly when you make eye contact.

“Should we get drinks?” Logan asks.

You nod, leading him toward the middle of the room before heading to the bar. When you pass Ash you tuck your hair behind your ear, so he sees the earrings and gets a whiff of you. He knows that means to find you later.

You excuse yourself to fix your makeup, Ash locks the door behind him a few minutes later, pressing himself against your back. “What do you want?” He whispers.

“You, just you.” You murmur, turning into him, kissing him.

It’s instantly needy, he can’t keep you in here long and you both know that. You immediately start undoing his belt, and he lifts you onto the counter, pulling your skirt up over your waist and pushing your panties to the side.

Logan spots you when you walk back in from outside. You glance at Ashton, back with his friends like 10 minutes ago you weren’t wrapped around him. His cheeks were a little pink, but you were downright still flushed.

Logan’s arm scoops around your back, “there you are.” Is tightly whispered in your ear.

“It’s just a little warm, stepped out for some air.”

“Well are you ok? You still look flushed.”

*****

Ash can’t wait, you can sense it the second you open the door to his car, leaving yours in the office lot again.

You were heading to the Beverly Wilshire, where you spent most of your multi day sessions with him. Especially back when it was New, 5 years ago.

His hand slides up your thigh and you glance at him. He smiles and his eyes soften, the look he gave you when you first met; Before he knew you were married, or what you did, before putting all the moves on you. It inevitably worked. You could say for certain.

Which is why you were here now.

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck and he puts the car in drive.

“I hate the rules.” He murmurs, while you’re laying in bed together.

“I know. They aren’t my favorite either.” You admit, looking up at him. “But, they keep us from overstepping.”

“You mean they keep me from asking you to leave him again.”

“Ashton.” You move away, pushing yourself off the bed. You grab his button down and pull it on. “We can’t do this again. You know all the reasons why…”

Ash gets on his knees and crawls across the bed, grabbing you by the waist, “Yes, I know all the reasons why we shouldn’t have this conversation, but I have one why we should.” He presses his lips to yours. You make a “hmmm” noise, “because I love you, and you love me. And we’re great together. And you told me 3 years ago that you weren’t in love with him anymore.”

“Yes and we almost went through with that plan and someone got cold feet.” You remind him, tapping his chest before pulling away, heading for the bathroom.

“Does he make you cum like I do?” He calls after you.

“You know he doesn’t.” You say, closing the door.

Ash collapses face first on the bed, sighing.

*****

There was barely enough space for Ash in the backseat of the SUV, and it was only now that you were twisting his curls between your fingers, head on your chest, draped over your body like a blanket that you really took notice.

“That dress looked incredible.” He murmurs.

“Oh, did you even see it?” You breathe out a laugh, “before we got cum all over it?” You tease.

“I’m sorry, it’s been too long.” He smiles at you.

“I know, that’s why I agreed to a parking lot meetup… didn’t know I needed a change of clothes though.” You smirk.

“You can come back to mine?” Ash offers, knowing you’d likely say no and you should say no.

“Bubba.” You murmur. “I think I’d love that. But that doesn’t solve the ‘what will I wear home?’ Situation.” You point out.

“Couldn’t you stay? Say you went out with the girls or stayed downtown because you worked late?”

“I’d be pushing it.” You sigh.

“Let me have you for the night, please?” He's so close to begging, sitting up to unleash the full power of his pout and green eyes.

“Ash…” you reach up, resting your palm on his cheek, “you know I want that too.”

“You’ll have to shower anyway, I’m all over you. You have stuff at my place.” He reminds you.

“We agreed not at your place anymore… too personal, too many emotions in that bed, too easy for your friends to just pop by.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just hard you know? I want you around.”

“I know.” You nod.

“What do you say? Just come shower.” He tries again.

“Ok,” You agree, sitting up and reaching for your panties. You know going to his place means you’ll give in and stay the night. It’s why it became off limits in the first place.

Ash pulls on his undershirt and pants, handing over his button down for you to put on instead of the cum covered dress.

He gets you to stay, coaxing you to the bed so he can hold you before you shower.

“Can I see you again this week?” He asks.

You look over his face, he looks so unsure, lacking the confidence he normally has. “Maybe, I think Logan might be out of town this weekend. I’ll let you know.” You promise. You peck him on the lips, breathing in deep and trying to remember every bit of this night.

You text Logan that you’d be staying downtown due to working late.

*****

Ashton knew it was wrong, the second you gave him a second glance though, he was gone. You flicked your hair off your shoulder and he saw the wedding ring, but it didn’t stop him from approaching you at the bar.

He brushes his fingertips over your bare shoulder. “Doesn’t a pretty little thing like you have someone to fetch her drinks?”

He can feel your eyes roll. “Yeah, sure. But did it cross your mind that I needed to get away?” You smirk.

“Ashton.” He holds out his hand and you turn to shake it, he’s immediately breathless, staring in your eyes. You introduce yourself and occupy your time talking to him, maybe another 20 minutes.

You lose yourself, not noticing the other people around trying to get drinks, but you notice when he puts himself in between you and a glass of wine you’d knocked with your elbow, catching the spill himself. Your eyes go wide, “I’m so so sorry!” You say, grabbing for napkins being handed to you by the bartender.

“It’s ok… for you? I’d ruin myself a million little times.” He hushes you, giving you a sweet smile.

He asks for your number as you get ready to move on, “Bold, since I saw you looking at my wedding ring.” You tease.

“Just wanna talk to you again.” He shrugs, handing over his phone so you can punch in the number.

*****

I can’t meet at the hotel. I have to meet L for dinner.

We need to talk.

He didn’t respond, but Ashton was waiting in your parking lot, from the early days. It sat near the beach, and you were very familiar with the traffic patterns of it.

You see he’s not in his car so you head out to the beach and see him there, alone.

“Hey baby.” You say quietly, standing just behind him.

“This is it, isn’t it?” He asks.

“I’m not sure. Logan’s job wants him to move… to the UK.”

“You know we go there sometimes.” He points out. “What about your job?”

“We haven’t talked about what it means for us yet. That’s why I had to cancel our night.” You admit.

“So, what… you wanted to come here and break my heart, kid?” He snarks back, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“Don’t be an asshole, Ash. You’ve known this thing had a time limit.”

He sighs and stands in front of you, “I’ll always wish we’d met before you met him. Because I do think you’d be with me.”

“Ash…” you say softly. “We can’t…”

“Yeah… I know. Call me or don’t at this point.” He shrugs, squeezing your shoulder as he walks off.

*****

Ash looks at himself in the mirror, it was a typically rainy day in London and he had the night off, so he was heading out to meet you at a hotel you’d picked.

He hadn’t seen you six months, since your move to London. He knew you were miserable and hated it, you’d emailed him a bunch and he’d send the bare minimum in replies. Having the distance and the beach moment gave him clarity.

He sighs, slipping on a jacket and then taking the elevator to slide into a car.

He spots you immediately, and he can almost smell your perfume at the door.

“Hi.” He mentions, standing next to you at the bar.

“Hey,” you smile softly, moving to hug him and he looks around and shakes his head so you stop and course correct. “I’ve missed you.” You offer.

“Yeah? My life’s been different without you.” He agrees. And then he’s quiet. He lets you talk at him a bit, but doesn’t offer anything up.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

He’s silent for a while longer and then swirls the glass in his hand, “You know how sometimes the world stops? And it’s like… big life changing moments? I’ve had a few of them. But 3 have been with you, and only one has been truly positive, and I don’t know if it’s meeting you, or leaving you.” He tips the glass of whiskey back against his lips.

He slips off the stool and throws a few bills on the bar to pay for all the drinks.

“Wait… Ashton?” You ask, confused. He can see the tears in your eyes and any other time, that’d stop him.

“Go home to Logan…” he murmurs, “you’ll never be mine and I’m not ok with second best any more.”

“You were never second best.” You whisper, biting your lip, holding back tears.

“I was never gonna be the one you chose.” He shrugs. “And I’ve accepted that.” He turns on his heel to walk away.

“I came here to choose you.” You whisper to his back.

If you would like to be tagged when I post, make sure you get added to the new tag list!

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#a million little times #yes it is named from a taylor swift song #we have a legacy here #she's angsty #cass #cass+crystal #ashton irwin #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #ashton irwin fic

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another-fckn-incorrect-svt-blog · 4 years

Note

im a new carat and trying to learn seventeen's names and everything. are there any fandom inside jokes and songs by them that you can reccomend to me?? :D

Oh Hello new carat!!! Welcome to the family!

Hmmm lemme think how best to answer this - I know there are a good number of really good ‘Guide to Svt’ videos on youtube so I super recommend those!! Here is my (abbreviated) intro to the members, including some of my favorite moments from each: Seungcheol: Leader but also Baby. An absolute sweetheart, would die to protect this man. Favorite meme moments include when he ate a whole tube of toothpaste to keep the other members from getting it, his Dorky Dad Dancing or his ‘YAWAWOOOO!’.

Jeonghan: I call him Con Artist because he is. This boy is so Clever, and I relate to him because I too attempt to cheat at every game. He is one half of the Evil Twins who like to (lovingly) bully Seungcheol. Favorite moments include Every Time he’s cheated in a game and how willing he is to sleep at Any Time.

Joshua: Acts like a gentleman, is just as evil as his twin. Don’t believe the ‘church boy’ image PLEDIS tried to push for him. Favorite meme moments include his ‘sexy’ dance and... whatever went on when he was inflating a bottle with his nose.

Junhui: My bias, I love this boy Literally so much. He’s a bit of a shy bean but he’s also Weird As Fuck. Favorite moments include the strange dubbing videos he kept posting where he was providing voices for corgis and other animals, his excitement over his hot dog cooking machine and every time he mirrors whatever the others are doing (it’s really cute).

Soonyoung: Performance leader, absolute Meme, the Ultimate Gemini (legit he is gemini in Every house). Fun fact I want to fight him because he jumped in front of me at a random dance play and scared the SHIT out of me. Kind of a furry but we love him for it. Favorite moments include breaking into Jihoon’s studio to record a song about tigers & that time he almost fought some sasaengs.

Wonwoo: Probably in possession of SVT’s only braincell except it also goes on vacation sometimes. A beautiful, intelligent and sensitive nerd who I would commit crimes to protect. Favorite meme is definitely his line in Home where Carats all yell back at him in a super deep voice. Also his ‘hamburger’ aegyo is fucking cute.

Jihoon: Vocal leader, Genius Producer, literal definition of Tsundere. Probably has the braincell whenever Wonwoo doesn’t. He writes and produces nearly all of SVT’s songs - we STAN a hardworking man. Favorite meme moments include when he tried to hit Mingyu with a guitar and when he dodged everyone’s hugs onstage and ended up lifting one of the others over his shoulder.

Mingyu: The gentle giant, world’s biggest puppy dog. Essentially a real-life mary su - handsome, talented, but extremely clumsy. Can do no wrong, please protect him from himself. Favorite moments include every single time he’s dropped or broken something on camera, or his ‘AKITA SOUND!!!’

Seokmin: Someone help this boy I love him so much but he has No Braincells. Negative Braincells. But it’s okay because he’s so pure and sweet and has one of if not The most powerful voice in kpop. Favorite moments include when he touched some noodles and was so shook that his soul left his body, or just his general Screaming.

Minghao: A wine-drinking eboy art hoe and we Love him for it. Our fashion king, models everywhere are Shaking. Drops some Wisdom Bombs every now and then, we stan a woke king. Favorite moments include doing acrobatics out of Nowhere without his glasses even falling off, and every time he’s So Done with Jun.

Seungkwan: The world’s sassiest and yet sweetest angel, an absolute Icon. Like Seokmin probably has some of the most powerful vocals in kpop, but is also an absolute Variety King. Comedians everywhere have nothing on this boy. Favorite moments include at the Ode To You tour where any time a member talked too long he yelled ‘IT’S NOT YOUR SOLO CONCERT!’ and his outrage over someone else getting Beyonce as their meyer’s briggs type.

Vernon: This boy. A living meme. Also a fashion icon but in like. The opposite direction from Minghao. Everything he does is so fucking funny how does he do it? Also super sweet and has the best heart. Favorite moments include all his Meme reactions, and when he and Joshua went bungee jumping.

Chan: The future of kpop. An absolute ball of talent and passion, puts 120% into everything he does. Can do Anything, be Anything, and we will support him 120%. Favorite moments include all of his Dino’s Danceology’s, and the absolute regret on his face every time he’s forced to say he’s Jeonghan’s Baby until he’s 30.

And now for some of my favorite songs!

Title Tracks - Hit, Fear, Clap, Getting Closer, Adore U

Ot13 b-sides - Good to Me, Holiday, Crazy in Love, Snapshoot, My My

Japanese Tracks - 24H, Fallin’ Flower, Call Call Call

Unit songs - Change up (Leader line), My I (China line), Rocket (American line), Just Do It (Booseoksoon), Lilili yabbay (Performance Team), Don’t Listen in Secret (Vocal Team), Check In (Hip Hop team)

Sorry this got so long, I hope it was somewhat helpful or at least amusing! Again welcome to the family - in my experience Carats are one of the most welcoming & friendly fandoms, so I hope you enjoy your time here and with seventeen!!

#chet talks #hush up chet #long post for ts #long post //#Anonymous

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gallivantingheart · 4 years

Photo

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 6: mulan ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1717

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: i have no reason as to the TWO WEEK wait, but i still hope it’s okay. Also, I know nothing of international politics or table etiquette, don’t @ me

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui,

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonhee follows you with eagle eyes as you circle the dining room, elaborate table setting laid out along with decorative lemon themed table centrepieces.

“And who sits next to France?”

You rush to answer, not facing her. “Belgium. Like on the map, because France and Germany don’t get along politically.”

“And across from Germany?” She calls, idly adjusting forks and spoons.

“Thai - uh, Spain, sorry. Thailand is next to Spain, before myself. Then Soonyoung and yourself at the head of the table, north.”

You pause to turn and wait for Soonhee to assess your answer. She’s dressed in a silky champagne two piece blazer and skirt, her blouse designed with a high neckline and thin necktie. The click of her heels are a constant, reminding you of a metronome - just to torment you a little more. She nods, finally.

“I didn’t quite ask for all of that, but yes. You are correct. Have you had your final fitting? You must be presentable before the attendees. Reputation and first impressions are vital.”

You bite the bottom of your lip, nodding. “I had it the day before last. Everything is as ready as can be.”

“Hmmm. You are dismissed. I suggest you study on the conversation topics from last week and compose yourself before tomorrow. Please be here at 1pm, sharp. Antoni insists on natural light and I wish to be ready as early as possible.” Soonhee still doesn’t look at you when she speaks.

As much as it makes your blood boil from the aloof and disparaging manner in which she speaks to you - and only you, it seems - you push down any unpleasant urges against her. She’s a queen; a ruler of a country. No doubt not used to her opinion being challenged, much less by someone your age. There are better things to utilise your energy on rather than fighting the brick wall that is your grandmother.

“Yes, grandma.” You’ll still push the envelope and call ther that though, something a little less formal for the times. “See you tomorrow.”

You instantly turn out the room, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. Those dreadful heels click hastily after you.

“And no socialising tonight! We can’t afford any bad press or late nights for anyone.”

Her voice has never been loud but it carries remarkably well. You huff and jam your phone away, a chicken and drinks session with the boys off the cards. Mingyu is out of town on another holiday with family, so it would have been Minghao and Jun, your fellow foodies.

Despite the early bedtime, you can’t seem to sleep, tossing and turning, tangling yourself in your sheets. You hope Antoni is as good at hiding sleepless nights as he is at shaping eyebrows.

The dress is beautiful, of course. (You had the wine gang help you choose over text. Secretly, of course.)

And while you’re still sceptical of Antoni after the debacle he caused concerning your identity, he blathers on and on in apologies as he pins and fiddles with your hair so you don’t mind too much by the end of it all. Soonhee seems to think he’s redeemed himself - the queen’s word is law. Soonyoung looks super chic in his blazer and turtleneck. You pout at him in his fashionable attire no one else in their stuffy suits appears to bat an eye at.

“Soonie you look great.” You say from the bottom step of the main staircase - grand entrance and all.

He can’t help but preen. “Thanks, as do you, Boss.”

“Gross. But I look like a glitzed up puffball. If I had known that it could have been more casual I-”

The queen cuts off your whining as she glides over in a gauzy ivory gown, crown glittering with every light fixture. “Y/N. Very appropriate. Soonyoung, handsome as always. Are you sure you don’t have my genes?”

What? A - A joke? Where? You have to forcibly shut your mouth from the conversation in front of you. Soonyoung has a steady dancers’ posture - or maybe just a royal one. Straight spine, relaxed held back shoulders and a level gaze. You twist your fist in the many layers of your skirt, to both hide and release the frustrating tension radiating through you. The ambassador laughs, fluffing shyly at his bleach blonde fringe.

“Oh, ahaha. Your Majesty, no. No, I do not.” He mumbles.

You dip yourself in a short bow before dodging the pair in order to attempt to mingle. Droning conversation topics flick through your mind, like forcing the pages of a book. Finally, you set your sights on the Swedish ambassador, if only to talk about Eurovision - the one fun subject allowed to be discussed with you.

You find though, that most of the conversations you attend cycle through the same process. The notice of your presence and an introduction between you all - ministers, ambassadors and their companions. Then a resuming of the current conversation, you being too afraid of looking stupid to add any effective input. You have to bite back a sigh of relief when dinner is announced.

Soonyoung is right. You need a spoon for the cool soup served. He flicks the edge of the one you are supposed to use and you kick his ankle in thanks. The conversations from the foyer are carried into the dining space and you lose India to Thailand. Soonyoung is chatting avidly with Scotland across from him, his hands gesturing from their place on the table cloth. Despite this, main course goes swimmingly, a chicken lemon dish on rice with a hint of garlic and herbs. You hesitate on your chopsticks before picking up a knife and fork like most of the other dignitaries. You feel eyes on you and glance over to see Soonhee evaluating you from the head of the table. She still manages to look severe to you, even with the amicable situation - but maybe you’re just imagining things.

It’s when dessert is around the corner that it falls apart. Spain’s representative, a lovely man named Eduardo is discussing the lemon market of Amaide with you, something you are luckily very proficient with. As you speak, you demonstrate the incline of the market, you tip your water glass over. The elder man, easily in his fifties, smiles warmly and lets you fix it up with an apology to him and the waiter on hand to clean it up. Thailand’s eyes squint at you dubiously and you bow back to them. You describe the style of orchard the royal lemon ceremony is held in, gesturing over your shoulder at the Queen Mother, and the critical breeding of the trees that grow all over the country. A stray hand wave collides with the melting ice bucket with a clang, tipping it sideways… all over Eduardo. Now the pleasant man is drenched from head to toe, Portugal catching the spray and flying bottle of champagne. Thailand is awash as well, nowhere near as bad, but he seems to seize up in panic, dabbing and pressing at his shoulders and sleeves. The dining room is in a commotion now as you bite your lips and frown, grabbing your own napkin to dry down the man next to you. Your hair is damp, slowly going fluffy and frizzy from the water. People are standing up, including yourself and Soonhee.

“I-I-I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy! Are-are you okay, Eduardo?” You protest.

He shoots you a severe look, only tempered by the reputation of every single person in the room. Obviously not. You chew harshly at your lip as the waiters fuss and someone talks quietly about offering a change of clothes.

You look around the dying chaos - even Soonhee is amongst it, joining in on the many dabbing gingerly at the spanish ambassador’s suit with a napkin. Soonyoung catches your eye as you slink backwards towards the ajar french doors, leaning over to the waiter.

“If anyone asks, I’ve gone to the power room, okay? I-I, uh, shouldn't be too long.” You murmur out the corner of your mouth.

He glances at you, nodding. Soonyoung frowns, gesturing with a discreet finger back to his side. You shake your head, signalling a time-out. You hike up your skirts the moment you turn the corner, clacking down the dim hallway as fast as you can to pick up your purse from the cloak room. Making a detour, you go for the east bathroom, in favour of the north one closer to the dining room.

Slamming the door behind you and locking it, you turn the toilet lid down to sit on it for a moment. A time which gets longer and longer the more you worry your lips to oblivion, thinking on your next move. There is no salvaging what you just did. Humiliating yourself, your victims and the Queen Mother - and by extension, your entire country. No. Surely you couldn’t stay. But how to get out of the embassy without causing more of a fuss? You check the time. Only forty minutes left of the dinner anyway. They couldn’t miss you while still cleaning up. Your stomach turns and lurches heavily, so you turn to press your face into the cool tiled wall.

So, leave. But to where?

No one was in the city, having gone away for the break. Certainly not just home. You wanted just a moment away from everything. You peek your head out into the empty hallway. There is an employee exit next to the kitchens - only the cctv would see you then. But where to? Jihoon? Would he still be around? Would he be okay with seeing you?

You set up a ride for the university before making a break for it, gasping as you lose a bracelet, snagged on the curled handle of the door. Punching in the default entry code, you power walk over the concrete and gravel out to the side street as a little green bug of a car pulls up.

The window winds down to show a man in his early 30’s. “Ride for Y/n?”

“That’s me. Thanks.”

You glance back over your shoulder, through the wrought iron gates to the deadly still building. Jumping in, you tug your long, fluffy skirt in after you.

Bonus

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #seventeen woozi #seventeen jihoon #mapsu fic #written

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

By the king’s hand 🐍 III

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers. (This chapter: oral)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You await the king’s next move.

Note: One day off. Managed to get this done!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

When at last you managed to look away from the likeness of the imperious king, you tried to sit. You found it hard to stay still however and instead, paced the expanse of the chamber. You stopped at the tall windows to look out onto the palace lawns, a glimpse of the city visible beyond the walls. Would you ever see the other side of them again?

You looked down at yourself as you swept away from the glass panes. The gaudy gown made you grimace and you went back to your restless strides. You rung your hands and made yourself stop, fidgeted with the thin fabric that swished around your legs, and squinted closely at the few pieces of miscellany scattered on tables; a few pens, a ring, and a bound book.

The sound of boots came muffled from the corridor and you turned as the doors shifted. The guard without pushed inward and stood back as the king swept past him. You stopped behind the sofa and watched Loki as he didn’t seem aware of your presence. A boy, about fifteen or so, followed at his heels and barely evaded the snap of the doors as they shut.

You bowed and waited for his acknowledgement. You received none as you kept your head down and followed him with strained eyes as he crossed to the set of doors painted with winding snakes. The young boy opened them and the king disappeared beyond them, though they remained ajar.

You waited, hands folded, chin lowered, and listened. The soft rustle of clothing, the ruffle of activity unseen. It was a time before the king bid away his servant.

“Go.” His voice slithered through the silence, “Fetch my dinner, boy.”

You held your breath as the adolescent emerged and swiftly crossed to the other doors. He left you there and another deathly hush rose around you, laced with anticipation and impatience. You heard soft footsteps approach the open doorway and halt upon the threshold.

“Little mouse,” the king said cloyingly, “You might stand up straight now.”

You bit down and raised your head. Your eyes met his as he smirked across at you. He wore a deep green robe embroidered with golden serpents, tied loosely at his waist to allow a glimpse of his pale torso. His silk pants were loose as finely stitched slippers poked out from beneath the hems. His crown did not top his locks as they hung loosely along his shoulders.

“Why, you do look much recovered,” he purred as he casually pushed away form the doorframe, “Better, even.” He did not come close, merely went to the table and pulled out a chair to perch. He slung a leg over the other as he bent an elbow on the tabletop. “I was, most irritatingly, called away to council.”

You were quiet. You stayed on the other side of the couch as if it were a barricade from his lingering gaze.

“Come closer,” he beckoned with two fingers, “I should like a proper look at… the gown.”

You hesitated. Your flesh, though healing, was still tender along your back. You went to him with careful steps and stopped a foot away from him. He looked you up and down. He reached out and his fingers closed around your wrist and he drew you between his legs as he uncrossed them.

His fingertips flew quickly to the beading along your bodice and he traced the curve of your side. He hummed as he peered up at you, your chest obscuring you slightly.

“Hmmm, I think I preferred you naked and chained,” he snickered. “Do you feel me still? Is the lesson still seared into your flesh, little mouse?”

Your lip curled and you swallowed. You nodded.

“Speak, when you are addressed by your king.” He demanded.

“Yes, your majesty,” you uttered, “The marks remain.”

He bunched your skirts in his hands and bared your thighs. He tickled your skin and pushed firmly to knead the muscle.

“Alas, I did send for my supper and I would not the boy happen upon my little games,” his thumb grazed the crease of your pelvis, “He is innocent and easily frightened.”

You stood, tolerant of his touch, as you felt a peculiar tingle inside. Disgust laced with something more; something you wanted to deny. His hands dropped reluctantly and he shifted in his seat.

“You will sit and eat. I understand you did little of that during your internment,” he said sharply, “I suspect it is the reason you had to be dragged out of there. That I did need to charge my staff with reviving you.”

“Must be the reason,” you muttered as you sat in the other chair across from him. You caught the gleam in his eye. “Your majesty.”

“Throughout your tenure here, thus far, I’ve a chance to learn more of the errant trespasser,” he preened, “Your uncle, Bo, he is a crafter and a merchant. You were charged with shaping clay pots for his shelf. Your little friend, Gilla, she is a baker’s daughter. I did not care much for her though.”

“Gilla…” you repeated quietly. “You…”

“I did not harm her. I only asked her some questions.”

The door opened suddenly and he sat up. The boy was accompanied by two other servants who set out wine, glasses, and plates. The flurry of activity departed as quickly as it had arrived and you were left alone once more with the king.

“She’s a talkative one but she does not say much of substance,” he mused as he took his fork, “But I still learned much.”

“Oh?” You twirled your fork anxiously.

“Nothing more than I couldn’t surmise on my own,” he shrugged, “I’ve come to realise your obstinacy.” He mused, “And let me say, that will not hold and I do look forward to testing it.”

You frowned and he bit into a morsel of pork. He chewed and swallowed emphatically.

“Oh, that look,” he pointed at you with his fork, “It assured me I am right.”

🐍

Your stomach was both happy and sore from the meal. It had been long since you had eaten much more than broth and hard bread, if anything at all. While the food was delicious, the circumstance was less than. You found it less than hospitable to be under the gaze of the king. Though he was not so intent, his eyes returned often enough to make you worry. You were wise enough to know that when the meal was over, there would be no pretense left, though you could not guess exactly at what he meant to do.

The young boy, who he called Hal, cleared the table and left another bottle of wine in his stead. Loki poured another glass for himself and glanced at the one you’d barely touched.

“I’d suggest you drink but truly it makes no difference to me,” he winked as he took a gulp of his own. “But you do seem rather… antsy.”

You said nothing and took the glass. You drank deeply and nearly spluttered. You drained the cup and placed it back on the table.

“I do not enjoy your ploys, your majesty, I would prefer you be to the point,” you said, “I am not na��ve and the idea would be entirely unknown to you.”

“Ploys? To the point? I haven’t an idea of what you mean, little mouse.”

You drew your brows together and blinked. “If you long to see me squirm, I already am.”

“Oh, I do see it but I will not be done with you so quickly,” he threw back the last of his glass and set it beside your own, “Come.”

He took your head and led you to the door of his bedchamber. You had the urge to stop before you could enter but let him guide you. The black drapings of his bed, the silver sheets, and the lush pillows assured you of your fate. You knew what would come but you could not fathom the extent of his cruelty.

It was said that it hurt the first time for maidens. You suspected the pain would be worse with him. He didn’t make anything easy. He always added to any discomfort. He pleasured in it.

“Squirming, shaking, or shivering, mouse?” he wondered as he neared the bed and you trailed behind him. He tugged you onward. “Is it fear? It must be for there is no draft.”

“Stop, stop, please,” you said breathily, “Do not draw this out any further.”

He tilted his head as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He released you and untied his robe and lifted himself to drag the tails from under him. He tossed it away and sprawled across the mattress with a sigh. He sidled over and bent an arm behind his head. You tried to ignore the bulge in his silk pants as he rubbed the space beside him.

“I had the impression that you already slept for quite a time but… I suppose the dungeon still takes a toll,” he remarked, “Lay down, little mouse. You might put out the light before you do.”

You looked around and went to the lamp on the round table in the corner. You blew it out and the silver slats of moonlight lit your path back to the bed. You slid your slippers off before you touched the woven blanket. You lifted a knee onto the mattress and the king gripped your wrist again. He pulled you down against him in a single motion.

“I am rather tired. My day did stretch on,” he said as he nestled you against him. His other hand went down and rested over his crotch. He rubbed himself and groaned. “A good night’s sleep would do us both well.”

He retracted his hand and pulled your arm across his torso. The taut muscles of his stomach were warm against your skin and sent a tickle along your spin.

“The nights of late summer do tend to grow chilly,” he reached over and played with the embroidery of your bodice. “And I find myself restless.”

He let out a long breath and the tension left his body. You laid in silence, eyes wide as you waited for him to do something. Anything. A rumble went through his chest and made you flinch. He chuckled.

“In due time, little mouse,” he promised, “Our games are not over yet.”

🐍

You didn’t recall dozing but you awoke gently to stirring beside you. The king slipped his arm from beneath you carefully. You were surprised by his caution. The bed moved slightly as he shimmied to the other side and stood. He moved in the dark as you remained as you were.

He rounded the bed and paused. He slid his hand along your thigh, your skirts tangled in your legs. He drew away and you listened to him retreat to the bath chamber. There was the subtle swish of water and dainty activity beyond. You wanted to fall back asleep and escape the odd reality.

Then you heard more. A low groan that soon grew to laboured breaths. It went on for several minutes. You crushed your head into the pillow as you tried not to listen. A stifled grunt ended the illicit rhythm. Another sigh.

He didn’t emerge for a few more minutes. He went into the receiving chamber and you heard the other set of doors creak. Shortly, you heard the thin voice of the boy, Hal, and the king returned to let the boy dress him. You watched him by his shadow in the early morning light.

“Go to Birger and fetch the rest of the girl’s wardrobe,” he bid, “I expect that all will be put away before my return. Bring her some food when she wakes and ask Birger to help you, should you require it.” The king strode to the door and stopped again, “And make sure the guards remain on watch. She is more trouble than she seems.”

You laid still until you were certain they were gone, though Hal remained in the receiving chamber. You wouldn’t fall back asleep. You were too on edge. So you stared up at the ceiling and brushed your arm over the spot where Loki had slept beside you.

It hadn’t been at all what you expected. It was like you were holding your breath, waiting for the tension to snap the branch beneath you. Waiting for Loki to be just who you knew him to be. The king who had lashed you in the dungeon, the arrogant prince who demanded and got all that he wanted.

When you dared to rise and poked your head out into the next chamber, the boy hopped up from where he sat before the hearth. You were careful not to take long steps as the skirt threatened to bare more than you wanted.

“You don’t have to,” you waved him down, “I can tend to myself.”

“I must bring your morning meal,” he insisted. “As the king wishes.”

“The king,” you mulled as you took a seat at the table, “Is he kind to you?”

He narrowed his eyes and thought, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose he is crueler to others so yes.”

“That is hardly kindness,” you said.

“I’ve had worse masters,” Hal replied. “And less rich.”

You nodded and ran your fingernail along the tabletop. “Well then…” You tapped the wood, “Go on then.”

The boy left and you let out your breath. You hung your head and rubbed your eyes. You listened to the morning birds and the breeze in the leaves. You knew the calm would give way soon to a great storm.

🐍

After you picked at a hard-boiled egg and some rashers, Hal returned with Birgir. They carried a large chest between them and set it down heavily before a painted armoire in the bedchamber. You watched as they hung the silks, satins, and brocades. Slippers were placed along the lower shelves and a few cloaks slung alongside the numerous gowns.

Birger bid you change your outfit and you placated him if only to rid yourself of his disapproval. You dressed in a burgundy dress with a similar cut as the first. None offered much more coverage, often less, and you scowled at the thought of donning them. You tucked your feet into a pair of slippers and washed your face of the make-up that remained from the previous day.

You were once more alone and left to languish in the king’s empty chambers. You thought of the dungeon. At least that was not a farce. At least the dank, dripping depths did not try to disguise your sentence.

You pulled the curtains back from the glass doors in the bedchamber. A balcony stood without as the sun peaked. You slowly turned the curved handle and pulled them open. You stepped out tentatively and looked around. You inhaled the scent of the wind and pollen. You hadn’t been outside in so long that you were overcome with nostalgia, with longing and dread.

Would you ever know what it was to run across the grass again? To watch the rivers flow and dream of following them?

You went to the rail and looked down at the trimmed lawns and their pristine hedges and the beds of colourful buds. Birds danced along the rims of the fountain and other critters dove in and out of the maze of greenery. You leaned your elbows on the marble rail and stared down. It was far; far enough to kill.

You looked at the balcony, at the slates of the railing, at any foothold that might be found along the wall. You bent further over as you tried to spy those below and if they were close enough to land. Your thoughts ventured to escape, as risky as it might be, and you were want to laugh at your foolishness.

You felt something in your skirts, then a firm grip on your ankles. Suddenly you were tipped over the edge and you cried out as you were certain you would plummet to your death. You grabbed onto the marble slats as you we held dangling over the rail and you looked up at your accoster.

The king guffawed at your fear as you clung to the side of the balcony and slowly pulled your feet back over to the other side. His hand slid up your leg and ass and he grabbed the back of your bodice as he drew you up straight. He caught your hand before you could slap him.

“Now, now,” his hand crushed yours, “Did we not already learn this lesson?”

“You could’ve killed me!” You whined.

“I could’ve. And still could,” he smirked as he trapped you against the rail. “There is much I could do to you.”

You stared at him in disgust as he pressed his body to yours. His hand went to your chin and he framed your face with his long fingers.

“I could bend you back over this bannister and let my kingdom hear what it is I want to do to you,” he sneered. “Gods, the thought has me harder than last eve.”

He dragged his thumb over to your lips and poked inside your mouth. You resisted for a moment, until it hurt, and he pressed down on your tongue.

“If you were to be on your knees, no one should see you,” he said, “They wouldn’t know why it was you kneel before me…”

You swallowed as your stomach filled with bile. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and took a step back.

“So on your knees for your king,” he pushed apart the tails of his overcoat and lifted the bottom of his tunic as he unlaced his trousers, “I’ve been rather patient and it is not a habit I know well.”

You stared in aghast as he rubbed himself through his trousers and winced. His eyes flicked back to you and his face darkened.

“I said ‘on your knees’,” he barked, “Little mouse, you must really start obeying me or I shall have to repeat that lesson.”

You slowly bent your leg and rigidly got down to your knees. He pushed open the front of his trousers and stepped close. You stared at the ground as he pulled himself free and stroked his length. He grabbed your chin again and forced your head up. You tried not to look at his member bobbing in your vision.

“Open that trite little mouth. I will make better use of it than your bitter words,” he squeezed and you gasped at the sharp twinge it sent through your skull.

You opened your mouth and he pressed his tip to your lips. He rested it there and rubbed it back and forth teasingly. You closed your eyes and he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers.

“No, no, keep those eyes open,” he demanded, “They look so nice staring up at me.” He slid slowly inside your mouth, “So frightened. I daresay, you look, almost, innocent.”

He pushed further in until he was at your throat. You gagged and he went deeper with a snicker. He gripped your head with one head as he thrust to his limit and your eyes welled as you struggled to breathe around him. You’d never done anything with a man more than a playful peck on the lips. You never spent very much time thinking of more.

He eased you back and you took a deep gulp of air before he invaded your throat again. The sickly noise of your spit and his member was repulsive. His eyes held yours as he moved his hips slowly and you latched onto his belt to keep from slipping.

“Little mouse, I only hope your mouth is an omen of what else you have to offer,” he purred as he rocked his pelvis, “A delight…”

Each thrust felt deeper than the last, harder, faster. His groans rose in the warm air as he was encouraged by his own voice. He grew louder as your eyes threatened to roll back and his face contorted in his pleasure. He kept a hand on your jaw and the other on the back of your head as he used your mouth.

You were dizzy as his intrusion felt as if it would never end. He threw his head back and you dared to close your eyes as your mouth turned salty. His voice rose louder and louder and filled your head. He dipped down your throat and his motion staggered. He gripped you tightly and moaned as he emptied himself down your throat.

He grunted with his few final jerks and pulled out sharply. He released you just as quickly and you fell to the side as he backed away and panted. You coughed his seed up onto the stone as he watched you. You could feel his shadow as he neared and you looked up as he cradled his glistening member.

“You’ve made such a mess, little mouse,” he reproached, “I shall forgive it this time, but the next, you won’t muddy my floors so.”

You choked as you sat back on your heels and stared at him with wet eyes. Your throat ached horribly and your head still spun.

“Go on, clean me up, darling,” he looked down at his cock in his hand. “I suspect I am late already.”

You shoved your repulsion down and neared him on your knees. He angled his tip back to your lips and you took him again in your mouth. You pressed your tongue to his member and slowly pulled back as you lapped up the last of his cum. He guided you up and down a few times and relented once more.

He parted from you again, content, and tucked himself away in his trousers. As he laced himself up, he cleared his throat.

“Well, little mouse, I will say, I’ve done little for my patience,” he chuckled, “I do suggest you might have some wine before I return again… it is said to dull the pain.” He neatened his tunic and overcoat and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I promise, there will be a lot of pain.

#loki #loki x reader #king!loki #fic #series #by the king's hand #medieval au #medieval #medieval!au #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #dark!loki

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softbluefanfiction · 4 years

Text

Truce

When I first started writing this fic, I accidentally deleted the first 2000 words and had to restart, that wasn't very nice, but I pulled through and really I hope you enjoy!

The insults. The accusations. Constantly having to defend himself. Having to play nice. It was all getting to be too much for Janus, but he had no choice but to handle it. He needed to take it in order to help Thomas, and eventually it would stop. Until then though...

"Your slippery sarcasm scale is why we are in this mess in the first place!" Roman yelled, pointing an accusing finger.

"Yeah, for real, Thomas" Virgil spat, "how can you still not see him for what he is?"

"And what would that be, dear Anxiety?" His stomach twisted as he spoke; it was tough to fight with him on a good day, but Virgil had also declared that he wasn't going to use Janus's name and that Janus wasn't allowed to use his. The only reason he agreed was to stop a fight, but in hindsight, it seemed to have not caused any release of tension from the group.

"A monster-"

"Woah! That's a bit strong, don't you think, Verg? Maybe we can take a second-" Thomas tried.

"No, it's not!" Virgil snapped. "he's been lying and deceiving us from the start, and now his advice has cost us a friendship!"

A few weeks ago, Thomas had come to them with a moral dilemma about two acting jobs. One was for a friend's production and would have meant a great deal to said friend if Thomas had taken the part. The other was a more prestigious role that Thomas has been working towards for a long while, alongside that Thomas didn't have much experience with the genre and really wanted to test himself; it also paid more. Janus had gone for the obvious choice with Logan on his side. He then won over Patton; given that other people were lined up to audition, his friend wouldn't have been shorthanded. He knew Roman secretly wanted to do the more challenging thing. It was easy after that.

"I hardly believe that that is a reasonable conclusion, Virgil." Logan slid in next to Janus, much to the latter's relief. A small genuine smile came across his face as Logan began to defend him. It always took him by such surprise; he never thought he'd be on speaking terms with the other after what he did, impersonating him. Now they had begun to quite enjoy each other's company and Logan defended him, often without hesitation: "when was it you said this play was, Thomas?"

"Uh, I went to it last week, but it ran the rest of the week too."

"And when and how frequently have you contacted this person?"

"Once that night and a couple of times today, but he still hasn't responded. He was also weird after the play, I mean we barely spoke!"

"Hence the 'issue' at hand," Janus said with air quotes and Roman positively fumed.

"Wipe that smile off your face, you deceitful dick!" He snapped and everyone in the room seemed as taken aback as Janus was.

"Running out of insults, are we, Roman?" He sneered.

"No, you...you... snake!" he shouted, still pointing an accusatory finger.

Both he and Logan rolled their eyes as Logan continued. "So, based on the fact that you have texted them during and after a busy week and they have not responded as well as being distant during a very busy production, you are concluding that they no longer wish to be your companion? Thomas, you must see that that is a bit of an extreme conclusion?"

Thomas and Vigil took a deep breath together. "Yeah, I'm sorry Logan, you're right. I should wait a minute before ringing the alarm bell."

"The figurative one I assume; although that might be an interesting way to improve the safety of your home, it would be unnecessary as the fire alarms are already operating."

"That doesn't change anything, they could be-" before Virgil could continue, Thomas's phone buzzed.

"Oh, who could that be?" Janus asked.

Thomas spoke sheepishly, looking apologetically at Janus and Logan. "It's them, they're sorry that they haven't been able to talk much and wanna go out to lunch some time."

"Well, then," Logan said with a self satisfied sigh, "if that is all I'll bid you a good night, and Thomas, remember to check your calendar before making plans."

"Okay, Logan, thank you!" Thomas rubbed the back of his neck as Logan sunk out.

"Hmmm, would you look at that, despite my villainous influences on Thomas's decision making everything turned out fine! How could this possibly be?" Janus gasped with mock shock, bringing a gloved hand to his mouth.

"This doesn't change anything, you're still-"

"Virgil," Thomas voice was a bit raised but he took a deep breath and softened, "Virgil, its okay."

The anxious side struggled for a moment, seeming to have more to say, but then simply huffed and sunk out with Roman ready to take his place in the fight.

Before that argument could move any further he held up a hand, and looked at his host. "I will see you later Thomas, don't hesitate to call if you need me." He sunk out with a calm smile from Thomas and fuming rage from Roman.

After he was back in the mindscape's living room, his shoulders slumped and his face fell before he realized that he was not alone and put on his mask once more. Every cell in his body fought against not being able to just relax, but he pushed those feelings away, making his way into the kitchen.

He was no longer going to stay in the room, but was still going to take a bottle of wine up to his bedroom. He felt like he deserved a little help to unwind.

Virgil spoke up as he looped back from the kitchen to make his way up the stairs: "I know what you're doing!" He growled.

"Do you now?" Janus huffed, he'd had too much today already and mostly responded on instinct. He hoped Virgil would just drop it so he could get onto staying in his room the rest of the night.

"I do, and I'm not going to let you hurt him!"

Janus let out an exasperated sigh and spun around at the top of the staircase. "Do you ever think I've tried so hard to get to Thomas because I care for him and want to help him?!" He meant to be snide in order to get Virgil to understand while not being vulnerable, but his voice failed him at the end, cracking.

That gave Virgil pause but he strode on. "It doesn't matter what you think you're doing. You're deceit and all you are going to do is hurt Thomas."

Janus just huffed and walked away, face turning red at his outburst. He had avoided reacting out of pure feeling since his low blow with Roman, but it seemed like they knew just how to get on his nerves and wanted him to fail so badly. He wouldn't have been surprised if that was a genuine scheme of theirs, to hit him where it hurts until he finally shows his true colors or whatever. They'd done worse.

Hot tears burned at the back of his eyes but he swallowed them down. He would not cry because of them. They would not hurt him, he was better than that and if it meant he could have Thomas's attention then they didn't matter.

But this was getting to be exhausting. The punches were coming just as hard as before and seemed to hurt worse and worse. Virgil's always stung, but the attacks were getting more and more personal. Roman was nothing compared to that, but the last few weeks every time it seemed that they were getting somewhere he'd redouble his efforts at getting under Janus' skin.

They were also in cahoots to not let him be alone with Thomas, and for a while, Patton. He actually began to get a stomach ache every time he went to go visit either, even starting to avoid them entirely before they both realized what was up and told the other two off. They could still interrupt if they found a good enough reason and used it as an excuse, which left Janus with much apprehension.

Their efforts also left him with conclusions that he was barely allowing to cross his mind, but he felt them pushing against the edges, threatening to burst out. About how Virgil and Roman are a part of Thomas and what their sentiment means about what Thomas thinks of him.

He shook himself out of his reverie and poured a glass of wine, sitting on his bed to sip at it.

His suit felt itchy and he knew he probably needed a shower. Last week he shed and that was just delightful, as always. He was more than grumpy and expected it to ruin all he had worked for but everyone was actually exceptional about the whole situation. Even Roman. It was another time he thought he might've gotten through to him but absolutely didn't. Either way, he was onto the last of it and one more good soak would do him some good.

He felt like a 60's housewife drinking wine in the bath but usually it could fix almost any issue so he wasn't willing to give it up. This time, he felt himself relax a bit, but instead of his worries washing away he felt them pressing down on him still, as if held at arm's length but ready to pounce at any moment; but in all honesty, it could just be the wine relaxing him.

He got done with a few glasses before he heard a knock on the door. "One second." Janus jumped out of the tub and carefully dried himself off and, for force of habit, assumed Remus would be behind the door, simply wrapping a towel around himself to answer it.

Which is how he caused one Patton Sanders to let out a rather loud "Oh, my!" when he opened the door, turning a shade of red that Janus did not think possible.

"Oh, my...um," Janus echoed, closing the door to cover most of himself peeking his head out. "You'll have to excuse me Patton, I had assumed you were Remus, did you need something?"

Patton was decidedly looking everywhere besides Janus, eyes curiously flitting back to his bare chest every few glances, but he really was doing his best to not look, it made Janus smile and giggle drunkenly, "You can look at me, it's fine."

They had been tipsy together before and Patton had admitted he was mad at Roman and Virgil's behavior and when that topic shifted away, feeling like he should offer something as well, he had admitted that his scales often made him feel foreign and out of place. Patton said he thought they were pretty and Janus couldn't believe that was true, and said as much. That's probably not what the moral side was currently thinking of at that moment, he belatedly realized, but didn't much care.

Patton swallowed and leveled his eyes on his counterpart's face, every few words his eyes would stray for a few moments but snap back up after realizing what had occurred. "Right, um, I just wanted to invite you to movie night at 9, um, and Thomas will be there too!"

And Roman and Virgil. "Don't wait up for me," He said after a minute of thought, he would think about though "sorry, Patton."

"No, no, it's okay!" He could tell it wasn't, but couldn't think of what to say so they just sat there awkwardly for a moment.

"Hey, daddy!" Remus saved them. "if you two wanna fuck I can leave." He laughed as Patton sputtered, walking up to them and placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Remus, please, you'll break him," Janus rubbed his face to stop his own laugh, keeping his tone exasperated "my apologies again Patton, have a good night!"

"Yeah, um, see you at the movie Remus" He whispered, running off as fast as possible.

"You're invited?" Janus asked, shocked. He didn't know that any of the others tolerated him, including Thomas, just that they accepted that they couldn't just ignore him.

"Oh, pfft, no!" Remus laughed, pushing into the room and shutting the door behind him, "I just showed up and nobodies told me to fuck off yet, so im still showing up!" Remus wrapped his arms around Janus' waist, leading him to the bed and leaning in for a kiss.

"It seems as though they have come to expect you!" Janus murmurs against Remus' lips. He allows the conversation to drift away when the other doesn't respond, pulling them both down over his bed. They curled up there, Remus laying on top of the other with his head nuzzled into his neck, the towel that Janus was wearing forgotten.

Their relationship had changed drastically in the last while since Virgil left. They had both come to find each other in the dark sides commons one night and opened up about missing Virgil. It was the first time either of them had been so open with the other and it was the start of a beautiful and weird thing between them. It started slowly with just hanging out all the time, but then one night Remus shakily reached over during an anime he was watching and grabbed Janus' hand. It was all fast after that, and a supposed silver lining to Virgil's absence.

"You still..." Remus mumbled, brushing down Janus' arm slowly "have some.." he picked up the snake-like side's appendage. "Janus shreds to remove," and started to slowly take off the rest of his shed. Janus just turns his head over, sighing at the satisfying feeling, content to fall asleep and deal with washing the sheets later.

"Alright, come on!" Janus lets out a whine as Remus pulls him up and takes him back to the bathroom. The other got undressed and Janus removed the water from the tub while the shower turned on, Remus quickly washed off and then walked back to Janus. "Let's get the rest of this off, hmm?"

Janus nodded and settled down on the side of the tub, it was an ornate one with golden legs on the four sides in the shape of snakes and white marble coloring on the rest. "Are you for real not going to movie night?" Janus sighed as Remus carefully took off the rest of his dead skin, if you tried to remove it too soon it burned and might even bleed, but now it was high past time and felt like bliss.

"Although I would just love to be berated all night long, I think I will be content enough to read the night away." Janus felt a little disappointed at the thought, but even Patton was starting to irritate him. He was treating the deceitful side like a hurt puppy rather than confronting the others. He knew that it wouldn't help, but a little effort in the right direction wouldn't kill.

"Buzzkill...that's fair, and if that bottle was full before it got to your room you're also shitfaced." He laughed, picking up the almost empty container and chugging the rest.

The other just nodded. There was certainty a blur around the edges of his mind growing stronger, and he leaned into Remus' touch as he massaged his shoulders far after his shed was gone the rest of the way. "I think I would just like to go to bed, okay?"

"Do you know people spend ⅓ of their life asleep, meaning that people waste 229'961 hours of their life so they can hallucinate while drooling?"

"Logan has been a bad influence on you," Janus mumbles as they both dry off and make it back to Janus' room. "You should still go, if you want."

Remus in response snuggled under the covers with Janus and closed his eyes, shrugging. "I'm good here, boo, at least until you fall asleep."

"Thank you," the yellow side grumbles, it does take awhile for him to actually rest, but Remus pulled out some sort of book Janus knew better than to look at, and seemed content enough to stay.

---

Janus woke up from a nightmare with a scream and immediately fell into a panic attack. He tried to get the air past his lungs and tore through his hair, his face and arms heavy and numb to him.

Remus was around him a moment later, hugging his shoulders and badly guiding him through a breathing exercise. It took a few minutes but he got back down to where he could speak.

"What if I'm bad for Thomas?" He whispered, hands falling into his lap, he swallowed and almost started to wonder if Remus had heard him. A mantra of monster, monster, monster, monster was cycling through his head, leftover fragments of the cacophony in his dream that was already becoming hard to remember.

"What? " Remus sounded furious, his voice a low growl and Janus folded in on himself, closing his eyes, arms going around his chest.

"Virgil said...I just...no one ever thinks that they're the bad guy, I was happy to play the part if it meant I could get Thomas to see...but what if I wasn't...?" His voice wavered, he knew he was going to regret telling Remus who exactly caused this particular episode, but maybe he deserved it after all the crap he'd been pulling.

"This has to stop!" Remus spat, voice still low. Another aspect that is opposite from Roman, when Remus gets angry it's a cold, quiet fury "when are you going get your head out of your ass, Janny? My fuckass brother gets butthurt once and you're just going to let everything slide by from now on?"

"It's not like that, I don't want anything getting in between me and Thomas or hurting him and that situation has clearly has done both, things will smooth over-"

"Will they really stop though," Remus softened. "You have proved yourself already and Thomas has even told them to chill and they are not any closer to being done with their crap!"

They both stayed quiet for awhile after that..."you're right, something has to budge, im sorry".

"You shouldnt be apologizing to me, i'm not mad at you... i'm gonna go get you some of those sleepy bears" Remus jumped off the bed and Janus didn't expect him back for awhile. At least he put pants on.

Laying back down he realized he had only slept for about two hours, and movie night was on downstairs. He burrowed down with a groan, they had to have heard him scream. He begged the universe that Remus would just go and get the melanin gummies from the kitchen and that would be the end of it.

Of course that wasn't the end of it, but at least Janus wasn't aware for a while.

---

Remus was absolutely fuming when he left the room, intending to break down Virgil's door if it killed him, but when he heard a movie going on downstairs he figured that would work too.

The movie was immediately paused as Remus thundered down the steps. He realized just now that the others probably haven't seen him this truly angry, or even this serious, and Thomas was in the room. That almost changed his mind about whatever he was gonna do when he got to Virgil, but decided that Thomas might need to be privy to the conversation.

"You" He growled, pointing at Virgil who snapped his head up at him from his usual spot. Roman tried to get in the way but Remus summoned some weird handcuff thing and threw it in his direction. It latched onto both his hands and then flew to the wall behind him, connecting to it. It then pulled him back and away. He jumped up on the couch and pulled Virgil up by his hoodie, pushing him against the wall.

"What the-" Virgil started, but Remus shook him.

"You need to put your ducklings in a row before I kill em all!" Remus noted the fear in his eyes and how tight he was holding the other, and loosened his grip.

"What are you talking about?" Virgil said, not moving. Remus was sure he would know why he was here now that it was brought to his attention. Virgil always knew when there was a spike in anxiety somewhere in the mindscape and that much from Janus would have crossed the radar.

"You know damn well what, you pitch black nightmare!" Remus spat, "Do you honestly think that Thomas is better without Janus?"

That stopped him short, and over his shoulder Remus could see everyone's head snap from him to Virgil. "...I didn't say that''

"Well you said something that has him convinced him he's no good for Thomas!"

"He isn't," Virgil insisted, looking like he regretted the words immediately.

"Do you really believe that or are you hiding from the fact that you were wrong and are being an asshole's asshole about it?" That shut him up quick and Remus let him go and walked over to Roman who was as quiet as everyone else was, "Parties over you can go back to your movie". The anger had fizzled when he saw how scared Virgil was, and he had already told Roman off several times. Thomas would most likely have a few words with them, so that would have to be enough. He produced a key and unlocked his twin, with a click the cuffs and key disappeared.

There were a few scattered murmurs from the living room as Remus grabbed a few gummies and ate them, grabbing an extra and heading upstairs with it.

"Hey..." It was Thomas that spoke up, and in a quiet tone that gave Remus pause half-way up, "is everything alright, I mean... what happened?"

Remus opened his mouth to tell him, but closed it again when Logan shifted. "Ask him yourself". Thomas nodded, clearly a bit disappointed with the answer and Remus went to leave.

"He had a panic attack," Virgil mumbled, looking down at his feet numbly.

The others in the room looked mostly shocked but Thomas looked aghast. Before he could say anything else Remus huffed in disgust and walked away to go take care of Janus.

---

Janus stayed in his room most of the next few days, his panic attack was more than enough to tell him he needed a break, so unless directly called upon he would spend some time doing just that. He did leave a couple of times early in the morning to help Patton with breakfast and chat with Logan, but for a much shorter time and left quickly if anyone other than Remus showed face. Everyone was acting a bit strangely but Janus refused to put much thought into it. They all had nightmares, so hearing him yell yesterday shouldn't be something they are able to hold over his head.

He'd also scheduled an early meeting with Dr. Pacini, and he assured Janus that he was handling the situation very well. Taking a step back and avoiding anything that could be triggering for a short time could do some good, although he did ask Janus to lower his alcohol consumption to at least every other day and not fully isolate himself.

He also asked that Janus talk to Thomas about his worries, but was immediately shot down in the meeting. Now that it was in his mind though, Janus felt himself slowly lose the will to not do just that. He would have to explain why he had been absent recently and had made it a point to stop lying to Thomas.

Perhaps he would just explain certain things to his host, that he had wanted to relax a little and that was why he was distant the last few days. Something to sooth the others likely worries and it would be nice to see Thomas, as his company was rather nice.

That's what he told himself as he appeared in Thomas' room late one night, only to find the other on his laptop entranced by Netflix and unaware of his presence.

Janus smiled lightly, happy to see the other enjoying himself, although with the late hour Logan was sure to have a fit. Instead of interrupting he simply started to move about the room, he probably should have gone to bed himself, but a little tidying wouldn't hurt.

He was able to check if Thomas' house plant needed watering, fold some shirts on the floor and straighten up the chair in the corner before he was noticed.

"Oh, hey Janus" Thomas smiled and closed the laptop when he saw the other, "sorry I didn't see you there, um, what are you doing?"

"It's no bother Thomas, it's not like I've taken time out of my very busy schedule of doing nothing to come and check on you at a ridiculous hour only to have you pay me no mind while I clean your room" He waved his hand dismissively and sat next to Thomas, who let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, I actually wanted to check on you, I haven't seen you in the past few days and figured you might want some space but I was getting worried"

"Whatever would you need to be worried about?" Janus tried, icy trepidation making its way up his spine, "I'm doing well".

Thomas paused, looking a bit guilty "look, Jan, I know that you had a panic attack and you don't have to talk about it now but i'd like to maybe figure out why so I can help"

Janus paused, ready to deny and avoid but Thomas gave him that 'im Thomas and too wholesome and caring for this world look' and he signed quietly to himself, now at a loss for words. He felt panic brewing at being so exposed and a slight anger at himself for letting Thomas worry about him.

"You really don't have to talk about it, I swear, and i'm worried but I know you can take care of yourself and..." Thomas filled the prolonged silence with rushed and nervous words that Janus wanted to interrupt but his mouth just wasn't working.

He could say many things. Something to soften the blow, a half-truth that Thomas wouldn't fall for but would allow given the circumstances. He could lie, say that whatever Remus said was just to throw Thomas off, but Thomas had not mentioned Remus and if Janus did then that would be an easy hole to poke through. He could tell Thomas he wasn't ready to discuss it and be left feeling awkward and guilty, because while that isn't necessarily a lie, he would still be keeping secrets from Thomas.

All of these thoughts swirled through Janus's head as Thomas's rambling became muffled and his breath came in shorter gasps.

"Do you think i'm evil?" It was the first thing on Janus' tongue and the last thing he actually wanted to open up to Thomas about. He didn't know if he would be able to take the answer being yes, but a lie to try and comfort him would tear him to pieces.

After a long silence Thomas finally spoke,"What?". His voice was gentle but alarmed, meant to brush away Janus' worries.

The deceptive side tried to respond but he stopped and took a shaky breath, grounding himself. "It has been on my mind for awhile, I know it is unreasonable to ask you to answer that, I just...its tough being insulted by people you (that Thomas cares) care about and I am concerned as to how their opinions are affecting your own"

"Janus, it's not unreasonable to voice your concerns, and... I can't say with certainty that I don't view you as at least a little bad, but i'm working on unlearning that type of thinking and Virgil and Roman aren't going to make me change my mind on that, okay?"

Janus' body relaxed from the tension he didn't know he was holding and he sighed, leaning heavily on his hands. That was somehow the perfect response and Janus felt some sort of weight leave him. "Woah, hey, its okay", Thomas scrambled forwards to sit next to where Janus was, rubbing circles on his back, "Did I say something wrong?"

Janus shook his head, confused as to what the other meant, until he realized he was shaking and had started crying. Shame and fear rose past his relief, but Thomas had wrapped his arm around the others shoulder and Janus couldn't stop himself from accepting the comfort.

He leaned into Thomas' hug, putting his face onto the others shoulder as he let out the first real sob he'd let happen in months. Thomas, ever patient, simply whispered soothing words and rubbed circles on his back.

It took several minutes for Janus to calm down, but once he did he remained in Thomas' grasp for a while longer. "I didn't mean..." Janus started to pull back not sure what he was going to say and looked down at Thomas' shirt, wet with tears, "to ruin your shirt" he finished lamely.

Thomas just frowned and shook his head, worry creasing his brow. Janus sighed and looked away, rubbing his forehead. Thomas had never seen Janus like this, sure he was less guarded around his host but he still wasn't sure what to tell Thomas now that he had all of a sudden broken down. "I feel...better now" was what eventually came out, along with a shaky laugh.

"That's good" Thomas smiled, patting him awkwardly on the back. "Are the others all busy, or, I mean, do you have someone to be with right now, I guess"

"No, Remus is in the imagination and I believe all others are resting, but I can assure you that I will take care of myself." He winked at the other "self-care and all that".

That earned him a laugh, "Right, yeah...you mean a lot to me Janus, okay, I really hope that I wasn't hurting you by not telling you that sooner"

"No, Thomas, I should have come to you sooner and it's really not as bad as it might seem, I am a professional at bottling up my emotions, as it were"

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense..." They sat in comfortable silence for awhile after that, taking a minute to let everything soak in, "If you wanna stay, I was watching the office?"

"That sounds abhorrent" Janus jibed, as he waved his hand and changed into his pajamas, sitting down next to Thomas as he started up the laptop again.

After a few episodes Janus felt his body get lighter and he fell asleep content and laughing with Thomas.

Thank you so much for reading everyone, I appreciated every like and comment and feel free to critique! I wish you well and goodnight!

AFTERWORD IS POSTED! I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO LINK IT IM SORRY!

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theotherackerman · 3 years

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES:

Flashback: Mikasa, age 21 Current time: Wednesday January 20th

chapter twenty-three: the story of us

One year ago, Mikasa did not handle her upcoming father’s birthday very well.

She had gotten drunk.

More drunk than she had ever been.

The room was spinning, couldn’t feel anything sort of drunk.

If it worked for Eren, it could work for her.

She didn’t want to feel.

She didn’t want to think.

Every change of the minute brought her father’s birthday closer.

She had tried to call Eren but Ymir had snatched her phone away.

So Mikasa didn’t call Eren.

Instead, she wandered off into the backyard where Levi found her.

She sat down in the snow, not really feeling the cold.

“I know. You’re hurting. You have been, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re having issues because you’re not allowing the pain you feel to be felt. You’ve been through a lot, Mikasa. Give yourself a break,” Levi said as he offered his hand out to Mikasa.

After a moment, Mikasa took Levi’s hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

Ymir came out of the house moments later and helped lead Mikasa back into the house.

“She okay?” Ymir asked.

“No, but she will be,” Levi replied.

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

Eren woke up with his limbs tangled with Mikasa’s. He was unsure how he was going back to not sleeping with her every night. He loved waking up to her in the morning. She was sound asleep as he had woken up before his alarm had gone off. He watched her peacefully sleeping in his arms. He was still so in love with her.

His alarm went off. He swiped it away.

Mikasa mumbled something under his breath that he couldn’t make out before she was nuzzling into his chest, trying to go back to sleep.

“I’m going to shower,” he told her as he began to move.

There was some sort of noise of protest as she held onto him.

“Unless you want to join me,” he whispered into her ear.

She gave him a gentle shove.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughed as he stood up.

It was a strange little morning routine that they had already fallen into. He took his pills and then made his way towards the bathroom.

Eren noticed after he had returned to the bedroom after his shower that something was off about Mikasa. He remembered the whole reason he was here was because of her dad’s birthday looming ever so close.

She was always off on that day.

On her mom’s birthday, it was even worse.

No matter how happy of a day they all tried to make it, Mikasa still had the same feelings.

Eren didn’t blame her, couldn’t blame her. He knew how his mom’s death had affected him. He knew her birthday was also looming closer every day. With the towel still wrapped around his waist, he sat down on her bed.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked as he reached out and touched her face.

Mikasa nodded.

“You’re still a shitty liar,” he told her.

“I know,” she muttered as she looked down.

His thumb caressed her cheek. “We’ll make it through today and tomorrow...then we’ll go from there. One day at time, right?”

Mikasa nodded again, still not looking up at him.

Eren leaned in and briefly pressed his lips to hers. A gesture that he was still there, he still loved her, and that he wanted her.

If Eren was being completely honest, he had never wanted anyone else and he wouldn’t ever want anyone else. He had resigned himself to a life free of any romance after he had left her.

She kissed him back right before he pulled away.

He had left her.

She had gone through this without him last year.

And he had known it would be bad.

It was bad every year.

What kind of fucked up person would do that?

Eren wasn’t fully aware of the fact that he had grabbed Mikasa and pulled her into a hug until she was squeezing him back.

So he just held her.

After a moment, Mikasa finally spoke.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Always here for you,” he muttered as he rested his head on top of hers.

“Did you use my shampoo?” she asked.

“Yeah…..”

“You smell good though. It’s fine. Your hair is so much longer now.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, I like it. Is this scar new?” she asked as she traced a mark on his chest.

Eren nodded.

“Car accident?” she asked.

“Probably. There’s a small one on my neck too,” he said before he took her hand, he used her hand to trace the small scar on his neck. “That was from glass. I was unconscious when they took it out.”

“Luck you. I got to feel your dad pull the glass out of my face,” she muttered as she traced the scar on his neck.

“I’m sure he was at least trying to be gentle. The doctors were pretty mad at me for drinking and driving.”

“Good,” Mikasa said before she pulled out of his embrace.

“Hey! Well, you’re right. I kind of deserved it back then.”

“I’m going to go take a shower,” she said as she stood up.

“I mean you could have joined me…”

Mikasa tackled him, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed. He tried to wrestle out of her grip but even with him working out, she was still stronger. He also became very aware of the fact that he was still just wearing a towel. Mikasa quickly pinned both of Eren’s hands above his head.

Eren’s eyes met hers again.

“I’m going to take a page out of Niccolo’s book and say this is pretty much the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her.

“Thought you were stronger now,” she replied simply. No blush flooded her cheeks like Eren had hoped for.

“I just let you win.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes as she released his wrists.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

Eren’s only answer was to grab her and flip them so he was hovering over her. He could feel his towel slipping but it did stay in place. He knew another move like that and it would fall.

Mikasa biting her lip and refusing to look him in his eyes did not escape his notice. He stood up as he held onto his towel. He secured it as Mikasa got off of her bed.

“Told you I’ve gotten stronger,” he teased her.

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said. I’m going to go shower by myself.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it.”

Mikasa didn’t even bother to respond to him.

Eren waited until he heard Mikasa’s footsteps disappear before he sighed.

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

Jean had no idea what to expect from Pieck. The woman was a constant surprise when it came to what she did.

So when she had shown up with takeout and wine, he had been surprised.

“Figured Connie would probably still be here so I decided to keep it PG tonight,” Pieck said as came into the apartment. “And I brought a bottle of whiskey for him.”

“Did I hear whiskey?” Connie asked as he came out of his room.

“You did. New brand. Thought the bottle was cool,” Pieck shrugged.

“Pieck, this is why you’re the coolest girl he’s ever brought home,” Connie said as he took the bottle from her.

“Does he bring many girls home?” Pieck smirked.

“Yes,” Jean said.

“No,” Connie replied at the same time.

Jean glared at Connie which just caused Pieck to laugh.

“He always seemed to get shot down at galas. So I think I’m going to believe Connie,” Pieck smirked.

“See? Coolest girl. Alright, I’m going to get hammered and then write this essay,” Connie said before moving the bottle in a small toast before going back to his room.

“Let me guess, you thought it would be something much more sexy that I was going to bring you for stress relief,” Pieck said before she sat the bag of food down on the table.

“Very domestic of you,” Jean smirked as he sat down at the tiny kitchen table.

“Shut up, don’t get used to it. I had a good shoot today so here I am. Plus this place has the best tacos around and it happens to be two blocks away from here.”

“Best tacos, huh? Just look like normal tacos to me."

Pieck rolled her eyes before she sat across from him. "You're the man who thought a twenty dollar wine was expensive. So maybe I don't trust your judgement when it comes to food."

"Well excuse me. I didn't have my mom take me to a winery."

"Maybe she should have."

Jean rolled his eyes before taking a bite of his taco. His eyes lit up.

"Told you. World's best tacos."

"Alright, fine. You win this one."

"I told you."

"...you got any more tacos?" Connie's voice called from down the hall.

"Yes, come get some," Pieck replied.

Their conversation slowed as they continued their meal. Pieck found herself liking being here in Jean and Connie's company. Besides the talk of exams and essays, Pieck would sometimes forget they weren't in the same age group as her.

And despite how much she tried to avoid it, Pieck really did like Jean. Once she got through that cocky, asshole persona he used, she found herself really enjoying her company.

But she wouldn't tell him or anybody else for that matter that.

They would all tease her about it.

This all should have been a red flag for her.

Evidence that she was getting in far too deep with Jean. Here she was bringing him food and alcohol because he had had an exam.

After dinner, Pieck found herself sitting on the couch with Jean watching some cheesy sci-fi movie he had found.

"Saturday there's this frat party Marco and I are going to. I'm not staying long," he said casually.

"Okay?" She asked as she raised an eyebrow.

Why would she care?

"So uh..if you wanted to like…"

"Spit out, Jean."

"I mean this is kind of becoming a routine thing and if you know you were expecting for us to…"

She reached up and grabbed his face. "You're cute when you're embarrassed," she teased him before she let go. "Go get drunk. Party. Whatever. I'm keeping my weekly date with Porco and Marcel anyway. But if it isn't past your bedtime, maybe I'll swing by."

"I won't be asleep," Jean said as he leaned back against the couch.

"Hmmm...will Connie be here?"

"Shouldn't be. He's got a thing with Ruth. He spent an hour on the phone with Sasha trying to pick out the perfect gift."

"What for?"

"I don't know. He likes to spoil his girlfriend and get them gifts for no reason. He's always been like that."

"Huh."

The talk of a relationship was making Pieck uncomfortable. Did Jean want that from her? She couldn't give that to him. It just wasn't something she was capable of. Maybe she should break this whole thing off.

"He's right though," Jean said after a moment.

"About what?" She was clearly confused.

"You are the coolest girl I've brought home."

Pieck held back a laugh, "I've never been cool in my life."

"But you are. I mean you have a studio, you're a working artist. You can play multiple instruments. There's no way you're not cool."

"I'm also unbelievably boring."

"I doubt that."

"I am. I go home, I have a glass of wine, I watch TV, and I go to bed."

"Better than what I do. Just study all the time."

"Oh please. Aren't you going to save the world or something?"

"Just because I'm a political science major doesn't mean I'm going to save the world."

"Hmmm...somehow I doubt that. You seem like the type."

"What type?"

"The type to do something stupid. I should go. It's getting late," she said as she stood up.

"Or you could always stay," Jean muttered.

She stopped and looked back at him. "Why do you want me to stay? You feeling alright?"

"Just a stressful day. That's all," he shrugged.

"Okay, well, I've got a shoot in the morning."

"Right. Yeah, I'll see you later."

Pieck nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Jean groaned once she was gone.

"Dude, you're so screwed," Connie said from the other room.

"Tell me something I don't know," Jean muttered as he sat down on the couch.

"So Sasha and Niccolo aren't talking."

"Why's that?"

"Guess he flipped because we're still friends and exes. It's not like I didn't grow up next door to her."

"Weird. So is he out of the group?"

"Not yet. Ymir is waiting for the word to take him out though."

"I'll help her hide the body."

"Are you going to talk to Pieck about everything?"

"You know she's the first girl since Mikasa that I actually like to be around? I mean the other girls I've been with have been good for a fling but Pieck is…"

"Someone you want to wife up?"

"Yes! I mean no. I don't know. She's just different."

"Then you should tell her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same."

"I hope so."

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

Her friends were very good at getting Mikasa to not think about the fact that her dad’s birthday was the next day.

At least until it was time to sleep.

She tossed and turned. Eren held onto her, never complaining.

Eren pulled her close to him. She turned over so she was facing him.

“You’re okay,” he assured her, wrapping his other arm around her.

She didn’t feel okay. She felt like she was breaking all over again.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Eren said.

The door opened, Annie stepped in first. She was wrapped in her comforter.

“Scoot over,” the blonde said. Eren pulled himself and Mikasa over to the other side of the bed. Annie plopped down on the open space just as Armin was coming in with his own blanket. He climbed into the bed and sat down next to Eren.

“Armin?” Mikasa questioned. “When did you get here?”

“About twenty minutes ago. My classes are canceled tomorrow,” he explained.

“So we’re having a sleepover in your room tonight because fuck being alone. None of that shit here,” Ymir added as she came into the room with her own blanket. She turned Mikasa’s tv on with the remote. “No one kick me,” she warned as she lay horizontally across the end foot of the bed.

Historia came into the room next, dragging a blanket with her.

“Annie, let me use you as a pillow,” Historia remarked as she climbed into bed. She rested her head on Annie’s shoulder.

“Ymir, can I use you as a pillow?” Sasha asked as she climbed over Ymir so she was the opposite way with her feet towards Mikasa’s pillows.

“I don’t care. Just don’t poke me with your boney elbow,” Ymir said.

“Anyone squished?” Eren asked after a moment.

“I’m good. Toss me a pillow,” Ymir said as she held her hand out.

Eren reached back and grabbed a pillow. He tossed it to her and Ymir caught it.

“You know it’s a good thing you have a giant bed,” Ymir laughed as she put her head down on the pillow.

“Probably a good thing we don’t have more friends too,” Annie added as she rested her head on top of Mikasa’s.

Mikasa twisted so she could see the tv.

“Alright, so we will find the worst thing possible on tv,” Ymir informed them before turning up the volume.

“Give me that or we’re going to end up watching Hallmark movies forever!” Historia proclaimed.

“They’re horrible!”

“That’s the point but they are a form of torture I will not endure. Sasha, snatch the remote away.”

“Uh, no. Ymir is my pillow.”

Mikasa laughed a bit as her friends argued.

This was an improvement from last year.

#mmtylif #my writing

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