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msgexymunson · 1 year

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thinkin' bout having to punish sub!eddie for cumming without permission. 😊

Ooh right I'm down with this!

Warnings: MDNI, p in v unprotected sex, sub Eddie x dom reader, overstimulation

A/N: this, this right here, this is my jam! I don't write sub Eddie a lot, so enjoy my beauties!

Masterlist

The slapping of wet skin saturates the space, the air itself humid and sweaty. You bounce on Eddie's cock, over and over and over, tight cunt perpetually sucking him in deeper if that were at all possible.

Eddie's chest heaved, eyes seeming to widen on every bounce until he resembled some kind of bush baby, irises blown with lust.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, the drag of your moistened walls answering him with spasms of their own. Soft whines and yelps are nearly held back by him, chapped bottom lip starting to bleed from his incessant biting.

You flex your fingers stiffly around his throat, a threat of a grasp, capable of so much more.

"I know you're close. Don't you dare." You glare at him as his face turns scarlet, Nodding under your villainous grip.

"I, I w-won't, I swear, oh please" He practically drools, tongue beginning to lull from his mouth in an apparent display of submission.

"I'm so close, pretty boy, you gonna be good for me?" You change your movements almost sluggishly, opting to grind down, slow and steady, pussy never leaving his slick covered skin. Your clit grinds harshly against his pubic bone as your eyes reel back in their sockets chasing your slippery release.

"I- I'm trying, I'm really- oh fuck, I-" the rest is unintelligible as he releases inside you without warning, cum pebble dashing your insides suddenly and to his shame.

Slowing your movements, you stop and stare down at him.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to, you just felt too good, and I-"

"I wasn't finished."

Eddie's cheeks suffuse with blood, blush reaching halfway down his chest.

"I know, I'm sorry, I could, I could eat you out-"

Cutting him off, you speak softly, a hint of danger to the tone.

"Do you think naughty boys get to go down on me?" Tilting your head with the question, your hardened eyes seek his. He can't meet your gaze, only looks down and away.

"No."

"See? So why did you say that?" As you question him, your hips start to move again, running slow and undeviating circles across his already hardening dick. You can feel it beginning to bloom again inside of you.

Eddie hisses at the overstimulation, rough fingertips gripping your forearms.

"I just wanted to help, fuck, I'm sorry."

You watch him as his face scrunches up, too afraid to say anything to annoy you further, abdominal muscles stiffening. You soften slightly, if only for a moment.

"This still OK, baby?" You ask, fingertips caressing his cheek gingerly.

"Yeah, yes, please please-" He pants and whines, making you giggle.

"Good. Because I'm not done."

Grabbing the headboard with one hand, you hold his throat with the other, forcefully thrusting against him harder and harder.

Staring directly into his eyes, you moan your release straight in his face, fingers flexing and finally loosening around his throat. He takes a gulp of heaving breath as he gazes up at you like you just hung the moon and stars in the sky for him.

Smiling with relief, he cups your cheek.

"I really am sorry baby."

You bark out a mirthless laugh.

"Who said I was done?"

You watch as the colour drains from Eddie's face, whilst your hips begin their antagonising circles again.

If you want to be on my perpetual Eddie list please give me a shout, it got a bit lost with Rumour!

@munson-blurbs @eddiesprincess86 @munsonology

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mikeys-bike-slut · 2 years

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Untitled Part 2.

i'm srsly calling this Untitled, welp

Anyway, here's Part 1 and some warnings for this chap.

Warnings: violence, injury, mention of sexual activities, very mild smut, sexual assault threats

Word count: 2975

(halfway through my dumbass forgot if Hanma is the leader of Valhalla or not so um.. surprise? I guess cause now he is. it's 3am leave me alone T_T)

***

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you..." he said in a serious but quiet as he looked down avoiding my gaze. "I should have never laid a finger on you.. I let my anger control me and I just couldn't stop" he continued as his voice started to get annoyed and he clenched his fist. I can tell how much he was beating himself up for hurting me.

I turned around fully and cupped his face then softly wiped the dried blood off of his face as I lifted his head up to look at me. "Don't forget who threw the first punch.. me. I am not innocent here, Mikey" I said in a serious tone then let out a small sigh. "All I wanted is to be treated like any of the other members.. I disobeyed your orders and on top of that I have taken Babu without your permission, tell me what would you have done if it would've been Baji or Mitsuya, huh?" I cocked a brow as I looked at him.

"Would've beaten them to a pulp..." Mikey replied with a deep sigh then just wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. I just smiled as I knew he finally understood. "I guess you're right..." he said with a heavy voice, I can tell he is hating to admit that he was wrong. He pulled away then looked at me. "Though they would've never dare to punch me" he added with a slight smirk then let out a small laugh.

"Look... I am not saying you deserved it but-" I just left the sentence hanging and Mikey given me an offended look then we both just laughed.

"And you know what you deserve?" he cocked a brow with a grin as his voice suddenly dropped and the grin turned into a smirk on his velvet soft lips while he slowly backed me up against the tiles.

"Not what you want Mikey" I winked at him then gently pushed him away causing him to give me a look like I just ate his last dorayaki, making me let out a small laugh.

"You're such a tease" he pouted then playfully smacked my ass as he reached for the shower gel.

***

Next morning:

I woke up to my entire body being sore, getting beaten up by the commander of the Tokyo Manji Gang isn't exactly gonna leave you feeling refreshed. Thinking back, it's kind of terrifying that that wasn't even Mikey's full power. I know him and I know he was holding back, if he would've used his full strength I'd have actual broken bones and or would be in body bag. We often fight but we never really hurt hurt each other, just some bruises and limps, nothing a few days rest won't fix.

When I tried to move I felt something heavy on me and as I looked down the first thing I saw was a ball of messy blonde locks on my stomach which belonged to a certain leader who was snoring on my stomach with his arms wrapped around my waist. I couldn't help but smile, sometimes he can be adorable. Suddenly my phone buzzed, I stretched out then when I grabbed the device and unlocked it, it was a text from the other blonde.

I bite my lip and let muffled moan as I read that text. Draken had the very annoying talent of being able to turn me on with a single sentence and he knew this very well and used it very well. I put my phone back onto the bedside table then reach down to my anchor and gently nudge him. "Wakey, wakey, Mikey" I chirp as I play with his messy hair.

"I don't think so..." he mumbles and buries his face deeper in my stomach making me giggle.

"Draken texted me he's coming to pick me up, I have to get ready. Come on, get up" I nudge him again and as he hears Draken's name he growls then lightly bites my exposed stomach to show his displease. "Hey!" I chuckle. "Careful..."

"Why...?" he purrs in his sleepy tone then moves his head lower and starts leaving sloppy kisses as he goes lower on my body, dangerously getting close to the waist band of my PJ shorts which ignites the fire inside me.

"Mikey...." I groan then push him off of me before I fall under his spell again and just sit on his face and ride him till kingdom come. Mikey has the irritating habit of pushing me to the edge until I literally turn into his slut, doing whatever his horny little heart desire which result in hours upon hours of fucking and sucking and licking and whatever one's perverted mind can imagine.

"You suck" he groans then giving me an offended pout. "Go and have fun with Draken then but then don't miss me" he says with a shrug then turns onto his stomach.

"You seriously going to stay in my bed?" I cock a brow as I sit up and look at him, I'd say in disbelief but it's Mikey, he loves self-inviting himself to everywhere.

"Isn't that where I belong?" he gives me a tired but cocky grin as he turns his head towards me to look at me.

"Shut up and get up" I chuckle then shake my head as I get out of bed and grab my clothes. "I'm gonna have a quick shower, don't destroy my house when Draken gets here" I warn Mikey then walk into my bathroom and let the water run.

As I wait for the water to get to a decent temperature I start wondering where Draken is planning to take me, especially that he knows I'm with Mikey. Mikey tends to get a horrible attitude when someone takes me from him. Outside of Toman Mikey knows no boundaries and loves acting like a brat especially when it comes to me.

I try to have a shower as quickly as I can as I don't trust the tired, bratty ball of jealousy to behave when his taller friend gets here, but the second the hot water touches my skin I get lost in the calming, relaxing blanket the hot water throws on me. I close my eyes and allow myself to get lost in it and let my brain switch off. I don't know how long I was under the shower but suddenly a muffled yell wakes me up from my relaxation. I turn off the water immediately and wrap a towel around myself and rush outside before they destroy my house. Of course when I walk out I see Draken and Mikey staring down each other with Mikey holding my baseball bat and Draken holding my tennis racket.

"Idiots!" I yell as I walk up to them and smack both of them up the head. "Put the damn things down and behave like adults" both male hisses as my hand makes intact with the back of their heads especially Draken who has no hair to protect his melon.

"He started it..." Draken mumbles as he points at Mikey while putting the racket down.

"And I'm finishing it" I growl and cross my arms on my chest. "Now can I go dry myself and get dressed without fearing that you dumbasses will kill each other?"

"You don't have to get dressed for my sake" Draken says with a slight smirk and I just flip him off.

"And I can always help you dry yourself... though usually it's the other way 'round" Mikey winks at me and I just roll my eyes at them.

"It's 10 am how in the hell are both of you so horny?" I shake my head and they both just start laughing.

I roll my eyes and retreat into the bathroom quickly drying myself then getting dress in a simple white tank top and some baggy black pants, putting my long light pink hair in my usual high pony tail. I stretch as I walk out, surprisingly finding both males talking to each other and laughing. I swear these two could be killing each other than having drinks the next.

"Alright, I'm ready" I say as I walk up to Draken and flick his ear playfully.

"Hey! Careful" he growls then sighs. "You're spending too much time with Mikey because you're starting to become a nuisance like him"

"You love me" Mikey grins then yawns. "You two go ahead I'm gonna have another nap"

"If you leave don't forget to lock the house" I sigh then throw him my spare keys, knowing there is no way I can get him out of my bed and I am doing everyone a favour by not kicking him out cause God save us if we Mikey ever shows up, tired and cranky. I grab my bag shoving my phone and wallet in it then grab my bike's keys but Draken takes them from me and hang them up back on the key holder while giving me a kiss in the progress.

"You're riding with me" he says casually with a small smile and I just cock a brow suspiciously.

"Alright..." I say in a questioning tone then give one last glance at Mikey who's already back to deep slumber then just sigh and follow the tall shaved headed male out. As much as I was suspicious I trust both of them with my life.

Draken gets on his Zephyr then hands him his spare helmet. I put it on then sit up behind him. "Hold on tight" he gives me a grin as he glances back at me then revs the motor and takes off. I let out a laugh from the sudden speed and wrap my arms tightly around his waist. We both laugh as he rides off to god knows where.

After a good 20 minutes of bike ride Draken pulls up to an old shrine then cuts off the engine and gets off his bike then helps me off.

"Kenny, what are we doing here?" I cock a brow confused as I look around.

"I have to show you something" he says in a serious tone. "This is something you cannot tell Mikey" I cock a brow even more confused as I follow him to the back of the shrine where he stops and points at unfamiliar gang mark.

"I don't recognize the mark" I say as I crouch down to take a closer look.

"It's Valhalla" he answers and my eyes widen.

"What? They already marking their territory? Rather cocky of them if you ask me..." I say annoyed.

"They're growing, rapidly and at an alarming rate. I wanted to let Mikey know but he has a lot going on right now and with Shinichiro's anniversary coming up I don't trust him to act with a clear head so we have to do something" he says as he looks at me. "Are you in?"

Before I could answer we're interrupted by a loud roaring of bikes pulling up and start circling us. Great... Valhalla.

"Well, well, well what have we here. Not the vice commander of Toman and their little whore?" one of the guys asks with a mocking tone as they shut their bikes off and get off of their vehicles.

"Watch your mouth" Draken warns him. "You think we can beat them?" he smiles as he glances down at me.

"Oh, with pleasure" I grin then I stretch and crack my knuckles. "I take left, you take right?"

"Sounds perfect" he smirks then we both take off and starts kicking down and punching who ever gets in our way before they could have a chance to attack us. After easily knocking down more than half of the men, the rest stop and hesitate whether to attack us or not.

"Wh-why... how can she fight like that...?" one of the men growl in annoyance.

"She's the only person who ever beaten Mikey, keep that in mind. She's the pride and joy of Toman, if you see the wings and the dragon together you better run" Draken says with a proud grin.

"You gonna make me blush" I blow him a kiss then kick off one of the guys who tried to attack me thinking I had my guard down. "Anyone else wants to go?"

A murmur ran across the men surrounding us until I heard a familiar voice behind them, as the crowd opened up a black and blonde guy walked out with a sick grin on his face. Hanma... the current leader of Valhalla, the only person who ever dodged Mikey's kick.

"I got this... stay behind" Draken says with a serious tone as he walks in front of me. "Been waiting for this for quiet a while" he says while cracking his knuckles.

"No, it's my turn to wipe that fucking grin of off his face" I say with a growl then without hesitation I charge at him but last minute I change direction and kick him from the side, straight hitting his temples. He stumbles back and just laughs.

"You dumb whore. I'm gonna enjoy killing Mikey's little slut" he laughs then charges at me with such a sudden motion I can't even react. Everything happens so fast by the time I realized what happened I've been thrown across the ground with a piercing pain in my lower abdomen.

"Angel!" Draken yells then clenches his fist and jumps in front of me dodging the attack Hanma wanted to lay on me while I was down. "You have some nerve, hitting a girl while she is down" he clicks his tongue then punches Hanma hard enough to send him flying which surprises the shithead. "You okay Ang?" Draken asks in a softer tone as he turns back to me and helps me up. As I finally get back up on my feet I notice Hanma charging at Draken from behind.

"Duck!" I yell at Draken who immediately ducks allowing me to swing my legs over him and kick Hanma away with a grin, ignoring the pain that shoots across my entire body. "Hanma you don't wanna mess with a dragon and an angel" I grin with a slight pant then I spit some blood on the ground and wipe my lips.

Hanma growls as he wiping the blood off of his face, glaring at both of us with pure hatred in his eyes. "This isn't over, tell Mikey to expect war, you disrespected us long enough you little shits" he says coldly then motions to his men to wrap it up. "Toman is over!" he barks. "And you... when Toman falls you'll be nothing more than a toy for us. We'll see how big your mouth is when 300 men fucks you one by one"

Draken eyes darkens and steps towards Hanma calmly. "You'll die before you could lay a finger on her"

With that Hanma got on his bike and ride off with the rest of his beaten up gang. I let out a sigh then collapse on my ass as the adrenaline wore off and I started to feel the pain of the punch Hanma laid on me.

"Shit, you okay Ang?" Draken asks worried as he crouches down then picks me up carefully.

"Don't worry big guy, if I can take a punch from Mikey I can take it from anyone" I chuckle forcefully not wanting him to worry but it's hard to hide the pain I was in. The last time my insides were this rearranged is when Draken fucked me on the back of his bike. "I just need to lay down, we won't say a word about this to Mikey though, otherwise we're both dead"

"Oh god, that is true" he sighs then lets out a small chuckle. "I almost forgot how hot you look when you fight though" he winks at me as he carries me to his bike then carefully sits me up on his back seat.

"I can say the same thing about you" I wink at him as I look up at him. He looks around then once he's certain no one is around he leans down and gives me a long kiss. I run my hand up his cheek and lean into his kiss more eagerly then I intended and he notices.

"Hmm, let me take you to mine so you can rest and get your strength back... so I can take it all again" he smirks and kisses me again then hands me his helmet.

"I mean after Hanma's punch I think my insides need to be re-arranged again" I smirk and then I make a fake gagging sound as I hold my abdomen. "I think my stomach swapped places with my liver."

"Jesus Christ Angel... like are you okay?!" he asks with a laugh and a disturbed look on his face as he looks at me.

"It's fine, I'm sure they'll eventually crawl back to their original places" I say it with a playful strained voice and he just shakes his head and playfully shove the helmet in my head.

"Strap in and shut up" he says with a defeated small chuckle then puts his helmet on and sit up in front of me.

I chuckle and fix the helmet, ignoring the pain all the laughing and chuckling is causing my lower abdomen then wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his back. As we start riding I start to think about everything that just happened. Did we just started war between Valhalla and Toman? We need to talk to Mikey, he needs to know this but with Shinichiro's anniversary he won't be able to think clear, Draken is right but then what else can we do? There's only one thing that will work, as cruel as it is if we want to survive it has to be done.

Mikey, forgive me for this.

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lynxindisguise · 1 year

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sunday snippet

ty for the tag @spindrifters -- here, have more of these two dorks from The Hut of the Mistold

“Do you miss it?” he asked, hugging his knees to his chest. The tug of the nearly full moon left his bones aching, muscles twitching, skin prickling, thoughts churning. “Your village?”

Lily sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, plaiting her hair. “Not really. I miss my parents. And my sister.”

“I thought you hated your sister?” Every story she’d every told him about Petunia left a distinctly sour taste in his mouth.

She shrugged. “I still miss her.”

He chewed the inside of his lip, anticipating the answer to the question he’d yet to ask. “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

“Maybe one day. When I’m done brewing.”

“How will you know when that is?”

Lily looked up, taking full advantage of the intensity of her piercing green eyes. “When my hair turns purple, of course,” she said, scoffing at his ignorance.

Remus was halfway through a complete mental tour of everything he knew about witches—a good deal more than most—before he realised she was joking. His shoulders shook, laughter cracking open his solemn expression. She joined him, that sparking match smile of hers setting her face aglow.

They were thirteen now, both spotty, freckly, and unsure in their bodies. They were doubled over with the sort of delirious laughter that only happens after midnight. Their faces were inches apart, mirroring each other’s delight.

So they tried it. A kiss. A clumsy peck of chapped lips that left them both with wrinkled noses and a fit of decidedly unattractive snorting. He dropped his head onto her shoulder, and she patted his overgrown curls.

open tag for sexy hags, big bad dorks, and snarky little witches <333

#tag game #hut of the mistold #current wip #lily and remus are platonic soulmates and I will not be convinced otherwise

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hobimo · 1 year

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Green on the Horizon chapter 3 preview

hello if u have missed my previous posts here i have finished chap 3 and im getting into chap 4 but im not pleased with them so i have decided to lock them up until may where i will reassess them once they have fermented enough and Developed Flavour and post them both for mermay.

Until then please keep reading to see the first scene of chapter 3 below! I’m pretty happy with it but when u see it next it might be tweaked a bit idk. thanks for your patience :)

The stories have always depicted dragons as benevolent gods. As wise. As merciful.

The sound of water breaking disturbs the crew and Seokjin so much that he flinches before the dragon’s huge tail slams down onto the deck directly in front of him. Seokjin feels the ship lurch and sink further into the water under the dragon’s weight. Easily as tall as him, the scales are so large and green and wet with water he can see his own terrified face reflected in them before they disappear into the huge white tuft of fur at the end, just like a lion’s tail.

Red spines peek out through the fur, long enough to impale Seokjin with one swipe.

When Seokjin dares look up at the beast, its vermillion eyes are narrow and cruel.

Its lips pull back as their gazes meet, vicious. Beyond the torrents of water falling from the dragon’s huge, serpentine body, the deck is completely silent. Seokjin feels cold the more he stares at the creature, frozen still as its red eyes bore into him. It’s so large it blocks out the afternoon sun behind it; an eclipse realised.

To show his sincerity, Seokjin had foregone even his usual rope knife. He is completely defenceless before the dragon, its maw big enough to bite him clean in two. From above them, the dragon growls something awful, so loud and intense it makes Seokjin’s bones tremble under his skin, the very air heavy like water as he grapples for a rope, just to stay on his feet. He can barely breathe through the weight of it, hitting his chest so hard he doesn’t even know if his heart can beat under the pressure.

Every painting, every sculpture, every story Seokjin has ever heard or seen, pales before the dragon before him. Does not capture the weight it carries, the sound of it, the predator’s gaze. For the rest of his life, all legends will be ruined for him, no tales of dragon mercy will ring true. This is a beast that wants Seokjin dead, and it is happy to wait for his sweat to wash away the stink of snake wine before it strikes.

One day when he dies, this dragon will peer down and watch which realm his soul goes to next with those same crimson eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Seokjin sees Jimin duck behind the main mast, tip-toeing to the bow of the ship.

Right. They had a plan. And Seokjin has to do his part.

The dragon pries one talon out of the wood, splinters flying, and then lowers it down one step further, the maw of razor-sharp teeth inching closer. Its neck is so long that even with its talons halfway down the mast, it can curl up like a cobra, looming over them. Just its neck alone must be the same length as the mast itself, thicker than it where it meets its chest, before thinning again, the rest of its snake body writhing as it adjusts its posture on the wooden beam.

“Dragon King!” Seokjin shouts, barely audible through the dragon’s growling. His voice sounds scratchy and raw, not clear like it should be, but he doesn’t dare stutter, not here. He will force the words out with his whole body if need be. The dragon’s growl intensifies in response, eyebrows twitching and furrowing, clearly displeased. It lowers its head inches further, the feathery edges of its whiskers almost touching the deck.

The killing intent is almost enough to make Seokjin’s legs give out, but he grips the rope until his knuckles turn white and clears his throat. He can’t give up now, not after everything he’s done. Not when they’re finally getting close to making the impossible a reality.

“I will not talk more than necessary,” Seokjin grits out, and the dragon’s red-scaled lips pull back further, all of its white teeth on show. “I want to borrow the power of your yeouiju.”

There’s a hitch in the growling, the dragon clearly surprised, and it opens its mouth. From between its fangs, it extends its tongue, pink and slick like a dog’s, suspending the pearl before him like a taunt. The jewel is huge, so large Seokjin would need both hands just to hold it, pearlescent and so full of magic Seokjin can feel it, like he has never felt magic before. A tangible presence, power so concentrated it could corrupt anyone with a touch. Seokjin’s hands itch to reach out and snatch it before the dragon can hide it away again, even though he knows better. The temptation digs under his skin like a parasite, urging him with a ferocity he didn’t know existed—take it. Take the pearl. Kill the dragon.

He drags his eyes away from the stone to the dragon’s red gaze above, and feels like choking on seawater. Those eyes are narrowed and waiting. Baiting him. Luring him right up to its teeth, like an anglerfish.

“Yes. I need its power just for one task,” Seokjin continues, and the dragon’s eyes narrow further, retracting its tongue and the yeouiju back into the safety of its mouth. “There is a ship that sails between the mainland and Tsushima island, manned by the ghosts of those murdered by their crews at sea. I want to revive someone, using your yeouiju.”

The dragon’s eyes widen, its surprise startlingly human, before they narrow even further, growling viciously again. It’s jaw opens an inch, enough to see the way its tongue and lips pull back, worse than any dog or tiger, wood creaking and ship swaying as its weight shifts, preparing to pounce on him.

It won’t. The smell of the wine hasn’t faded yet.

“I only need it for that one thing,” he continues. There is a shadow moving on the main mast, beside the dragon’s curled body, and Seokjin forces himself not to look. “I have no intention of stealing it from you. If you would be willing to lend me the jewel—”

The dragon snaps warningly, lurching out to bite through the air in front of Seokjin, so close the rush of air stings. The snap of its jaws is terrifying, so loud and close Seokjin is scared one of his own bones has snapped. The growl changes and sharpens with a hiss in the back of the beast’s throat, its white beard swaying as it shakes his head, licking its chops.

He misspoke, then.

“I have no intention to use the jewel for anything else,” Seokjin insists, the dragon growling so loud and close he can barely hear the words come out of his mouth. It’s approaching him, enraged even to the point of enduring the smell, it seems. “I swear on my life.”

For a fleeting moment, Seokjin lets his hopes mislead him. He almost thinks the dragon will be as benevolent as the legends claim, that it will be moved by his plea, or that perhaps it will use the jewel in its mouth to divine the truth in his words.

But like all else, the tales pale before the dragon.

The look in its eyes is so furious Seokjin expects it to begin swearing at him, to curse his bloodline for generations—but it does no such thing. Like an animal it climbs one step further down the mast, until the deck is within its reach, its neck coiled up to stay just far away from Seokjin that the wine’s smell doesn’t reach. And then it growls lowly, before jerking its head away from him. The meaning is clear, even to Seokjin: his life is worthless.

And then it begins to rain. The dragon watches him, eyes wide and perfectly still, as the rain begins as nothing but a few timid drops and develops into a downpour within an instant, the harsh sunlight fading and replaced by gloom. The blinding reflection of the sun on its scales is replaced by a buffeting wind that kicks up salt and spray onto the deck, whipping the white mane around the dragon’s head furiously.

“I ate the swallow purposefully to lure you here,” Seokjin bites out, his words lost to the wind but the dragon hears him just fine, roaring at him as wood splintering under one of its talons. Its tail whips away from him, slapping the water so hard spray hits the deck and stings Seokjin’s skin. “It was not my intention to offend you. We had no other option. The yeouiju is our only hope.”

When the dragon opens its mouth and hisses, it’s like staring down the gullet of a crocodile. The force of its breath is enough to sting his skin, and instead of smelling foul, it smells only like the harshest ocean wind.

“The fortune teller foresaw you would help us!” Seokjin snaps, desperation turning to frustration. The dragon recoils violently at this, rearing up so much so that even its front talons leave the wood, suspended only by its body wrapped around the beam. “So tell me, what must I offer for your jewel to be used this once?”

The dragon’s eyes blaze, and when it tenses up a little further, Seokjin knows it is going to pounce on him, ignoring the stench of wine and snapping him up. All of this for nothing. Summoning a god just for it to deny him, to cast him aside.

The shadow on the mast drops from where it had been holding onto the halyard, falling right beside the dragon and grabbing halfway down its green whisker. The dragon shrieks in pain as its head is wrenched down, and Jimin’s feet hit the deck with barely a sound. Seokjin watches with horror as the dragon’s red eye swivels to see who has grabbed it, before it roars and throws its head back.

It’s exactly what Jimin wanted, Seokjin realises. Jimin manages to kick his legs just enough that when the dragon hauls him back up in the air, Jimin swings right under its chin and can hook his heels in the battens of the sail, enough to drag himself right onto the top of the dragon’s head. Jimin’s snarl is so ferocious Seokjin can see the slash of white teeth even from here, as the man grabs one of the dragon’s antlers and uses that strength of his to pull the whisker tight enough that the dragon’s jaw is wound shut.

“Now!” Yoongi shouts, and men on either side of the deck pick up a coil of rope and throw it high, over the dragon’s neck and head. Together, the crew grasp the slick ropes, wet from the downpour, and winch them down. The dragon thrashes and struggles, roaring and hissing in the back of its throat, shaking its head violently to try and dislodge Jimin, who holds firm.

Its weakness is that dragons are benevolent. Seokjin hadn’t understood it, but as the dragon’s eyes frantically search around it for somewhere to flee, Seokjin sees the exact moment it realises it cannot escape without throwing the crew overboard, possibly killing them. That it’s trapped.

With one final heave, the men pull the ropes tight, and the dragon’s head pressed down into the deck. Jimin doesn’t move from the top of its head, wrapping the whisker around his arm like a rope. Its lower body writhes and struggles, trying to pull it free of the rope, but one of them has been secured behind its antlers and can’t move. Its tail slaps the water, swipes the side of the boat, those red spines nailed through the wood, but not even that can save it.

Jimin stands on the captured dragon like a demon, the wind whipping his black hanbok around him, eyes feral. “I told you I could do it,” Jimin says, grinning despite how heavily he’s breathing. All the muscles in his arm jump as he adjusts his grip on the antler, knuckles white. “Go on then, Siren Captain. Make your demands.”

The dragon growls as Seokjin approaches, no less threatening even now that it is restrained. Its snarls as best it can with his jaw wrapped shut, its eye furious and human where it glares back at Seokjin. It throws itself against the bindings, trying to at least hit Seokjin, but Jimin yanks on the whisker so it can’t budge.

“You’re trapped, Your Majesty,” Jimin taunts it, his voice cutting through the ringing in Seokjin’s ears. “Better to give in and listen.”

The dragon growls, struggling again, but its head doesn’t move. Tentatively Seokjin approaches, placing one foot down after the other until he is close enough to speak directly into that red eye.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, low enough that Jimin hopefully will not hear. The dragon’s eye rolls from Seokjin, up to try and see Jimin perched on its head, and finally all the fight leaves it. Its huge eye closes, and the rain stops immediately, the wind abating, the clouds immediately beginning to fade.

“Dragon King,” Seokjin says again, even more daunted by the silence than the lashing rain. His voice comes out far quieter, and the dragon barely blinks open its eye to look at him. “I need the power of your yeouiju for a task. I simply need you to allow us to use your jewel just once. If you can agree to that, we will release you.”

The dragon simply looks at him for what feels like an age, the intensity of its eye never lessening, until it makes a small noise and sighs, eye closing again. Seokjin hopes he is right to interpret it as acceptance. He will have to take the risk, gesturing for the men to release the ropes.

Park Jimin does not.

The air floods with heat, energy so intense and otherworldly that Seokjin stumbles away. Before their eyes the dragon begins to shrink, its tail evaporating where it pierces the side rail of the ship, its twisted torso around the mast disappearing into salt spray. The ship springs out of the water as the dragon’s weight sinking it disappears, and its head shrinks and warps into the shape of a human.

Jimin does not release the dragon even as it becomes a man pressed onto the ground beneath him, Jimin’s hand fisted in his head of white hair.

“Park Jimin,” the dragon-man hisses, hair fading from blinding white to the shiny black of a young man, the last part of his transformation. His hands come up to grab at Jimin’s arms behind him, fingers digging in. “You—”

“Accept the deal,” Jimin snaps, yanking on his hair. The dragon’s answering snarl is as powerful in the air as it has been when he was a hundred times the size he is now. Jimin isn’t fazed, pulling roughly on his hair again as he yells, “accept it!”

“I accept!” The dragon yells, yielding, his eyes finding Seokjin’s where Jimin keeps his face pressed to the deck. “Now release me!”

Jimin drops his hair unceremoniously, picking his feet up and stepping away from the prone man. Yoongi lingers at Seokjin’s side, staring in wonder and horror as the dragon pushes himself up, his free hair spilling over his shoulders, naked and human, betrayed only by the vibrant vermillion of his eyes.

“Fetch him clothes,” Seokjin orders, his voice shrill even to his own ears. When the dragon stands, roughly grabbing at Jimin for support, Seokjin is startled by how tall he is. Perhaps not quite his height—he must be the same height as Seokjin, not even as tall as Namjoon—but rather how small Jimin looks beside him, almost a head shorter, and yet the dragon moves away from him as soon as he’s steady on his feet, as if it pains him to be close.

The dragon king is as striking as a man as he was as a dragon, his face easily belonging in a mural rather than on a live person.

“What shall they call you?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin itches to hit him at the mocking tone he uses. Even at this distance between Seokjin and the dragon, an easy six paces, the air thrums around him with dangerous power.

“You push your luck, Park Jimin,” the dragon snaps. He turns to Seokjin with a grimace, vitriol in his eyes as he inclines his head. “You may call me Taehyung, Kim Seokjin. Siren Captain of the Southern seas.”

“And crew,” Jimin jabs. When Taehyung snarls at him, his teeth are fanged and sharp.

“And crew,” Taehyung bites out. Jimin grins at him, apparently unbothered by the dragon’s anger.

“I will remain with you until the moment you require the jewel,” Taehyung explains. “I cannot leave it in your care. I will not lift a finger to help or protect you or your crew. You should have made me agree to that while you had the chance. Be warned, Kim Seokjin—everything you barter for in this life, I will personally ensure you are robbed of it in the next.”

The threat from a dragon puts salt in Seokjin’s bones, but he sets his jaw. He was never naïve enough to expect he could pull this off unscathed.

“So be it.”

Jimin snatches the clothes the crew bring out, and throws the outer layer of the hanbok over Taehyung’s shoulders, leaving him to dress himself. Seokjin is almost embarrassed at the shabby clothing they offer the dragon king, averting his eyes. He can see Yoongi keeps watching him, expression unreadable, hand tight around the hilt of his sword to hide how his whole arm shakes.

Namjoon hovers near the poop deck, unsure whether to approach, so Seokjin gives up and waves him over. Namjoon is strong, physically and in spirit, but he lacks the disposition that makes a truly strong fighter—the cruelty. He is too kind, too gentle, and it makes him too scared. No matter how these three years after Jungkook’s death have affected him, Namjoon was never prepared to kill a dragon, if it came down to it. He shuffles behind Seokjin like an anxious puppy, enraptured by the presence of the dragon.

“It’s good we didn’t die,” Namjoon mutters, and the bark of laughter that comes out of Seokjin shocks even himself.

“Yes,” Seokjin agrees, dragging his eyes back to Jimin and the dragon, who has tied the hanbok around his waist. A dragon, on board Seokjin’s stolen vessel. All to use its power to bring Jungkook back to life. He can only hope that the dragon vowing not to protect them means he won’t also harm them, too tired for much else.

Dragon trapping. Another one of Park Jimin’s frightening abilities.

Yoongi’s warning to stay on his good side echoes in Seokjin’s mind. At least for now he finds Seokjin entertaining enough to stay on board, to offer his help. They are almost done.

“Now we only have to find the ship itself,” Seokjin reminds both Yoongi and Namjoon, and it feels like years since he has seen them smile so sincerely. It probably has been.

“We truly did it,” Yoongi mutters. “It feels like a dream. Jungkook will come home.”

#bet u thought it was abandoned didnt you #HA #special thanks to pov u are a heartbroken mermaid playlist on yt #really got me feeling bad that i wasnt writing this fic and now look at me #i think chapter 4 is gonna be significantly shorter than the others #bc there's only so much i can put in it other than the climax tbh #that being said PLEASE tell me if u want jinmin smut #i mean chances are im gonna write it anyway #but any requests guys any ideas u would like to put forward #bc im kinda scratching my head abt it #anyway hope u enjoyed the preview #hoseok also appears in chapter 3 but at the end so u guys will have to wait until may to see him #anyway pour one out for sharlie she has been in my dms telling me i can do it for Months #this fic exists bc of her everyone say thank u

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pynkhues · 3 years

Note

Prompt 47!

Sorry this one is so late! I hope you like it!

47. Cuddling under blankets

It takes her two days to cave.

Two days to feel the frost in her joints, her perspiration crystalise, her breaths escape in clouds of bitten mist, and god, Beth thinks, staring up at the roof of the cabin, half expecting stalactites. This is not what she had in mind when Rio said safe house.

Not that she was entirely sure what she did have in mind before - - well. Just before. Had never spent all that much time thinking about where it was Rio went when everything had gone south, but if – gun to her head – she’d had to guess, she’d have thought: luxury apartments, sundrenched holiday houses, riverside lodges.

A place his G Wagon would look at home in the driveway, the parking lot, pulled up on the curb.

Somewhere he’d look at home.

The thought makes her wet her chapped lips, sink deeper into the threadbare blankets on top of her still-trembling body, and her gaze dart sideways to where Rio crouches stoking the last flickering embers of the fire.

It’s raining. or rather, it’s sleeting. Shards of ice colliding with the thick glass windows, escaping down the chimney to make the flames spit and smoke below, and when it had first started, Beth had watched Rio cuss. Watched him prod balls of tattered newspaper and sticks she’d collected and tried to dry yesterday, but it hadn’t done much good. The rain had gotten heavier and the fire smaller and she’d seen the chill find him. Pink his nose, ears, stiffen his fingers, and she’d though good, she’d thought he deserves it, but she’d still left him the last of the hot water in the flask even as her own fingers were turning blue.

Now, she holds them close to her mouth, exhales, but her breath is barely warm, and she can’t stop trembling, so she shoves them between her legs instead, and looks at him across the tiny, dim cabin, and says what she’s been saying for the last half hour:

“It’s going to go out.”

He’d ignored her the last time, and scoffed the first time, but now at least it’s enough to make him spin around and look at her, bundled upright on the only bed in the place, the look on his face like he’d forgotten she was even there, and Beth huffs, tilting her chin towards the fire.

“Poking at it isn’t going to miraculously fix the chimney leak,” she adds this time, a shiver rolling up her spine as Rio stares back at her, the erratic glow from the dying flames licking across his features – his plush lips and sharp nose and swollen eye, but god, it’s not that. It’s just - - it’s the cold. That’s all, and when his nostrils flare a little, it’s too easy to add: “Well, it’s not,” because she’s right.

Across the room, Rio finally drops the fire poker back to the tray and stalks his way towards the tiny sofa where he slept last night, tucking his arms high up into his armpits as he drops onto it, leaving his back to her as he hunches forwards, making himself as small as possible in the frigid space of the cabin.

And she doesn’t feel bad.

She doesn’t.

This entire situation is his fault.

It was him who showed up three weeks ago with a new plate, telling her to print two million dollars cash. It was him who’d had that spring to his step while he told her about a new client, and it was him who had her show up at a hotel bar with a suitcase full of fake cash to meet a guy who turned out to be an old-partner-turned-bitter-rival of Nick’s.

She still doesn’t really know what happened, just suddenly it was a few days later and Rio was back at her place with a black eye and a limp and an order.

Bring the plates.

He’d driven them through the night.

Now, across the cabin, he drops a hand to rub at his bad leg, and Beth’s frown deepens as she wriggles back into the dusty mattress, her gaze holding on the narrow line of him, and here’s the thing.

It’s not like she hasn’t thought about it.

Last night had been bad enough, but tonight with the rain and the sleet, without any real insulation and no fire, they’re practically case studies for hypothermia. For the bone chill and the frost bite and the slurred speech and the shuttered eyes and the slip towards a forever sort of unconsciousness.

And like, she knows that the best ways to avoid hypothermia are warm drinks, food, blankets, getting off the ground, and body heat, and just - -

Look.

They finished the cocoa hours ago.

Beth sniffs, rolls her eyes to the ceiling, feels a jittery tension in her body as she blinks hard and finally just says it:

“Come here.”

Rio twists his neck back instantly at that, his eyebrow arched, but he doesn’t make any indication that he’s likely to move, and right, Beth huffs. Why should this be any easier than literally anything else? Her head’s already starting to feel heavy, her thoughts tangled, and she figures the best way forwards is to - - well.

Be the danger.

With a trembling hand, Beth slowly unwraps the blanket from around herself, revealing her stiff jeans and loose sweater, the cold washing through the thin fabric like a rinse, and her teeth are already chattering when she says:

“Body heat.”

His other eyebrow raises to join the first, gaze dropping to her chest where she knows her nipples are peaked in cold, and Beth scowls.

“Not like that. Just - - we’re both freezing right and now, and this - - look. It works.”

“Yeah? You learn that at Journey Scouts?”

“Got the badge and everything,” she bites, and she’s sure she’s visibly trembling now, can feel it, and she sees Rio stare at her, shake his head, start to tell her to bundle up before she kills herself or something, and she adds: “You either come over here and get in the blanket with me or we’re both going to freeze to death right now, and what are your gang buddies gonna think of that, huh?”

Outside, the wind howls and the sleet is starting to get heavier, thicker, careen into hail, and god, it’s cold, and Beth can barely feel her anything anymore, and Rio’s still staring at her, his eyes (or, well, the one she can see below the swelling) dark, and she’s halfway to giving up and flinging herself back on the dusty mattress and trying to shiver her way to any sort of warmth, when Rio suddenly pushes up off the couch and beelines towards the bed.

Which - - right, Beth thinks. This is good, this is what she wanted. In her head, there are vague flashes of real warmth, his body pressed into hers, a memory of heat and desire twisted up and around and over and over, and something drops through her like a lick of flame, and she swallows only to suddenly find herself being gripped around the waist and pushed sideways. Within moments, Rio’s slipped his body beside hers and laid them both down, the mattress frigid beneath them, as Beth desperately tries to adjust the thin blankets back across them both.

She inhales sharply when she feels Rio’s leg press sideways against her own.

His arm against hers.

Both of them suddenly pushed like fish fingers against each other on their backs.

Or like corpses.

The thought makes her swallow.

Makes her gaze flick up to see his swollen face, his pink nose, his unusually pale features.

God, it’s cold.

Beth sniffs, looks down as she wriggles further beneath the blankets, curling her socked-toes to try and hold the blanket to them.

“So,” she tries. “How long are we going to be here?”

“I dunno,” he answers instantly, voice light, like he’d been waiting for her to ask. “How much holiday leave you got?”

Beth scowls, twisting to look at him, and then away, and then back, fixing on the way he hasn’t taken his gaze off the ceiling. It leaves her with little to look at but his swollen eye, the skin darkened with bruises around his temple, and she can’t quite keep the edge out of her voice when she asks:

“Did your brother give you that?”

“Cousin.”

He sniffs as he says it, nose wrinkling, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he winced too at the motion of it. Pressed against her own, his arm feels tight, stiff, his leg cold against hers, and fine, if that’s the way he wants to play it.

“Oh, sorry. Did your cousin give you that?” Beth asks, correcting herself, and at least now, Rio does twist his neck to look at her, his eyes wide in the dark, the whites of them near luminous, and god he is - - he is too close. So close she can feel the cool of his breath against her cheek.

He doesn’t reply, and Beth swallows, something in her gut twisting, fingers trembling as the silence pulses between them, and she doesn’t know if it means yes, or if Rio’s insulted she’d even think that (Nick had just seemed - - and Rio - - something. There was something, that’s all), and it makes her look away. Makes her stare up at the ceiling like he’d been doing, like she had earlier too, watching the timber roofing tremble and listening to the shatter of sleet.

She thinks her toes are going numb.

She thinks her lips are.

She thinks the cold is starting to wrap its fingers around her ankles and pull her into its clutches, starting to leave her tired, and suddenly she’s grasping at anything to distract herself. Anything to keep her head above the threat of frigid oblivion, and she’s halfway through the chorus of Do You Wanna Build a Snowman? before she even realizes what she’s humming.

It’s not until Rio snorts beside her that it means anything to her slow turning head.

Beth’s gaze fixes back on him, and it’s sudden then – the memory of Jane and Marcus singing it to each other through the laundry room door while they played, back when Rhea still came around, back when Beth thought - -

After - -

Beth blinks.

A shiver wracking her chest as she clutches the blankets a little tighter.

“Does Marcus like Frozen?” she asks, like she doesn’t know, and from the way Rio makes a low noise of affirmation, she knows that he doesn’t.

Something in Beth loosens, tightens, loosens again.

“He really likes that snowman,” Rio says, sniffing again. “Olaf.”

His lip twitches – something between a smile and a grimace, and Beth can’t help but grin in reply, her own gaze holding now on the twist of his mouth.

“Jane had a stuffed one that sang the song from the movie. The Summer one. I took out the sound box and stitched it back up.”

Rio barks on a laugh, even as Beth cringes at the memory. It probably wasn’t her finest parenting moment, but after hearing the same song for the thirtieth time in a day, she was about to start tearing at the wallpaper.

“I told her he just wasn’t feeling well,” she adds. “But secretly I’m hoping she forgets he ever sang.”

It’s weird, the voice in her head that tells her it’s not a secret anymore.

Not now that she’s told him.

She doesn’t know why that leaves her pressing her arm to his a little tighter.

“Damn, you’re doin’ better than me,” Rio tells her, his voice low, a little slurred, hoarse with cold. She thinks that’s one of the symptoms of hypothermia, isn’t it? God, she can’t remember. “I gave Marcus’ to one of his cousins.”

Beth laughs.

Looks at him.

Vaguely, something in her head tells her to listen to his chest. Check for a rattle. Is that for hypothermia? No. Pneumonia, she thinks. Tries to summon up her badge training. God, she feels drunk suddenly. Woozy. She lifts her head and places it on his chest anyway, and if he’s surprised, he doesn’t act it. Instead, his arm circles around her shoulders, pulling her into him, which is silly, she doesn’t need the rest of her to hear the ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum of his heart beneath her ear. Doesn’t need to drop his mouth to the crown of her head, doesn’t need to inhale either, but she shivers at the warmth of his exhale there when he does that and when his freezing hand finds her shoulder, it’s too easy to reach back.

To pull it around her arm and under, squeezing his fingers into her armpit to warm them, and when his fingers creep forward to squeeze her breast, she doesn’t move them, couldn’t, she doesn’t think, not with his heartbeat so close, and his chest isn’t rattling but it might, she thinks, and god, it’s so much warmer like this, so she shouldn’t move her head just yet.

Just to be sure.

Just to warm them up a little.

Just for now.

#beth x rio #intimacy prompts #thanks anon!#this was a fun one and let me write one of my fave tropes which i have written tragically little of haha #beth boland #rio #my fic

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fvrxdrm · 3 years

Text

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

“This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn’t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

“Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

“Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

HEAT WAVES

This is a short multi-character series about different kinds of love blooming in the summertime. Written as part of the DBH LATE SUMMER PROMPT CHALLENGE

(Read Parts 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 and 6 first!)

[PART 7/7: HEAT OF THE NIGHT]

**TW: SEXUAL CONTENT

“Hey baby.”

Gavin was barely audible as he shifted on Hank’s couch to make room for Nines. He opened his arms and let the android lay down with his back to his chest. He wrapped an arm around Nines’ middle and nuzzled his neck.

“I couldn’t find Sixty anywhere. Are you sure you didn’t see him leave?”

“Hmm…? No…”

“I think he’s disabled his tracker. The little shit! The house keeps coming up as his last location when I search for his signal!”

“Don’t worry, babe. He knows his way back. Like our cat… If Con went missing that would be a real problem. Like if Sumo went missing. But with Six… it’s like our bitch-ass cat. She comes and goes as she pleases. We shouldn’t wait up.”

Nines rearranged his husband’s sleepy grip to be less stifling and relaxed into the cuddle.

“Hmm. You always did understand my own brothers better than me. I just can’t figure out why he was so upset earlier.”

Gavin yawned and pulled Nines closer despite having just been pushed away a little. He tended to get handsy after a few drinks.

“He should be fine now...”

Frowning, Nines twisted in the human’s grasp. He was smooched lovingly before he could articulate any response. He allowed a few messy kisses before breaking off with a quiet whine.

“Gavin, if you know where he is, just tell me. I’ll sleep better for it.”

“Babe, I have no idea-”

He broke off as a rumble came from overhead. Something scraped across the tiles on the roof and came to a stop with a muted thud. Nines looked up at (and through) the ceiling, eyes glazing over and LED spinning rapidly.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

A detective through and through, Gavin chuckled as he easily deduced whatever Nines saw using his x-ray vision. He pressed a kiss to his husband’s throat.

“Just like us back in the day, huh?”

Allen broke away panting. He put a hand on Sixty’s chest to still him. It had been years since he’d done anything like this. Lying on top of a man’s house and making out with his son for hours like a teenager.

Their chaste first kiss had evolved into something decidedly more mature. Months of mutual pining and sexual tension spilled over effusively and now the two of them were rock hard and desperate for some kind of release.

Sixty moaned in Allen’s ear and ground against his thigh. With the way they were lying intertwined, that action also brought some much-needed friction to Allen’s groin. He sucked his breath in through his teeth.

“Sixty... just... Fuck it. Just touch me.”

“Are you sure, Cap?”

“Fuck, don’t call me that if you’re going to jerk me off!”

“Yes, sir.”

Sixty kissed him once more and undid the buttons of his jeans with ease. A hand slipped past the waistband and palmed his erection through his briefs. Impatient, Allen lifted his hips and brought both his underwear and jeans down to his thighs. Sixty’s eyes widened at the sight of the exposed and leaking cock.

Despite having very limited experience in this department, the android moved with confidence. He rolled over his captain’s body and captured his chapped lips in another deep kiss, wrapping a hand around the turgid shaft and stroking.

Allen sighed into the kiss with satisfaction and began to unzip Sixty’s trousers. He quickly found his prize and ran a thumb over the tip of the synthetic penis, producing a garble of static and glitching noises from the android.

Their wrists moved in tandem, speeding up and slowing down in a well-coordinated rhythm. Allen let his consciousness wander and allowed himself to forget that he was perched two floors above the ground. He placed all his trust in the android holding him. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so, albeit in a very different context... so it was incredibly easy.

Sixty soon felt himself get near to the close and could tell that Allen was even closer. He withdrew his hand and peeled Allen’s fingers off his own dick. Looking deep into his new lover’s eyes, Sixty lowered himself further and brought their slick cocks in direct contact with each other.

That was absolutely the right thing to do, considering the loud moan that Allen let out. The older man clapped a hand over his mouth in shock at his own reaction, but quickly recovered when Sixty spat between them and began to move. Trapped between their abdomens, their cocks slipped and slid against each other... hardening and pulsing and twitching... and then finally releasing.

LED flashing a myriad of colors and cooling fans running high, Sixty finished with a groan and fell onto the roofing tiles beside Allen. They both lay there staring at the moon… thoroughly undignified… shirts hiked up over their nipples…spent cocks dribbling onto their stomachs.

“Great job, Cap.”

“You too... bud.”

Tina arched her back and clamped her thighs over his hips as she rode him, backwards. She tossed her hair and rolled her body in ways she’d only seen in certain films. If she thought about it for too long, it felt kind of silly. Like she was just playing a part and the director would yell cut any second.

But this was real. This was not a Hollywood studio. This was her boyfriend’s bedroom and this was the sex life she had now.

She wondered whether it had anything to do with him being an android... Connor was insatiable. He wanted her all day, every day, everywhere.

She didn’t know if or how long it would last, but hell, she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was the best sex of her existence and she would take however much of it she was given, especially if it came with heaps of adoration and praise and affection.

Connor jerked his hips underneath her. She got the message and picked up the pace. His hands came to rest on her stomach from behind and slid upwards slowly to cup her breasts. He held on tightly and sat up, pressing his chest against her back with enviable core strength.

Tina turned in his grip and he brought his mouth to hers. She parted her lips and invited his tongue in. He then leaned forwards and brought her crashing down onto the mattress. Another position, then.

With a series of implicit gestures, Tina relinquished the lead and passed the control back to Connor. He flipped her onto her back and hooked her legs around his waist, all the while buried deep inside and pumping ceaselessly. His deft fingers circled her clit and she knew that she’d be coming again... for the fifth time in a row.

“Hey T.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Gavin sighed against Nines’ bare back. Falling asleep was proving difficult, given the clamour from various parts of the house. He knew his husband was wide awake too.

“Baby…”

“Shhhh.”

“Don’t act like you can sleep through all this.”

“What?”

“Your siblings making multiple trips to bone town? Plus your dad trying to out-snore his dog. It sounds like we’re on a farm here.”

Nines made a petulant noise but Gavin could tell that he was also amused.

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“Well, I’ve always said… if you can’t beat ’em… join ’em…”

Gavin scooted around on the couch a little and pressed his groin flush against Nines’ backside. A sharp hiss escaped the android.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

There was a pause (during which a series of snores and moans echoed in the living room) while Nines considered the proposition. He apparently found little objection to it and ground back against Gavin’s hardening length.

“Now we’re talking.”

Gavin gently bit down on his husband’s shoulder and pulled on the drawstrings of the sweatpants they both wore. He eased the fabric off the both of them. In no time at all, his stiffening cock was between Nines’ cheeks and his hand wrapped around Nines’ shaft.

Self-lubrication was one of the things about androids that Gavin was eternally grateful for. He gathered the drip from Nines’ tip and coaxed him to full mast, all the while rutting against the slick crease of Nines’ ass.

Their motions were easy, well-practiced.

Once they were both fully aroused, he stroked his hands over Nines’ body and guided one of his thighs up to fully expose his entrance. There was absolutely no resistance. Even in the dark, there was no hitch to any of these proceedings. They’d made love like this a hundred times before and would do it a hundred times again.

Gavin took hold of his cock, gave it a few pumps and aimed. He slowly found his mark, slipping in and bottoming out with grace. He hooked an arm around Nines’ raised leg and waited a beat, before pulling halfway out and pushing back in exactly once.

“Ohhh…”

“Is that good, baby?”

“Shhh… don’t talk.”

Gavin smiled into the side of Nines’ neck and set up a gentle rhythm with his hips. He had to go with the shallowest of thrusts if they intended to stay on the couch. But that was fine, they’d had plenty of rough, fast sex in the early days of their relationship. They weren’t missing out on anything. In fact, nowadays both of them preferred the sweeter, gentler kind of lovemaking.

Nines reached behind and cradled Gavin’s head in the crook of his arm, pulling him down for a deep kiss. He obliged easily, and for his part, used the extra room to slip his free hand around Nines’ body and grasp his cock.

Under each other’s careful ministrations, they took turns to sink into the pleasure and fall apart. Eventually, when he could hold himself back no longer, Gavin began taking all the steps to make sure Nines came first. He sinfully grazed the synthetic prostate on every thrust…caressed his chest… teased his nipples… massaged his laden balls… and pumped his cock with dedication until Nines seized up against him and came with a muted gasp.

Gavin stroked him throughout the climax and caught the ejaculate in his fingers. Without any instruction, Nines grabbed his hand and licked the mess off his digits. Keeping his breath steady, Gavin pulled out and lay flat on the couch with his flushed and wet cock in the air.

The android moved over him with absolutely no need to be asked. Nines took his husband into his mouth and swallowed down to the base of his shaft with an utterly inhuman lack of gag reflex. Gavin finished down his throat and the two of them fell back into the spooning position that they’d begun in.

They lay together quietly, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow of yet another round of happily married sex. It was so blissful that they almost forgot where they were until one of Hank’s rumbling snores resounded through the house. Nines had the presence of mind to get up and pull their sweatpants back on before both drifted off to dreamland… uninterrupted by lustful moans from the spare bedroom and heavy thudding from the roof.

@connor-sent-by-cyberlife

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Hearth & Home

A/N: Hello friends and mainly my secret santa @marvel-and-mischief! Zoey, this is this for you and I hope you enjoy! It was so nice getting to know you and you are such a sweet, kind person. It’s not much, but I hope it brings a smile to your face and I hope you have a fantastic Christmas! Lots of love and hugs!

(disclaimer - this is my first time writing for Pero, please be gentle!)

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Snow was falling outside the window gently, coming down in soft, fat flakes. The ground was coated in it already, creating slick icy walkways and dusting the gardens you had so lovingly tended to in the spring and summer. The sudden cold front had come unexpectedly, neither of you had much time to prepare, so you decided to let it be. If come the new year and spring, the flowers decided not to make an appearance again, you would simply have to plant new ones. Things always worked out how they were supposed, even if it wasn’t the most conventional of ways. But you already knew that and had known that more some time.

Your husband was proof of that in himself.

Speaking of which, you paused as you were in the middle of washing the pots and pans, shaking the warm, soapy water from your hands as you looked outside and spied Pero tending to the animals. The sheep and goats followed him closely on his heels, which he always insisted he hated, but you knew he secretly enjoyed. He had a soft, gentle soul, even if the exterior did not match that whatsoever. A walking contradiction, a balance of rough and soft, but he was your everything.

Almost as if he could sense your eyes on him, Pero stopped petting the sheep at his side and turned to look in the window, a small smile stretching across his features, highlighting the singular dimple you loved you so much. Cocking an eyebrow in amusement, he waved at you as you responded in kind, feeling a flush of warmth wash over you. You’d called him your husband for several years now, but sometimes even the simplest of looks caused the heat to pool low in your belly and make you feel like a maiden again.

Before you got too wrapped up in your little daydream fantasies, you turned back to your dishes, grabbing a cloth to dry them. You enjoyed days like this, the ones that brought a chill and allowed you to light candles all over your small home, along with a big fire in the main living area. There was something so welcoming and cozy about it, that it caused your heart to settle and feel warmth and content. On top of all that, it gave Pero an excuse to remain at home as well, instead of going into town to work at the blacksmith shop. No one was going to need any sort of armor or equipment in this weather.

“Mi Sol,” the sound of his warm, gruff voice caught your attention as you turned to find him coming inside, taking off his overcoat and hanging in near the door. You stopped what you were doing and walked over to him, grinning at him as you brushed some of the slowly dissipating flakes out of his dark curls. He made a small, contented sound in the back of his throat as he keened into your touch.

“Pero, you must be freezing,” you touched his cheeks, flushed red from the cold along with his nose. Before he could argue or contest what you were saying, you pressed your lips to his. Despite being slightly dry and chapped from the wind and chill, his kiss was still soft and gentle. His hand went to the back of your neck as he held you close, taking his gentle time to kiss you. When you pulled back, your hands went to the lapel of his shirt as you pulled him further inside towards the hearth where the fire was merrily crackling away, “relax and get warm, my love. I’ll go and get you a sweater.”

“Thank you,” he nodded softly as he took a seat near the fire, letting out a long sigh as he relaxed and let himself comfortable. He was not a young man anymore, after long days of working his bones ached, particularly his back, and the cold weather wasn’t helping. Luckily he didn’t even have to say anything, you just knew. You knew you and you helped him without needing to be asked, causing a warmth to wash over him. He was not a man of many words of openly gentle displays of affection, but you never doubted his love or devotion to you.

Nor he with you. You easily had the choice of many men to agree to have as a husband, but you had chosen him. He hadn’t even been an option, not truly, but you still chose him; you were a steadfast, stubborn little thing, he had always claimed and you had definitely proven that to him and everyone when your engagement was to be announced to the public, and you shocked everyone and chose him. It hadn’t been an easy thing; not by any means.

Choosing Pero meant losing your family and everything you had known. The reckless mercenary and the lady of polite, gentile society - a juxtaposition in every way. You were meant to marry a man of wealth and taste - culture, everyone liked to call it. But you had known in your heart since your little love affair had started with Pero that he was the one for you and there was no one else. For a few while he had wondered if you would end up regretting your decision or loathing him, but you never did, you never once had even a single regret over choosing Pero. When it came down to you, you would have chosen him again and again, every single time.

Love was the end, you always insisted, despite what the world seemed to think.

You gruff, stoic mercenary agreed, even if he didn’t verbalize the statement.

“Here you are,” you returned quietly, warm padded feet shuffling quietly along the wooden floor. Pero pulled his gaze away from the fire and turned to you, a smile slowly covering his face. Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you held out the sweater to him before moving to grab some more blankets for the two of you. Pero was silent, uncharacteristically so for him, as he watched you. Turning slowly, you met his dark eyes and gave him a curious look, “Pero? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he promised as you lit a few more candles near the heath before joining him and sitting down on the soft couch, pulling the blanket over the two of you. Placing his arm around you, he held you close, breathing in the quiet comfort your presence provided, “are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeated as you pulled gave, a puzzled expression crossing your features. You had no idea where this was suddenly coming from, but you reached up and put a hand on his cheek, “of course I’m happy, my love. I am very happy. I hope nothing in my actions has done anything to cause you to believe otherwise.”

“Of course not,” he huffed lightly, studying you with a quiet intensity that made you want pull him into you then and there, to become whole and one with him. Taking your hand from his cheek, he brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles, “sometimes I just wonder if this is enough for you. If I am enough for you.”

“You are many things, husband, including a silly man,” you laughed at him, setting his soul at ease as he relaxed at your words of reassurance, “I am happy, nothing could make me happier. And you? You are everything. I don’t want anyone - I could not even dream of it.”

“Not even-”

“Not even some governor, or lord, or anyone could make me as happy as you do,” you closed the small distance between your bodies, practically crawling into his lap, “Pero, I chose you then and I still choose you and I would always choose you. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” any remainder of the tough exterior and façade he had melted away at your words. He held you close, pausing for just a moment before you decided to take matters into your own and kissed him. You were fully seated in his lap at his lap at this point, his large hands finding purchase on your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck. It wasn’t often that the two of you that were able to enjoy the quiet silence of a winter’s afternoon or to take such solace in one another, knowing that neither of you had any duties to attend to you. Pero pulled back after a few moments, his hands wandering up your body and pausing and your face, “I know I do not say often, mi sol, but I do love you very much. You make me happier than I could have ever dreamed.”

“I know it to be true, sweet husband,” you beamed at him, shining as bright as the sun on a mid-summer’s day. He’d given you the surprisingly tender nickname shortly after you’d met by chance at the farmer’s market one early spring afternoon several years ago. You’d brightened his day and instilled a sense of hope into his heart, he had told you, just like the sun - mi sol, “you don’t always have to say it. I know you mean it.”

You nuzzled your nose against his, admiring his quiet beauty for a few moments, pressing your lips against his cheeks, forehead, nose, and stopping at his lips before wrestling him down on the couch so he was flat on his back.

“I love you,” you whispered softly before moving to straddle his waist, “now let me show you how much.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“It looks like the snow is starting to let up,” you commented as you opened the door to look outside, pulling your coat tighter around you. Gone was the harsh snowfall from the evening before, leaving everything covered in glittering white powder, but with a less harsh chill settling over everything. Pero came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, “it looks beautiful out there.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” he commented as you playful sighed at him, “what do you say we go out and look for some holly and ivy today? We can decorate for the holiday properly.”

“Do you mean it?” you asked, eyes wide with excitement as you turned to him. He nodded as he moved to go and fetch your thick woolen outer coats and boots, “everything will look so lovely and festive! It is almost time to welcome the end of the year and halfway point of the winter.”

“Then we shall plan a big feast and everything to celebrate,” he grinned softly as your heart melted. He wasn’t normally a big fan of festivities, always going along with what you wanted to do, but never really having a preference one way or another. But this year, something in him had shifted and he seemed even more in the holiday spirit than he normally was….not that you were complaining at all. You loved to see him happy and smiling; despite all of his time with you and resigning himself to a quiet life, you knew things from his past life often still haunted him.

“I think that will be lovely,” you agreed as he held out your coat for you to slip into, followed up by him draping a warm scarf around your neck to keep you warm and toasty. You couldn’t help but grin as you buttoned up his coat, slapping his hands out of the way as you grabbed a scarf for him. He remained silent, watching you with reverence as fretted over him. When you were done, you took a step back and admired the handsome view that he provided, “there. All warm, Pero?”

“Wonderful,” he agreed as you opened the door again and stepped outside, holding your hand out for him to take. He wasted no time in enveloping your hand with his much larger one, smiling to himself as you swung your clasped hands together. He liked this - your humble little life, and getting to spend his days with you. It was nothing grand or overwhelming, but none of that mattered; all that mattered was you and love you shared.

“Pero?” you paused when you noticed that he was lagging behind, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he insisted as he caught up to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “nothing at all.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Humming under your breath, you finished setting up the rest of holly and ivy along the hearth, taking a moment to admire how it looked all around your small home. Even the small staircase leading to the second floor was covered with candles and greenery, casting a soft gentle glow around the whole place. It was nothing over the top or grandiose, but it was still beautiful and warm, and you loved it more than anything.

Standing on the stool under the doorway separating the kitchen from the living area, you carefully tacked up the mistletoe you had found. It was more for a small laugh, a fun little folly one of your friends had told you about, but you had still wanted to surprise Pero.

Just as you finished tacking it up, the front door opened and Pero came inside, immediately shaking out his hair to get the remainder of the snowflakes out. You were so startled by his sudden appearance that you stumbled slightly and almost fell off of the stool. Pero, ever the fighter and quick on his feet, was faster and at your side in just a second, catching you in his strong arms before anything could happen.

“Hello,” you grinned at him as he held you in his arms, a look of concern momentarily crossing his features. When he saw that you were okay, he relaxed, the rapid beating of his heart already slowing down as he set you on your feet. You leaned up and kissed his cheek, “thank you my love. You’re always my hero.”

“Are you alright, mi sol?” his hand found your face as he gave you the once over you and you nodded, “what were you even doing?”

“I was just putting up some mistletoe,” you pointed to the top of the doorway, watching as a look of confusion crossed your husband’s features. He reached up and touched it, giving it the once over as he brushed his fingers over the lush, dark green sprigs.

“Isn’t this poisonous?” he cocked an eyebrow as you nodded, “then why one earth…”

“It’s not for eating or anything,” you stated the obvious with a small laugh, “it’s for decoration. And besides, there’s a sort of tradition about it that I heard…”

“Pray tell, what could this so-called little tradition be?” he asked you as you pulled him closer by the lapels of his coat. He made a small sound of surprise as you let your lips linger near his.

“If two people are caught under it,” you explained, “you are supposed to kiss, and it is to bring good luck if you do and then bad luck if you fail to do so.”

“Ahh,” he laughed lightly as you nodded, “what an odd little thing. I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I hadn’t either,” you admitted, “another one of the ladies in the village told me about it today and gifted the mistletoe to us. I figured it might seem silly, but there’s not harm in trying, right? Besides that, I don’t quite fancy setting ourselves up with bad luck.”

“I definitely do not want to do that either,” his lips brushed yours as they quirked up in a small smile, “what do you propose we do about it?”

“I think you should kiss me, dear husband,” you suggested with coaxing, eager eyes, “and if it should please you, you can do even more than that.”

“I would not be opposed to either,” he put his hand on either side of your face as he offered you a gentle peck, leaving you hanging on for more, “how lucky I am to call you my wife, mi sol.”

“I love you, Pero,” you promised him, “you and only you.”

“And I you.”

“But now I really do need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me,” you insisted, “and then some.”

“As you wish.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#Pedros12DaysOfChristmas #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #the great wall #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tovar x reader

249 notes · View notes

maybanksbitch · 4 years

Text

Hole (2) || JJ Maybank

* this is not my gif; all credit goes to the owner

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: john b, pope (briefly), sarah (briefly), kiara (briefly)

prompt: jj finally shows his face after what he’s done.

requested: yes, by lots of you

warnings: language, angst, fluff (at the end)

a/n: someone said they wanted to see reader lose her shit on jj so i did my best. i didn’t want this to be too long so if you want a part 3 let me know.

part one

John B gave JJ the ass beating he deserved and your friends found you on the side of the road, knees bloody and soul broken. The blonde was gone from the Chateau when they took you back and cleaned you up.

Sarah went home and John B let you sleep with him. He was your best friend and they both knew you needed him. He held you close to his chest, thumb brushing comfortingly over your shoulder. You could hear Pope snoring from the pullout couch and Kiara occasionally waking him to make him turn over.

Your fingers brushed over John B’s injured knuckles as you started to drift off. He had a nasty bruise forming on the bridge of his nose where JJ managed to get a punch in. You felt horrible that they’d fought because of you, but you knew John B wasn’t going to let him get away with doing what he did unscathed.

Your sobs woke the brunette in middle of the night. You were sitting up on the bed, head in your hands, shoulders shaking. He sat up slowly and rested his hand on your arm.

“Why did he do this to me?” you choked out through small cries.

John B sighed and rested his cheek on your shoulder, shaking his head the tiniest bit. “I don’t know, (Y/N). I don’t know,” he muttered quietly.

The two of you didn’t sleep after that. You watched the sunrise out on the hammock.

•

It had been almost a month since you’d seen JJ; since all of you had. Your friends had started to grow worried. You had too, despite what happened, it wasn’t like him to just disappear for that long.

You were sitting on the couch on the screened in porch, fanning yourself with a magazine. Pope and Sarah were down at the dock fishing. Kiara got stuck helping her dad at work.

“(Y/N), want a beer?” John B called from inside the Chateau.

“Yes please!” you shouted back, desperately wanted to press the cold beverage against your hot skin.

You sat there and waited for John B to come back, smiling as you watched Sarah excitedly reel in a fish. You heard the front door open and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Get out,” you heard John B demand.

“John B-” you knew that voice. A chill ran up your spine.

“No! Get out!”

You stood quickly and walked into the house. John B was standing in the middle of the room, blocking the back door. You caught JJ’s eye over your best friend’s shoulder.

He looked like shit; absolute shit. He had dark circles under his red rimmed eyes. His lips were chapped and bruised, a split going down the middle. His cheek bone was swollen and bruised around a cut. You knew where his injuries were from and your heart beat just a little bit faster.

“(Y/N), please. Can we talk?” JJ’s eyes were on yours.

John B side stepped in front of you, hands clenching beers at his sides. You stepped forward slowly and placed your hand on the brunette’s shoulder. He turned to look down at you, jaw clenched, heavy breaths leaving his nose.

“It’s fine. Go to Pope and Sarah,” you muttered softly.

John B glanced back at JJ before his gaze returned to you, “Are you sure?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded your head once. He let out a deep breath and gave JJ one last look before turning and heading out back.

You waited until John B made it to the dock to turn back around to the blonde. He was staring at you, hands shaking and tears already brimming in his eyes. You walked over to the fridge and grabbed two beers. You walked back across the room and set one of them on the kitchen table in front of JJ.

He took the can hesitantly and you cracked them open at the same time. You quickly downed a quarter of the beer to ease your nerves. You stood on the other side of the table, making sure to keep distance between the two of you.

“You wanted to talk? Well then talk,” you said, running your fingers through your tangled hair.

JJ let out a sigh and sat down in one of the wooden chairs. He took a drink of the beer and set it back down then clasped his hands together in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You were quiet for a minute, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, you let out a scoff of a laugh and shook your head.

“You’re sorry. That’s great.”

“I am. I’m so, so sorry, (Y/N). I wasn’t thinking straight. My dad got in my head and I was being stupid,” JJ’s pitiful eyes met yours.

You looked away quickly. You weren’t going to let his poppy dog eyes get the best of you this time. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness just yet.

“I think that’s bullshit,” you replied, staring at a picture on the wall across the room.

“I’ve have always been there for you, have I not?” you asked, seeing the blonde nod out of the corner of your eye. “I’m the one who cleans you up when your dad beats the shit out of you. I’m the one who holds you when your night terrors wake you up. I’m the one who has your back when you get in stupid fights with Kooks!”

“I know-”

“Then why did you cheat on me?!”

JJ’s first came down on the table loudly. He stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor and tumbled over. His blonde hair hung down over his eyes as he shouted, “Because I love you okay?!”

“Oh, bullshit, JJ!” you immediately fired back. “You don’t do that to someone you love!”

“I was scared! I was scared of what I was feeling for you. But it’s true! I’m so madly in love with you I don’t know what to do with myself,” his shaky hands pushed his hair back as he rambled.

“You don’t think I wasn’t scared?! I still am! God, everyday has been hell for me because I shouldn’t still love you but I fucking do!” you were borderline screaming now, needing to get all of this off your chest and make him understand that what he did wasn’t okay. Your eyes started to burn with tears but you held them back. “I still love you even though you broke me!”

JJ clenched his jaw and dropped his head, a few tears falling from his eyes and onto the table. He wiped them away quickly but you saw.

“You know, Sarah said we’re like soulmates. She said she could tell we were in love when we looked at each other. Said she’d never seen two people go together so well,” your voice was significantly softer as you leant against the wall. Your head rested back against it and you stared at the ceiling.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You chuckled and shook your head a bit, closing your eyes, “She said that too.”

JJ picked up the fallen chair and set it back in its place, slowly sitting down again. He rested his elbows on the table and dug the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“I want you, and only you, (Y/N). It took me doing a really, really fucked up thing to realize it. I lost the best thing that ever happened to me,” JJ sniffled and dropped his hands, crossing them over his chest and grabbing the opposite shoulders. He stared at you from across the room. “Can you forgive me?”

You slowly opened your eyes and looked over at the blonde. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, yet you saw nothing but pure honestly swimming in his blue irises. You felt your heart tug. Wanting to go to him and feel yourself wrapped up in his arms again. You were like magnets pulling together.

“I need time,” you answered, turning to look at your friends through the open door. They all turned away quickly when they saw you looking. “We have to build that trust again. I have to heal,” you explained and looked back at JJ.

He nodded and rested his chin on the joint where his arms were crossed. He looked out the open door as well and watched as John B started making his way back up towards the house.

“Think there’s any chance he’ll let me stay here?”

You smiled softly and pushed away from the wall. “I’ll talk to him,” you assured the blonde boy.

You walked out and met John B halfway through the yard. There was a small argument but eventually the brunette caved and went inside to welcome JJ back home. He didn’t apologize for busting up his face though, and the other didn’t expect him to.

You sighed and looked out at the water, watching it dance in the sunlight. It felt like the weight on your chest had lifted slightly and you could breathe again. That hole in your heart closed the slightest bit as well and with time, maybe it would close completely.

masterlist

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clonewarslover55 · 4 years

Note

If requests are still open!! Could we get some sweet smut HCs/a drabble with Boba? Maybe something after a mission? I love your stuff!! Thank you for all this wonderful content!!!

My requests are still open, plus I love Boba so much!! Of course I’ll write this!! Thank you so much, I’m sooo glad that you enjoy my content!!

Boba Fett X Fem!Reader //Smut and Fluff//

Notes: I just decided to do a drabble. I hope that's ok!

Warnings: Fluff, smut, showering together, shower sex, Boba Fett is a little shit, Unprotected sex! Please be safe everyone!!

Boba walked onto Slave I looking exhausted, he moved slowly. No purpose in his steps. You walked to him, “What’s the matter?” He removed his helmet and gave you a lazy kiss, “I’m just drained. That last bounty was an asshole that drained my will to live.” He grumbled. You nodded and ran your fingers through his curls. You let him vent out his bad day for a little bit.

You grabbed his gloved hand when he was done venting, “Let's take a shower, come on.” Boba didn’t protest as he followed you up the ladder halfway. The door to his quarters slid open and you walked into the room, holding Boba’s hand. Boba’s small quarters had an even smaller fresher. The shower could hardly hold both of you, but you didn’t mind being so close.

Both of you removed your clothing and stepped into the shower, the hot water instantly relaxing Boba. You smiled and rubbed his tense shoulders, “Just relax, I'll wash your hair.” Boba let out a soft grunt and you grinned, kissing his cheek softly.

Boba closed his eyes as you washed his hair, groaning in enjoyment. You loved Boba’s hair, it was fluffy and very soft. You washed his hair with extra care, so it would be extra soft when it dried. You began to wash his body, taking your sweet time admiring his dark skin and toned muscles.

He noticed you paying extra attention to his many scars. He opened his eyes and you flushed under his predatory gaze. You rubbed his toned chest, “What.” You mumbled, your cheeks still hot. Boba shrugged and kissed you softly.

Boba’s lips were usually chapped and dry, but they were always super soft. You moaned softly into the kiss, his lips slowly moving against yours. Boba’s taste was addictive, he just tasted so unique to you.

He rested his large callused hands on your hips as you two continued to kiss. Boba’s tongue played with yours while his fingers traced patterns into the skin of your hips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You played with the hair at the base of his skull, making sure to tease his skin with your nails.

Boba pushed you up against one one of the walls and moved his lips to your neck. You let out a breathy moan as his lips attacked your neck. Boba loved to mark you up, so he made sure to nip and suck wherever he pleased.

You gripped his muscular shoulders as he easily picked you up. His hot lips didn’t leave your skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist, gripping him tightly. Your head was thrown back, resting against the cool tiles.

The water was hitting Boba’s back as he left love bites all over your neck and collar bone, causing you to grow chilly from the cold air of Slave I. Boba moved closer to you, his warmth soaking into you easily.

You were growing wetter by the second, and not just by Boba’s magical lips. He was using one of his hands to slowly rub along the insides of your thighs, making sure to avoid your soaked core. Even though he was exhausted he was still a huge tease.

“Boba.” You pulled his wet hair slightly, “Hm?” You glared at his dumb smirk, “Can you please just fuck me already?” Boba sucked a particularly big love mark onto your pulse point. He hummed softly and kissed his way to your ear, giving your earlobe a hard nip.

You sighed impatiently, your core begging to be touched. Boba was an incredibly patient man, and sometimes that was irritating. Boba moved his mouth to your lips, his taste quickly distracting you from your thoughts. He gripped your thigh, his other hand beside your head keeping his balance.

Boba groaned when he rubbed the head of his cock against your entrance, feeling just how wet you were. You gripped him tightly as he slowly pushed into you, making sure to be slow so you could adjust to his size.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you both of you moaned out, just basking in the feel of one another. He kissed you passionately, his tongue quickly invading your mouth. He began to thrust into you lazily, keeping his thrusts slow and deep.

You quickly became a mess of moans and whimpers from his mouth and calculated movements. Boba nipped your earlobe softly and let out a low groan, “Just look at how beautiful you are.” His gruff voice was hardly heard over the shower. “All marked up.” He nearly purrs out. You moaned at his words, causing him to smirk.

He shifted your hips some, so he could sink even deeper into your slick channel. The head of his cock began to hit that special spot deep inside of you, causing you to approach your peak even faster. Boba lazily trailed kisses along your jaw and neck as he rubbed your breasts, turning your nipples into hard little peaks.

“Boba.” You moaned out, causing him to groan against your skin. You gripped his shoulders tightly, leaving angry red lines. Boba picked up his pace when your walls gripped his cock tightly, making pleasure shoot down his spine.

Boba moaned out curses in many other languages as you came hard, your walls clamping extremely hard around him. You cried out his name like a prayer as you came, which made Boba hit his peak along with you. He gripped you tightly as his hot ropes of cum shot deep inside of you.

You ran your fingers through his hair as you both relaxed. Boba slowly pulled out, causing cum to leak down your quivering thighs. He clenched his jaw watching his cum drip from your fluttering core. He shook his thoughts away and decided to wash you off.

He held you under the now cold water as you tried to remember how to stand. Boba kissed all over your face as he washed both of you off. He turned off the water when he was done cleaning up both of you, causing you to shiver from the cold air.

Boba quickly wrapped an old towel around you, helping you dry off. “I was supposed to be the one caring for you after our shower.” Boba just smiled, “I beat you to it.” You huffed and watched him dry off, his muscles flexing with every movement.

You already found yourself growing hot and bothered again, just from looking at Boba. He rolled his eyes at you staring and walked into the bedroom. You stared at his perfectly sculpted ass as he walked out of the freshers.

He laughed from the bedroom, causing you to flush. You quickly walked into the bedroom and stole the worn t-shirt he was about to put on. Boba huffed, but looked you over in his shirt. You grinned and walked to the small bed he had.

Boba shook his head and followed you to his bed, so you could continue the night full of passion.

#boba fett #bobafett #i love Boba Fett too much #Boba Fett is the sexist thing in StarWars #i’ve been thirsty for Boba for years....#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x y/n #Boba Fett x Fem!Reader #slave 1 #bounty hunter #bounty hunters

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sergeant-spoons · 3 years

Note

Plss 💋(lipstick) & 😥💖 I don't know if it's possible to be angst and romantic!😂 or else it's up to you to write just one:))

Kindly Calm Me Down

Éva Delafose - Le Défi des Français

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @indecisiveimpatience

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So cold, alone.

Far from hearth and home and hope. Nearly five years, and Éva was more worn down than the old bearskin rug her aunt kept as a welcome mat for at least five decades. She shifted her leg, trying to find a comfortable position; alas, the armchair was quite small and the springs had wasted away enough to bore into her back through the cushion. Opening her eyes, she looked across the room. A baker's dozen of soldiers littered the carpet, the bed, the couch, anywhere they could fit, they found rest. Before the war, she would have been shocked to think anyone could sleep on the hard floor. Now, she was grateful not to find herself on the cold ground, in a ditch somewhere, moments from frostbite, as she'd been at least twice before.

The rise and fall of his chest let her know he, too- Lewis -was taken by slumber. It was the first night indoors he- or any of his men -had been allowed in weeks. Still, she felt her heart strain as she watched him sleeping, mostly hidden in the shadows. One hand rested in the curve of his helmet, upturned at his side, the other laid on his stomach. His hair was unkempt, his lips chapped, but his brow was loose in sleep, and the slightest of dream-smiles created a sense of peace about him. Though in waking, he might be downcast, in sleep, he seemed an angel. Not of God, something greater... promise.

Could you be my blanket?

She was halfway across the room before she'd realized she'd even stood. Still, she did not stop herself, crouching before him. It was creepy, and invasive, she knew, to be staring at him so intently as he lay oblivious to her attention; she felt no discomfort on her own part, and so did not stop. After what must have been a good minute or so, she turned and dropped to the floor beside him. Her head fell on his shoulder, and she turned her body half-into his. Closing her eyes, she prepared to coerce herself into slumber, until a gasp slipped through her lips, parted oh-so-slightly, when she felt an arm wrap around her back. His arm.

Surround my bones When my heart feels naked.

Opening her eyes, she met his own gaze. He looked weary, but grateful, somehow, and she realized after a few seconds he was glad she was there. Leaning just a little bit more into him, she tried to find something to say, but everything coming to mind fell short of what she truly wanted to tell him. He drew her closer and she felt the bristle of his 5-o'-clock beard scratching the top of her head. Sweet- a little kiss. Surely he was too sleepy to realize he'd done it, she cautioned herself, but not a thing in the world could make her move from this place, this moment.

No strength, too weak- I could use some saving.

Well, nothing save for him pulling her, rather roughly, into his lap. Before she could protest, squirm away- or, really, before she could remind herself to do so -he was rising, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers clasped at the nape of his neck, and she refused to look at him as he crossed the room, holding her as if she were as light as a pillow, stepping over his fellow soldiers as he went. She always liked that about him, that though he was an officer, he broke bread and sought rest with the youngest radioman and the oldest rifleman respectively.

When my world gets loud, could you make it quiet down?

Her head swam, to know she was in his arms, and could do nothing about it. Well, that's what she told herself, trying to calm and separate her thoughts into coherent courses. If she'd been a year younger, a year less wise, a year out of war, she may have trembled. He turned at the armchair and sat down with her still in his arms. She laid her head on his chest. He was warm. His ribs protruded a little and she worried for a single second at his dietary habits, constricted by meager rations, before settling in for the rest of the night.

When my head, it pounds, could you turn down all the sound?

"You only wanted the chair."

He huffed a soft laugh. It breezed through her hair and she found she liked this, being here, with him. He couldn't possibly know. He wouldn't. She'd make sure of that, when the morning came. Tonight could be theirs. She could be selfish, and open, and gentle with him. The moon hid, nary a star twinkled in the sky. None would see her in her weakness. No, her tenderness. She was not weak for loving. Was she, for not proclaiming it? Questions like those were better left for the unforgiving light of day, when she could find it in herself to be more cynical, rational.

For now, why not dream a little?

If I lay in pain, by my side, would you stay?

She remembered Carentan. Recalled the shot that blistered through her thigh, caused a shout of alarm from her companions to take cover. Not one came to her aid. She didn't care, at the time. She could take care of herself. Not like this was her first time, being wounded in the leg. In fact, this made the fourth. As she crawled behind an overturned wagon, smelling the faintest remnants of flowers- good God, how recently had its harkener peddled his wares on these decimated cobblestones? -she met his gaze. Lewis'. Dark and sharp and as soon as they flicked to the blood coating her pant leg, scared.

It was the only time she'd ever seen him afraid. Not even in Bastogne had he looked up at the sky with concern, shells pouring from the heavens like the world had flipped upside down and hell was above rather than below.

Now, as she felt him kiss the top of her head a second time- not a sleepy mistake, she was forced to conclude, hating and loving the shiver her heart gave -she remembered how he held her, almost like this, as artillery traversed the air in a deadly symphony. If she listened hard, she could almost hear a Beethoven tune interwoven in the whistling of bullets, sighs of falling shells, timpani rumbles of grenades. She never told him about that. Maybe she should have.

If I need you now, would you kindly calm me down?

Lewis brushed her hair with a gentle hand. Éva whispered for him to go to sleep. Another chuckle, breathy and hushed, met her request. He wouldn't listen to her. He never did. She found herself not caring, this time. Was it selfish, to want to stay like this, past the six o'clock out-of-tune chime of the old church bells, lofty in their stratospheric perch? Then let the vice take hold, she would welcome it if only she could dream a little longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Song inspiration: “Kindly Calm Me Down” by Meghan Trainor

Thank you so much for the request! 😍💖

#band of brothers oc #eva delafose #eva delafose ficlet #hbo war oc #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #oc fanfic #oc fic #band of brothers oc ficlet #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #band of brothers #hbo war show #hbo war #💋📖#le défi des français

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standbi-ghost · 3 years

Text

Guess I’ll Just kms

Words: 1812

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide (technically), suicidal thoughts, panic attack

Go say hi on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387829

In order to go ghost, Danny has to kill himself. It isn’t that bad really, but when his mom finds a journal where he keeps track of the best ways to kill himself (which sounds sketch in and of itself) and thinks he’s suicidal, he has an important decision to make.

It was a grounding feeling; the cold touch of a knife pressed to his throat. What once would’ve frightened him to no end, was now becoming something of a constant in his otherwise chaotic life. He let the knife find its keep and in seconds, his Jugular vein was sliced.

As he let the all too familiar feeling of his ghostly transformation happen, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the ghastliness of his situation. Was this technically suicide? No, probably not, it’s not like he was actually dying, just, playing dead. Lots of animals do it in self-defense and this wasn’t that far off. Plus, Danny knew he didn’t want to die, or in his case, cease to exist, right?

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he turned to see Skulker already in a fighting stance. He sighed and shot into the sky ready for the chase to begin.

At the cursed hour of 4 in the morning, Danny found himself sneaking into his own room. He flopped onto his mattress and let out a long, well-deserved mind you, groan.

He felt like he’d been run over by a car which was probably because that’s exactly what happened. Hey, to be fair, he had also been invisible. How was the poor driver supposed to know Danny was stupidly floating in the middle of the road? The driver was fine too, a little shaken up but he managed to phase him out of his car before any damage was done to him.

He lazily snaked his arm into his abandoned backpack and pulled out a dying black notebook barely holding itself together by a thread. There were rips, tears, and folds everywhere and a suspicious amount of green and brown stains were spattered throughout the pages. He liked to joke that it was his own personal Death Note except the only one doing any dying was him. It had started out as a way to record which death methods were quick and easiest, which were dramatic but efficient, which shouldn’t be tried again, but it had developed into a coping mechanism of sorts, some kind of morbid diary filled with a mixture rants and execution plans. He flipped to the next clean page and began to write his death-of-the-day and the events that followed.

A sinking calm settled into his core as he continued to rant about missing yet another test because of Skulker. He was halfway done with the entry when his eyes began to flutter closed, no longer being able to fight his body’s plea for rest.

He didn’t hear the soft creak of his door open, didn’t see the hand reach out and take his notebook, didn’t feel that same hand run itself through his hair, giving way for a pair of lips to kiss his forehead.

When his alarm went off at the usual 6 am it always did, he didn’t notice the suffocating stagnant air in the room, just stretched out his sore limbs, rubbed his eyes awake, and went on with his usual morning routine.

As he made his way downstairs, Danny made sure to annoyingly, as any younger sibling should, yell at his sister.

“Jazz I swear to the Ancients that if you try and leave without me again, I will piss your pants, you know I can’t be late again, Mr. Lancer-”

His voice trailed off when he took in the sight of his parents before him.

His dad was avoiding direct eye contact in the most obvious manner. His mom was wearing a watery smile, most likely trying to mask whatever had both his parents so tense. For a second, he panicked. Had they figured it out? What was it? Was it the mannerism, the eyes, the hair?

“Danny?”

He looked up from his panicked haze and saw concern plastered on both his parents’ faces. It looked wrong.

“Uh- where’s Jazz?” he asked, looking around in a last-ditch effort to crawl out from under their crushing gaze.

“Jazz left for school early today, something about a meeting with one of the counselors” his dad quietly responded, almost like he was tiptoeing around Danny, which set off all kinds of red flags.

For one it was hard to forget his dad could even be that subdued, the man practically radiated excitement. He also seemed, tired. Not the kind of tired you get after working at a lab all day, no, this was a soul-crushing tired, one that reflected inner turmoil. He looked away to catch his mom’s gaze only to look Danny in the eyes again, a forced smile finding its way on his face.

“Danny boy, we just wanted to talk to you about some- about how you’re doing.”

“I- uh, don’t know what you mean dad” he stuttered out.

“You’ve just been really closed off lately and, as your parents, we worry Danny.”

He turned his wide eyes towards his mother. Had he heard her right? They worried? Had he been worrying his parents? Was he a distraction? He was already indirectly messing with their inventions but now he was distracting them too. What kind of son-

“I’m fine. I mean, school’s been, uh- something, but I’ve been dealing- “

“Danny, are you suicidal?”

It came out as a whisper, but it echoed loudly in his head.

All he could do was stare, mouth agape, desperately trying to form words in his favor.

Heavy wasn’t the right word to describe the air in the room. Suffocating came closer. How was he even supposed to respond to that? If he told his parents the truth, they would hate him for keeping it a secret for so long. For lying to them, manipulating them, making a fool out of them. They would do much worse than dissect him, they would no longer see him as their son and that cut deeper than any scalpel could. On the other hand, if he lied and told them he was suicidal, they would ship him off to a loony bin. They would stuff him with pills and strip his mind away from him leaving him an empty husk of a person. And would it even be a lie? How many times had the thought crossed his mind? How many times had he begged for death at the end of an alleyway, at the bottom of a ditch, passed out at the foot of his bed, only to get up, dust off, and continue to live- no- to exist as a drone.

His breath began to pick up- could he even call it a breath? He knew if he didn’t say something, anything, his parents would come up with their own answer. What was the question again? Why couldn’t he think straight? He would lose any and all control he may have had. Was he in control? Why couldn’t he control his own body? His own mind? His thoughts were racing, and he was dragging behind them. Why was everything moving so fast? Why couldn’t he catch a break for once? He felt like a cornered animal, quite literally too. A feral growl crawled out of his throat as he backed himself into a wall, attempting to make himself look less pathetic. Attempting to make himself look like a threat. Maybe then they’ll go away. Maybe then he would stop hurting so much.

Don’t let them know you’re weak.

They’ll hurt you.

They won’t understand.

They’ll never love you.

How could they love you?

You-

“Danny”

And just like that, the fog dispersed and he was left stranded in the empty halls of his mind. He felt the cold wall behind him taunting him with its cold embrace.

“Danny it’s okay, you’re okay, breathe”

That was his mom’s voice. He felt the adrenaline seep out of him, embarrassment taking its place. That was all the confirmation they needed. He was fucked. No matter what they thought of him before, nothing could erase the scene he had just caused. Ancients he was fucked. What even was that? What normal person freaks out over a simple question?

He groaned as he let his face fall into the palm of his hands. He felt a wave of shame wash over him as his mom took him in her arms.

For a moment everything was back to normal. There was still tension in the air, but it all melted in the warm embrace of his mom.

“I found your notebook last night.”

And with that, it all made sense. He flinched out of her embrace and felt shame at seeing the hurt on her face the action caused. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chapped lips. Of course, the one escape he had was what had exposed him. It was naïve of him to think that no one would find the notebook he practically carried everywhere. Sooner or later this had been bound to happen, he just hoped it would be later. He had been careless and now he was paying for it.

“I guess I should come clean huh?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, terrified, but he couldn’t shake the possibility that maybe, maybe, his parents would support him, be there for him. The very thought left a warm feeling in him.

“It started a few weeks before Freshman year...”

And so, he let the dam break. 3 years filled with pain and fear poured out in a flurry of words. He found that, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t help but flinch as his dad reached out and took his small hands in his. He looked him dead in the eyes, searching for confirmation, that this was okay, and when Danny nodded, he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his mom following closely behind.

“Oh Danny, how could you not tell us?” his dad asked.

“We’re sorry for making you feel anything but loved and accepted. There is nothing you could do or become that could get rid of our love for you.”

So that’s how he found himself skipping school, in a cuddle pile with his parents, binge-watching Star Wars, Marvel movies, and the occasional Space Documentary.

And when Jazz got home after school that evening, she didn’t question the sight of her parents holding on to Danny for dear life in the middle of their living room, caught in a pile of pillows, blankets, and love, acceptance. She just smiled, shook her head, and made her way up the stairs.

She would have a talk with her brother about his mental health another time. Right now, she knew, everything would be okay.

“oh uh, you guys should probably stay far away from the red bulls in my room.”

“Wha- “

“I may or may not have filled them with arsenic...”

“Daniel James Fenton”

“It's death on the go!”

Everything would be okay.

#yall want angst?#angst #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #danny phantom au #alternate universe #fentons #maddie fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #fanfiction #suicide?#not really #panic attack #identity reveal #family fluff #angst with a happy ending

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jennycalendar · 3 years

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not posting this to ao3 bc the convoluted context only exists on tumblr, but here’s a mini thing i wrote today from that au where oz is dating giles and jenny’s daughter. also giles and jenny were in a band together pre-canon for a little while and have a very convoluted love story that i swear will eventually be a fic. fun times.

other things pre-fic that are fun:

ripper and jenny spent like a decade in la co-running a music store together while also raising their kids. jenny handled the actual business, ripper taught guitar classes on the side. janna is very musically gifted but teddy can’t carry a tune to save her life.

theoretically this is a version of canon where janna and buffy are the same age, and someday i will also write the fic where janna appoints herself buffy’s watcher, kicks wesley in the knees, and screams at every member of the council that comes near buffy. she’s heard enough horror stories from her dad.

“Are you nervous?”

The question took Oz by surprise. “Should I be?”

Janna didn’t answer. When he turned to look at her, he saw that she was looking out the window at what he assumed was their final destination: a relatively ordinary-looking house with the beginnings of a vegetable garden on the front lawn. “The last time I brought a guy home to meet my parents, he was super nervous,” she said. “Like, all spacey and weird. My dad was extra nice to him to compensate, but my mom kinda antagonized him a little ‘cause she thought it was funny. She probably won’t do that to you, though. I bet she’ll like you. I mean, she likes pretty much all my friends that I actually care about, and last time I brought a guy home I didn’t actually like him. Mostly it was just to show up Teddy ‘cause she’s always giving me grief about—”

Abruptly, Oz understood. Without a word, he gently tugged Janna’s clenched fists into his own hands, untangling the tightly coiled fingers to lace them with his own.

Janna exhaled. Shakily, she said, “I just really want them to like you.”

“I know,” said Oz.

“I mean really. Usually I don’t care a whole bunch, but you’re different.”

“I know,” said Oz.

“And sometimes my mom can be a little mean. Not like mean-mean, she’s just like that, it’s her way of being nice—”

Oz tugged on Janna’s hands, pulling her into a careful hug. Janna let out a nervous laugh and pressed a clumsy kiss just under his jaw. “I’m a pretty easy guy to like,” he said. “Unless your parents are the kind that don’t like it when a guy is in a band.”

“That would be totally hypocritical,” said Janna. “They were in a band.”

Processing this, Oz felt a slow smile sneak across his face. “So it’s genetic?”

Janna blinked, then smiled too. “Kinda, yeah! They ran a music store in LA till we moved. My dad’s the one who taught me how to play guitar and sing and stuff. He’s not classically trained or anything, but he takes it super seriously.”

“Your dad sounds pretty cool,” said Oz.

“He is pretty cool,” said Janna, her smile growing.

Gently, Oz tugged on Janna’s hand, then let go to open his door and get out of the car. He crossed around to open the door for her too, extending a hand to help her out. She laughed, letting him pull her out of the car, and tripped very purposefully to fall for a moment against his chest; he nudged the car door shut behind her and tugged her into a hug. “We got this, Jay,” he said, smoothing down her hair.

Though she was still very clearly nervous, Janna nodded, tucking her arm into his as they walked up the driveway. Oz rang the doorbell.

Thudding footsteps came from inside the house. Janna groaned. “Oh, no,” she muttered under her breath.

“Is this the boyfriend?” demanded a voice as the door was wrenched open. Looking down, Oz saw a small girl of about twelve surveying the two of them with interest. “I thought he’d be taller. How come he’s shorter than you? Why—”

“I am gonna punt you into next Tuesday, Teddy,” Janna threatened.

“Oh, this is Theodora?” said Oz with interest. “Pleasure.”

“At least someone has manners,” said Teddy with great dignity, turning on her heel and striding down the hall.

“Aren’t you gonna invite us in?” Janna yelled after her.

“Nope!” Teddy yelled back. “You’re probably vampires!”

“Someday I’m gonna kick her like a soccer ball and no one will ever see her again,” Janna was muttering as she yanked Oz over the threshold, roughly divesting him of his coat to hang it on a nearby coat tree. “I used to play soccer in middle school and I think I still know how to do it. Maybe I can get Buffy to do it. I bet if I kicked her really hard—”

“No kicking your sister,” came a very familiar voice.

If Oz was the kind of person whose jaw dropped, he thought it might have right then. Standing in the kitchen doorway was none other than Jenny Calendar, the original drummer for the Spitfires—the one who had toured with the band for two years before she and the lead guitarist dropped out to raise a kid. Jenny Calendar was looking between the two of them with an intrigued grin. Oz had a record with this lady’s face on it. “Uh,” he said. “What?”

“What?” said Janna, as though this was just a normal meeting between Oz and his girlfriend’s mom. “Anyway, mom, this is Oz. Oz, this is my mom, she—”

“I know who she is,” said Oz.

“Well, duh, I just told you,” said Janna. “Where’s Dad? Is he upstairs dissecting bug things for Buffy again?”

“Yeah, that was one time and I told them both they’re never doing that again. That’s my job in this house.” Jenny ruffled Janna’s hair. “Glad nothing ate you on your way here.”

“If it does, you gotta make a necklace out of my bones or something metal like that,” said Janna very seriously.

“God, you’re just like your dad,” said Jenny.

“Oh, yeah, it’s me she gets it from,” quipped Ripper, rounding the corner with Teddy on his shoulders. “Not like anyone else in this house was violent and terrifying at fifteen.”

“Okay, one, shut up. Two, no one needs to hear any of those stories. Three, shut up.” Jenny punched Ripper’s shoulder, careful to avoid jostling Teddy.

Oz was thankfully a little bit more prepared for Ripper’s entrance. If the Spitfires’ drummer was Janna’s mom, the lead guitarist pretty much had to be her dad. “Uh, hey, Janna,” he said, tugging at his girlfriend’s sleeve, “can we—talk outside for a sec?”

Janna looked a little puzzled, but acquiesced without much argument.

Shutting the door behind them, Oz said, “Your parents are Jenny and Ripper.”

“Huh?” said Janna, then, “Oh,” and then her face split open in a huge smile. “I didn’t know you knew about them! Pretty much nobody does! They left the Spitfires before the band got big, so it’s not like I bring it up a lot—”

“Okay, this makes so much sense,” said Oz.

Janna blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your whole,” Oz waved a hand, “cool thing. It’s not just you, it’s genetic.” He grinned. “I don’t think I stood a chance.”

Janna went very pink, her smile impossibly bright. “You totally have to tell them you like their stuff,” she said. “Dad’s kinda mellow about it, but Mom has these insane stories from the years before she and Dad hooked up and she loves telling people about them.”

“Well, I’d love to hear your mom’s cool band stories,” said Oz, squeezing Janna’s hand. “Probably have a few of our own to share, right?”

“I mean, I’ve told them most of my good ones,” said Janna. “Remember that one time I broke a guitar over Devon’s head?”

“Fondly,” said Oz.

Janna snickered. “Dad’s done worse,” she said. “He was in Wretched for a little while. It was more of a Brit thing so you probably haven’t heard of it, but we have a demo album that they made and it’s soooo bad—”

“Mom wants to know when you’re coming in for dinner!” Teddy yelled from inside the house.

“IN A MINUTE!” Janna yelled back.

“We could go in now,” Oz suggested, “if you—”

Draping her arms around his neck, Janna said, “Give me a minute, Daniel.”

~~~

“Oh my god, I love him,” said Jenny delightedly. “Rupert, he knows our stuff! Does anyone ever know our stuff?”

“Janna’s last one didn’t,” said Ripper, attempting to take a forkful of casserole off his wife’s plate. Jenny whacked his fork with her knife. “Though I do think our darling Teddy psychologically broke the poor chap halfway through dessert.”

“If he was weak enough to be broken by a fifth-grader, he deserved to start crying,” said Teddy mildly. “It’s just facts.”

“She gets the mean streak from me,” said Jenny affectionately, looking at Teddy with adoring pride. “Mama’s girl.”

“They both get the mean streak from you,” said Ripper. Jenny started throwing wadded-up paper towels at him. “See?” he said, catching one of them and lobbing it back in his wife’s direction. “This. This is what I mean.”

“Your family is cool,” said Oz. “My mom’s gonna have a lot to measure up to.”

“Oh god I have to meet your mom?” squeaked Janna. “No one’s ever wanted me to meet their mom! Oh my god, you didn’t—why would I—”

“You know she’s never been this nervous about anyone she’s dated?” said Teddy conspiratorially to Oz. “I think she really likes you. Plus she writes your names together all the time on the fogged-up mirror in the bathroom and she made you a mixtape but she’s too scared to give it—”

“I’m gonna throw you out a goddamn window,” Janna hissed in Teddy’s direction. “You better believe I will.”

“Oz, you’re in a band, yeah?” said Ripper, giving Oz a little grin. “Might be nice to play sometime together, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I would,” said Oz, and smiled back.

#fic #janna au #calendiles #ISH but they're married #(they got spontaneously married in vegas so that it would be easier to co-run a business)#anyway: yes. pls enjoy this snip. i am writing again now but it's all stuff that will take a while to see the light of day.

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jjba-hell · 3 years

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Fate and Fortune

Aight so now we gettin’ angsty... (I must beg for forgiveness in advance, I am not the best at writing shock or action ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

Part 2 of the series and again, the context I give you in the piece is all you’ll need for now. Except maybe for my anime exclusive watchers (not that there’s anything wrong with that)- Vera does undergo my interpretation of the stand fever which is something that Avdol (Abdul??) is very well acquainted with.

I’ma just link Part 1 over here...

Content warning is: violence, blood and gore, some themes of death and rebirth but not particularly explicit in either. (Lemme know if I missed one)

For the moots: @risottoneroo (welp I guess you’re stuck with me) @giogio-gucci-gangstar @rat-makes-stuff @uttertrash and @dongiovannaswife (omg hi thanks for following me)

2.1 K words

Vera returned home after another pleasant shift at the shop, dropping her home keys into the ceramic bowl at the front door. “Mom, Dad. I’m home.”

She unraveled the traveling scarf from her head and locked the door behind her, finding the silence and the slight chill to the house a bit suspsicous. The sun had already set so a chill wasn’t uncommon but...inside? Her mother always kept the thermostat warm- she couldn’t stand the cold.

“Mom?”

There was no smell of food from the kitchen.

Panic rapidly clawed its way up Vera’s spine, setting every nerve in her body on fire. The continued silence did nothing to ease the worry in her body.

“Dad?”

More silence- she broke out into a sprint towards the kitchen, turning into the kitchen to find…

The dark, slick blood of her mother running along the marbled floor of the kitchen- her face covered with her own black tresses. The shock only electrified Vera’s nerves further- her breath coming in ragged huffs as her feet stepped closer to her mother’s body, sprawled on the floor on her back, eyes gone pale and glassy already. Vera was desperate to crawl closer and check for a pulse or a breath, anything to deny the reality of what she was seein. But deep within her, she knew her mother was gone- there was no way she’d be able to survive her throat being ripped into bloody shreds like that.

Her body stopped its dazed walk as the reality set in and soon her hands flew up to cover her mouth, the scream getting caught in her throat as she backed away- as if walking away was all it took.

Dad. Where’s dad?

Vera scattered towards his study, running to the other end of the hallway, ignoring the carpets sliding underneath her feet to find a scene not much better than the kitchen- with her father’s head bleeding out over his desk, face down on the desktop.

The cold ran through her body like ice, every nerve once on fire now turned stone cold as the tears sprung to her eyes, knees giving out underneath her. Her lungs burned for air in her chest but whatever breath she took felt like it wasn’t reaching- like she couldn’t get her body to obey her long enough to breathe and not even so much as a wheeeze would escape her lips- the tears flowing freely.

“My my my. What a pretty little thing.” A deep sultry voice purred and in an instant her breath was back with a gasp, her neck craning around to see a figure cloaked in the darkness of the hallway. A man. Tall and sturdy in stature. After the shock passed for a moment the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Vera scrambled frantically back in fear, her back hitting her father’s office desk, heartbeat in her ears overwhelming the question she asked the man slinking closer to her. “Did- did you do this?”

The figure stepped forward to reveal a sickeningly handsome face framed by golden hair. Red eyes- hypnotically alluring as he slowly moved closer to her cowering form on the floor.

His smirk turned into a pleased smile and suddenly she was overcome by fear once again, knocked from the little daze of admiration. The glinting fangs in his mouth connecting to her mother’s bleeding throat. It had to be him. Who or what else could have done this?

“It’s such a shame you parents had to perish for your sake, my dear. They seemed so shocked when I asked them where their little magician in training was. I assumed they were lying until their very last breaths- if only you had…”

As he continued taunting her, the wheels in Vera’s head were spinning. Her initial reaction was to book it out of the nearest window, but those thoughts were quickly interupted by the blonde monstroity kneeling right in front of her and a black lacquered claw digging into her cheek as he pinched her jaw in one hand. “Now now, no need to make a fuss, darling. It will be over soon, I promise. You’ll be meeting your parents soon.”

Her eyes continued to water at the pain in her cheek. He gripped her chin harder, feeling as though he was aiming to crush her lower jaw between her thumb and forefinger- the immense strength of his hold stretching her neck impossibly wide, bringing his lips to her neck.

Something inside of her, from the deepest recesses of her chest, felt like it snapped at the mere inclination of the blonde’s head toward her neck. Her eyes shut and what felt like nothing but the sheer force of her own desperaion, fear, and shock all turned into one thing- the wish that this bastard be thrown out the window in the room opposite the hall. To her, that was all it was, a refusal for it to end like this. Whatever adrenaline was running through her system in that moment, it made her bold- having her grab hold of the intruder’s blonde locks and with a force she didn’t even know her own body was capable of producing- she shoved him back- aiming for the hallway and beyond. All the energy expelled form her body threw the bastard back, beyond the hallway and through the glass window of the room opposite the office.

Now was her chance, she knew she had no time to lose. She grabbed hold of her father’s business phone off the table and threw herself out of the window while that same surge of energy moved through her veins, projecting a few inches from her skin like armor. As she sprinted down the street she came from, without so much as a pause, she called the police first. Her body seemed to know where it was going better than she did, it took a few turns for her mind to catch up to her body. She was running towards Avdol’s shop- thinking it’s the only place she’d feel safe at that moment. To the police, out of breath and straining to speak, she detailed what she had seen until they confirmed that they would check out what was going on soon. She was about halfway to the shop when she called Muhammed.

“Muhammed, please meet me at the shop. I’m scared and I’m....I’m...”

“Are you on your way here?”

“Yes!” The relief spilled over in tears over her cheeks. “Please tell me you-“

“I’m still here Vera. I’ll be here.”

Time seemed to escape her after she tossed her dad’s phone to the street and sprinted toward the shop where Abdul opened the door for her after the first knock. “Vera! What happened?”

Out of breath and now feeling like she was on fire from the running, the tears streamed down her face and with the most painfully forced exertion her body could manage, she sobbed. “A man. My parents. They’re both dead. I- he wanted me. He-“

“Did he lay a hand on you?”

“Wanted to but I...Something happened and- I don’t know what’s going on. I called the cops and just ran-“

Her breathing became more ragged as her body tore itself between sobbing and breathing- her world growing dizzy as she leaned against the tarot table. “Vera, please take a deep breath, you’re going to-“

Avdol tried to get her to sit down, grabbing her shoulders to steady her into a seat, trying to guide her back to gaining her breath back but it was too late. Vera’s knees buckled and the dark corners around her vision overwhelmed her completely- the floor being the last thing she saw before her body forced itself asleep. Only to be welcomed with fire.

This fire within her bones- it felt physical and yet not. It gave no light, nor reprive like a flame licking at firewood. It was dark, pitch black with the heat only growing steadier- rising higher and higher. And then, as if to reward her for surviving that far- she regained some consciousness.

When she woke up, she frantically gasped for breath under heavy covers and a cold compress to her forehead. She opened her eyes only to be welcomed with unfocused, dizzy vision. Her whole body seemed to sit on the precipice of two extremes. Unbearable cold and sweltering heat. She felt her breathing labored, the control over her own body growing weaker the longer she strained her eyes to see. Avdol soon came into her field of vision, peering down at her with immense concern.

With a hoarse voice that didn’t even seem like hers, she croaked out. “Muhammed, what- I-“

He hushed her, bringing a bottle of cold water her lips which she drank happily with chapped lips.

“Remember the death card we spoke on the first day we met?”

She nodded, the effort making it feel like she’d already exerted herself.

“I’m sorry, Vera but it seems to have come into effect. Your life is making a turn bigger than either one of us can even begin to understand. I will do my best to keep your physical self alive but this battle is within you. Your fighting spirit is all you have to take you through this.”

She regained her strength for a moment, his words of ominous premonition being forgotten as she remembered why he was the one helping her drink water instead of her mother...

“Muhammed, my parents. My parents they-“ the tears started to leak from her eyes once more. “They’re dead, aren’t they.”

Avdol didn’t answer, as he offered her another sip of water.

Vera felt as though she had cried yourself to sleep once more, the puffiness of her eyes making it feel like her eyes were swelling themselves shut and the ache behind her eyes growing more intense.

She had no idea how long the battle within the heat of her own body would take.

She saw nothing for the entirety of her struggle- a battle waged in the dark. Her body felt like it was constantly on the precipice of either boiling blood in her veins and extremities feeling like they were frozen stiff. Through it all, questions and choices started to bubble up and swirl in her delusional little mind.”

“Stop fighting it- let it happen.”

“You’ll find peace if you stop fighting your body.”

“Let go.”

“Find the middle.”

“Use them against each other.”

Somewhere among the chaos of her own pain, one voice seemed to hold the strongest- a voice much like her own but perhaps a bit more warped and echoed. Its sound soothed incredulously and helped her make the choice. She had understood that at that moment, her body was a battlefield and with the most stubborn refusal to die like that- she put an end to the war raging inside of her.

It brought on even more pain- splitting these two opposing forces from one another like pulling skin from flesh. Until she had control over both, separtetly. That intense heat now feeding into something that moved outside of her body and laid dormant when out of use.

By the time she re-emerged from consciousness for good, her breath was strong, feeling as fresh and free as she was taking her first breath again.

Her body was sore but it felt like the kind of sore you felt after a good work out. Her head on the other hand, was the only part that was throbbing like she had had too much wine. The room was dark- moonlight gently streaming over the sheets covering her legs. Vera got up slowly, stretching with a few crackles of protest from some of her own stiff joints before walking off towards the door- looking for something to drink, preferably with alcohol.

It took her a moment to recognize the decorations up and down the hallway. She was in Avdol’s house.

To her luck Avdol’s kitchen was only a few steps up from the room she was staying in. His drinks cabinet located oh too easily in a glass case above the fridge.

He had refused her the first time he welcomed her into his home- when he ushered them both into his home when an unexpected sand storm blew through town and he didn’t want to risk her getting home on time. Now, she’d be damned if she didn’t get something to help ease the ache in her head.

Her fingers found the cheap vodka and then tiredly sighed as she cracked open the bottle and took a few gulps. The taste was intense- and perhaps not the most desirable taste straight from the brink of death.

Muhammed came into the kitchen, baring only a black tank top instead of his usual robes. “I see you survived.” Was all he said groggily.

“You seem to be hiding things from me, Mr Avdol.” She croaked through her hoarse voice. “How much you know about the man that took my parents from me is up for debate but...you seem well acquainted with that awful fever I had to endure to acquire this-”

Vera let the manifestation of her ‘lucky feeling’- that intense heat she had separated and tamed from her physical body- emerge freely from her body.

“Because strange as it may seem- I feel like you knew this would happen.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #muhammed avdol #Fate and Fortune

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

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The subject of Sucrose's new research is kissing, which is, admittedly, a little unorthodox.

A/N: Philematology is the scientific study of kissing. I like Sucrose and Albedo. They're cute. Read here on A03 for better quality. You can also follow me here on Twitter for updates and other neat stuff!

It starts the same as all her research does: an observation that grows into itching curiosity. The type that digs deep into your skin and roots there. It makes Sucrose restless, her fingers twitching uncontrollably as she thinks next what to do.

Admittedly, it’s a strange subject of study. She’s never quite considered it before, but it’s been increasingly obvious with every day that passes. Unable to be ignored.

Lips and mouths, more specifically kissing. Languid and smooth devotions of love, preferenced by those who wish to wear their hearts on their sleeves. The idea of kissing wasn’t ever disgusting to her, Sucrose just never thought about it.

Until it was all that she thought about. Still thinks about. Daydreams of at this point, something so entirely out of character for her. Sucrose tells herself that it’s part of her research.

Albedo is the one who makes it difficult, of course. She can’t focus on anything when he’s near. Her gaze always finds his lips, lingering.

More research, Sucrose tells herself. Certainly not like and definitely not love. Admiration, perhaps. That’s as far as she lets herself think.

“Sucrose?” Albedo asks her that day, blinking slowly as he regards her.

“Ah! Mr. Albedo,” she manages despite being shocked from her thoughts.

He watches her in that quiet, concerned way of his. “You look tired. Have you gotten enough rest?”

No, thinks Sucrose. She never does, not with how much research she has. Books upon books to read, and samples upon samples to examine. Of course, this isn’t what she tells him. “Naturally,” she says. “I made a point of it.”

Albedo’s gaze narrows just the slightest, as though he doesn’t believe her. “So you haven’t holed yourself in the lab for days on end?”

She has and he knows it. Sucrose bites at her lip, thinking quick. “I prioritized eating and took a nap.”

Albedo lets out a soft huff but doesn’t refute her claim. “All right, then,” he says. He lingers by the door, his hand resting gently on the frame. “Don’t work yourself to the bone, otherwise I’ll assign another vacation to you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Albedo,” says Sucrose, flashing him a smile.

“Sucrose, for what seems to be the thousandth time, it’s Albedo.”

Sucrose has spent the day watching the good citizens of Mondstandt.

More specifically, citizens that are on dates, sneaking a kiss or two. It’s all innocent. Sucrose’s scientific hobby of observation, that is. Definitely nothing strange about watching couples peck at each other as she jots down her notes.

She hasn’t figured out the appeal of it. Kissing serves no scientific purpose so why is it done? Why are couples seemingly lost in the feel and emotion of it? It isn’t that Sucrose is immune to romance. She’s read novels and felt affection.

Albedo’s visage forces its way into her brain and Sucrose frowns.

So, not the best idea, crushing on your boss. Not to mention, Albedo certainly deserves more than that. And yet, she can’t help but think of him and the way that he softly smiles. How her heart speeds up at the thought and sight of him.

Of how she might want to kiss him. Specifically him.

Hence the research. The affliction might go away if she figures the darn thing out.

So far, she hasn’t.

“Sucrose?” asks Albedo, pausing by the door of the lab. The same, worried tone as always. The same tiny little furrow that he gets in his brow. “Have you been working all day again?”

“Not all day,” she assures him. But it sounds flimsy even to her.

Albedo sighs and steps into the room. “On with it, then. What has you so engrossed this time?”

Sucrose’s mouth snaps shut, trying to figure out a way to navigate out of this. Kissing research might make sense to her but no doubt it would leave Albedo entirely confused. If not concerned.

“More bio-alchemic studies on sunsettias? Whatever happened to the potatoes-- did you manage to prevent rot for a half-year?”

“Lips,” blurts Sucrose without thinking. She’d been watching his mouth move as he spoke, daydreaming about whether or not his lips might be soft. Maybe they’re chapped with the way that he idly bites at them.

Albedo’s mouth pauses, hanging open. Unsure of what to say. “Lips,” he repeats.

“Er, kissing,” says Sucrose, scratching at her ear idly. “I’m studying the benefits of it. Does such closeness with another have added health benefits? Can it be amplified with a tonic of a sort? What if we can use it to heal?”

It sounds halfway convincing to her, at least.

Albedo’s expression turns, surprisingly, amused. “Philematology,” he says. “Not an entirely bad idea. I look forward to your findings.” Then he’s gone without another word like he usually is.

Sucrose blinks. Thinks. Ponders what just happened.

But she certainly isn’t going to complain.

It’s been three months, four days, and one hour since Sucrose first thought of kissing Albedo.

She knows the exact length of time because she’s painstakingly kept notes. Jotted down every thought about it. Tallied every instance of it, which now numbers in the dozens. A conservative estimate, at best.

There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. All of her careful observations have led to a conclusion: people kiss because they want to, and that’s that.

It does nothing to help her. Sucrose is entirely in a pickle. She hates things that don’t make sense, can’t stand the idea that there’s no basis for the how or why.

But most of all, Sucrose can’t figure out why she wants to engage in such a thing. It’s an annoying constant; the thrill of the idea, the way that her heart beats in titillating excitement at the mere thought. And of course, when she sees Albedo himself.

“Sucrose,” he says that day, starting his inquiry as he often does. “I must ask, whatever sparked your research into kissing?”

He seems genuinely curious. And maybe a little amused. Sucrose can’t help but turn pink in the face and scratch at her ear nervously. “You know how it goes, Mr. Albedo. Sometimes you see something that you can’t forget, and you have to study it further.”

Albedo steps closer, leaning against the desk that she sits at. Arms crossed over his chest as he ponders this. Sucrose does brilliantly in her efforts of maintaining her gaze on his face. Until she fails miserably, eyes slipping southward to where his lips are.

Soft-looking, incredibly pouty. A tad bit chapped, just as she originally guessed. It’s the closest she’s been to them and she can’t look away.

“Sucrose?” asks Albedo, leaning closer. He presses a finger underneath her chin and tilts her face up.

Sucrose must be bright red by now. She can feel the burn of her cheeks, the dryness of her mouth, the painful flutter of her chest as her heart beats wildly.

Albedo watches her for a moment, then offers her a gentle smile. “Ah, I see.”

“Um, Mr. Albedo--”

“Sucrose, would you like to kiss me?” He asks it so innocently. Frames it as though it’s for her research, offering himself up as a test subject. Only, he must know it isn’t like that.

“I--”

“Let me rephrase,” cuts in Albedo, dipping down to her level. He’s still sitting on the desk, leaning over on one hand, the other still gripping her chin softly. “I would like to kiss you if you would allow it.”

“For research purposes?” asks Sucrose, ever the scientist.

“If that’s what you wish. I, however, wish to do it earnestly.”

Sucrose kisses him. It isn’t fancy or complicated. She reaches up and pulls him down by the lapel of his jacket. And it’s more of a peck, than anything. A prolonged touching of the mouths.

“And what have you gleaned?” asks Albedo when they part, his mouth still near hers. Waiting.

“That your lips are just as soft as hypothesized,” says Sucrose. “But I fear there isn’t enough evidence. I might have to do more research. There’s much to be studied.”

Albedo chuckles softly before swooping in to steal another kiss.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #sucrose #albedo #sucrose/albedo

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