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landinoandco · 3 years

Text

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in.

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control.

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice.

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail.

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins.

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look.

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started.

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time.

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through.

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.”

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter.

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up.

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you.

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively.

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you.

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max.

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully.

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not.

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up.

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando.

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.”

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left.

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced.

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together.

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.”

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando.

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away.

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist.

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone.

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.”

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.”

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door.

Distracting the stream from his slip up.

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own.

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there.

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing.

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms.

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well.

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were.

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera.

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath.

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips.

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration.

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?”

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile.

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been.

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.”

He had already started it...

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foli-vora · 3 years

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more than words, pt.4

A/N: Hello, angels! I hope you’re all safe and healthy! Next instalment is here, and I’m very excited for what’s coming. I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy, too! Love to you all! (I hope I haven’t forgotten to tag anyone but if I did, I’m really sorry!)

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, swearing, brief alcohol mention, bit of spice (reminder: this fic is 18+), Frankie being the tease he is

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.5 / pt.6

Your lips were still tingling when you woke the next morning, eyes fluttering open and a smile creeping onto your face as the events from last night replay through your mind for the millionth time. Frankie had been on your mind the entire drive home, the tenderness of his first kiss kicking your heart into double time, and the pure unrestrained passion of the kiss that followed hitting a far lot lower.

Was it possible for a first date to go as well as it did? There wasn’t a single moment in your time spent with Frankie that had you unsure about his character or intentions.

Benny had actually done it. He had found you a guy you really liked. Is Hell freezing over?

You reach for your phone as you slip from bed, stretching leisurely as you make your way to the kitchen, and finding Benny’s contact before pressing ‘call’. It takes a few rings, until his drawl finally greets you through the phone.

“Did you puke?” is his immediate answer and you roll your eyes, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you putter around your kitchen putting some breakfast together.

“No, you asshole.”

He laughs. “He’s that whipped, he’d probably thank you.”

What? What does that mean? Has Frankie spoken to Benny? Did he talk about last night? What did he say? Did he think it went as well as you did? Shit. Calm down. You try to steady your suddenly quickening pulse, a pleasant flutter consuming your stomach as you attempt to sound casual.

“Oh? Has he said something?”

Benny’s voice is sly, teasing – he knows you far too well. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Maybe I’m sitting next to him right now. And maybe he’s sitting here blushin’ like a little –” Benny grunts suddenly, seemingly in pain, and the phone crackles as he shifts on the other end, “don’t fuckin’ kick me. Anyway, Fish wants to know what you’re wearing.”

You hear him then, raspy voice piping up in the background with an aghast ‘What?! No–’ and then there’s more scuffling, more grunts of pain, and Benny’s snort of laughter.

“What are you even doing up?” Benny redirects his attention to you after a few minutes of bickering with Frankie, words muffled as he talks around whatever food he has rolling around his mouth. He had noted the early time when your face had flashed over his screen, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten you up and out of bed so early on a day off.

You shrug lightly, even though he couldn’t see it, and prepare your pancake batter. “Just couldn’t sleep in.”

He’s quiet, chewing thoughtfully and then asking softly, “You okay?”

“Yeah – I’m fine, just bored sitting at home. For some reason, I wanted to see what you were up to and if you wanted to hang out, but you’re busy so never mind.”

Benny laughs, “Aw, you missin’ me, angel?” he teases.

“Ugh, I take it back. I’d rather sit here in silence and stare at my wall.”

You can hear him laughing even as you pull your phone away and press the red button, shaking your head and smiling to yourself.

A week passes by before you even know it, work taking over much of your week, and much to your delight, Frankie had eagerly organised another night to meet up. You had talked all week of course – a phone call every evening once Mena had been put down for the night, texts here and there throughout the day, and when he had asked if you were free at all over the weekend, you had agreed without a second thought.

Eagerness buzzes through your system the entire day of the date and the drive to the restaurant, a much welcome change from the anxiety riddled one before. It was a breath of fresh air.

Frankie was waiting for you, as he said he would, leaning against the wall of the restaurant and a smile immediately widening his features when his eyes find you.

This time there was no hesitation, no voice in the back of your mind wondering how to tackle the situation. As soon as you saw him – you couldn’t help yourself – you were in his arms and giving him a soft kiss in greeting. Pleasantly surprised, he smiles against your lips, arms winding around your waist, and the electric tingles that rocket up from your palm when his rough hand gently takes yours has your heart going wild in your chest.

It’s dinner instead of drinks this time, and the two of you squeeze yourselves into one side of the leather booths, instead of sitting opposite each other. You order quickly, and sip at your beer while you listen to Frankie talk about his week, the conversation soon moving in all sorts of directions as you wait for your food.

“How could you not?” You cry at one point, slapping a hand on the table and watching his shoulders shake as he laughs, stomach twisting at the pleasant sound of it. “The universe is huge – like, huge. We are not alone.” You say ominously, and he laughs harder, head hitting the back of the booth.

“Where’s the proof?”

“What?”

“The proof! If it’s so big and we’re not the only ones here, where is everyone?”

“It’s a cover up.” You sniff indifferently, sipping your drink and fighting the twitches threatening to turn your pursed lips into a smile. “Oh my god, you were in the military – are you in on it?”

He’s struggling to breathe, cheeks aching under the grin stretching his features and stomach starting to cramp. “In on what?”

“That’s it! You’re part of the cover up!”

“Yeah, you’ve got me. I was actually a part of a crew chasing away UFO’s.”

No longer able to keep it in, you erupt into a fit of violent giggles, melting over the table top and letting the laughter shake your frame. Frankie watches you fondly, affection flooding his system and causing his insides to warm pleasantly.

He was still trying to work out how he was here, with a beautiful woman, having great conversations, fun conversations, and laughing more than he had in… shit… a long time. It was refreshing and, if he were completely honest with himself, slightly nerve-wracking. Nothing ever stays so perfect, and that thought had him ensuring he was enjoying every second he could with you before you inevitably realised you were incredibly out of his league and went looking elsewhere.

But… how could you ever? When you peak up at him, you can’t help but study the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his dimples deepen in his cheek, and you honestly couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. It was… scary. You’d only known him a couple of weeks, and you were feeling like this?

The night melts away before you both even know it happens and soon, you’re snatching up the bill before he can move, and walking out onto the street, Frankie’s arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you pressed close up to his side as a sharp late evening breeze sweeps through you both.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Chickens?”

“I’m sorry, but have you ever been chased by a rooster? Those things are fucking vicious, Frankie.”

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Okay, well what about you?”

“Heights.”

What?

You frown, “But you’re a pilot?”

“I can handle heights if I can control the situation. Flying is easy – I know what to do when I need to do it. It’s when something’s out of my control – falling off a cliff and shit. It’s just… a long way down.” He’s quiet, obviously dwelling on something before he’s shaking his head and smiling, “Do you have a favourite book?”

The short walk to your car takes longer with the leisurely pace you both had unconsciously set, wanting to milk the remaining minutes of the date as much as you could before having to part ways.

“Thank you for dinner.” He spins you into his arms and you laugh quietly, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence falls over you both as you regard the other.

Frankie… your voice is so quiet, the soft whisper of it dances in his ears, igniting a fire through his veins. He unconsciously presses himself closer, lost in the way your lashes flutter when you look at him. You raise a hand, fingers trailing softly against his jaw and he turns his face into your touch, chasing the feeling of your warm fingertips as they glide up and around his neck.

“Kiss me?”

He smiles, enjoying the way your face scrunches slightly as he nuzzles his nose against yours, “Say please,” he mutters playfully, grin widening when you breathe a quiet giggle.

“Please kiss me, Francisco.”

Oh shit.

You don’t miss the way his face slackens for a brief moment, eyes widening and breath seemingly getting caught in his throat. He swallows, the flicker of a flame that had been burning lowly in his stomach suddenly blazes red hot and then he’s moving, hands cupping your cheeks and claiming your mouth with an intensity that had your knees buckling the second his lips touched yours.

You melt instantly, unable to stop the small whimper that bubbles from your mouth as his tongue traces teasingly along your lip. You open your mouth automatically, tongue immediately sliding greedily along his. His mouth was hot, rough against yours, and the grunt he lets out when your fingers dig into the dark curls at the nape of his neck has a delicious heat shooting to your core, your hips rolling against his.

Fuck. Did you just grind on him?

The sudden stab of panic at potentially going too far is quickly extinguished when his hands fly to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you tight up against him while his fingers dig hungrily into your flesh.

The sudden blaring of a car alarm has you both jumping apart and a mile high, Frankie’s hands tightening on you instinctively, and it’s not until you look around that you discover it’s your car making that God awful noise that is ripping your ear drums apart.

“Shit,” you fumble for your keys, quickly pressing the button while Frankie chuckles into the skin of your throat, hands softly rubbing up and down along your waist to calm you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” He grins, not at all remorseful for causing such a big disturbance. “It was probably for the best – any longer and we might’ve been arrested for indecent exposure.” The words are growled playfully against your skin, but you can’t help thinking he wasn’t far from the truth. You laugh, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso and placing a final kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Drive safe,” you say as he begins to pull back, and he smiles warmly at you.

“You too.”

You slip into your car, watch him disappear down the street and sigh dreamily, body working on auto-pilot for the drive home while your head remains firmly in the clouds. You could only hope you had actually somewhat paid attention to the road and didn’t miss any stop signs or red lights.

Your phone goes off in your hand when you eventually walk through the door to your apartment, and you read the text as you shrug off your jacket. Your eyes have to read it back and forth a few times before the words actually sink in, and then you’re holding it to your chest, delicately cradling the device while you rest heavily on your door, heat flushing along your cheeks.

I’ve thought about whether or not I should say this the entire drive home, but fuck it... miss you already.

Well, fuck.

Delivering a sharp little karate chop to the remaining flat cushion on your couch to fluff it, you place it with the others and then neaten the edges of the blanket hanging over the back, casting one final glance around your apartment and trying to imagine seeing it through a visitor’s eyes.

Clean.

Really clean.

Frankie was picking you up for a ‘mystery date’, which meant – naturally – you had spent the entire day scrubbing every surface in your apartment until it looked like you semi-had your life together. Did you inhale more bleach than what is probably considered healthy? Most definitely. Do you regret it? No. Will your apartment ever be this clean again? Also probably a no.

Checking the time, you’re startled to see how long you had spent fluffing fucking pillows and chant curses as you run to your room, kicking the clothes you rip off under your bed to deal with later and quickly pulling on the outfit it had definitely not taken you two hours to decide on. Your eyes dart to the alarm clock next to your bed when a knock on the door echoes throughout your small home.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he’s on time –

God, why can’t he just show up half an hour late like the others? You immediately regret giving him the code to your building… that could’ve bought you an extra few minutes.

Stupid perfect face with his stupid perfect punctuality –

You open the door with a grin, hoping your forehead doesn’t look as sweaty as it feels, face softening when you find Frankie standing on the other side with a little potted houseplant cradled in his palms. He sees your eyes fall to it curiously and holds it out to you, your fingers brushing his when you carefully take it from his hands.

“You said flowers make you sad when they die, so…” he shrugs lightly, a gentle smile curling his lips.

Oh.

Emotion claws at your throat as your fingers trace the patterned leaves softly. Not only had he paid attention and actually listened to you during your many conversations, he had gone out of his way to find you a gift you could nurture, one that wouldn’t inevitably end up in the trash after a week or two of blossoming.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, clearing your throat quietly before glancing up at him, shy and overwhelmed by the wave of adoration that inundates you.

“Thank you, Frankie. I love it.”

And he knows you really do. He can hear it in your voice, sees the gratitude shining in your eyes. He follows you as you turn back into your apartment, eyes following you fondly as you walk around, eyeing potential places to situate your new addition.

“I think he looks good there.” You say, turning to confirm his approval over your shoulder after you situate it in the middle of your small dining table. He smiles, nodding his support and watching you turn back to look at the plant, taking his own little minute to admire you and the way you look bathed in the bright afternoon sun shining through your windows.

Fuck. He was captivated, completely infatuated by someone he had only known, what – three weeks? He should be nervous, should be alarmed that such strong feelings had developed so quickly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than joy – hope. Maybe this could be it, you and him. Endgame.

Fuck. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

His arms open automatically when you saunter up to him, enveloping you into a warm embrace while you press an appreciative kiss to his cheek.

“So, this mystery date,” you say, pulling back to gaze up at him while your hands wrap loosely around his neck, “will I need a jacket?”

“Yes,” he nods, grinning when your brows pinch in contemplation. “You’ll never guess so don’t hurt you head trying.” Lips press against your forehead and you press back into the soft touch, heart jumping at the tender gesture.

“Minigolf?” You question, looking up at the colourful entrance.

“Is that okay? If not, we can go somewhere else –”

He’s nervous – you can hear it in his voice.

Easing his anxiety, you shake your head and grin, “It’s perfect.”

You watch him relax, a pleased smile curling his lips, and then your hand is in his as he leads you through the gate and to the reception area to pay. The both of you meander outside once collecting your clubs and balls, and you feel childishly giddy at all the bright colours and fun obstacles set throughout, bouncing slightly in excitement as you walk to the first hole.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asks around a grin, head tilting as he watches you set up and take your position.

“This isn’t my first time,” you hum, shifting on your feet and lining up your shot. Swinging the golf club gently, you watch the neon orange ball bounce along the walls and finish up teeteringly on the edge of the cup before falling in with a satisfying clunk.

“Oh, by the way,” you spin, smirking, “I kick ass at minigolf.”

“Good,” he returns your smirk, gently nudging you out the way, “I don’t have to take it easy on you, then.”

What had started out as fun, quickly becomes competitive, and with competition comes foul play. Frankie had pinched your sides when you went to hit your ball, your body jolting with a yelp of surprise as he exploited your ticklish spots. In return, you knocked his golf club when he swung, and giggled wildly when he immediately turned on you, wrapping you in a tight hold and raining scratchy kisses along your throat in punishment.

The afternoon melts into evening with mix of steady conversation, laughter and hidden kisses behind obstacles – Frankie stealing the breath right from your lungs when he crowds you against the side of the colourfully decorated windmill and claims your mouth, the crowds of other couples and families wandering around the course oblivious to the two of you hidden in the shadows.

If he was trying to work you up, it was working. He had to know what he was doing to you, had to know how all-consuming his presence was when he swept you up into kiss after kiss. You were so wrapped up in the touches he would caress you with, so focused on the feel of his moustache as it tickled the skin above your lip, that you were completely unaware you were losing… until you peaked at the card Frankie kept sticking out of his back pocket (totally not because you were checking out his ass) and the wave of vicious competitiveness shadows the overwhelming desire to jump him right in the middle of the course on the artificial turf.

Payback.

The next course, you took your short as normal, squirming as you feel Frankie come to stand right behind you. Focus –

Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe –

Goosebumps rise along your arms in waves, the skin on the back of your neck prickling as he ghosts his curved nose down the column of your throat, your head tilting ever so slightly to allow him more access.

Fuck. No, breathe –

You swing the club, satisfaction rolling through you when the ball ends up in the cup perfectly in one shot. He’s slightly shocked, incredibly impressed, and presses a soft kiss of praise just below your ear. You watch as he takes your place, dropping his ball on the ground and readying his posture.

God, you need to stop looking at him like that.

The golf club feels loose in his grip, palms clammy from the fiery gaze locked onto the back of his neck as he hunches over for his turn. He feels a presence behind him but doesn’t pay any mind to it, and instead pays all of his attention to lining up the ball, mentally calculating what sort of angle he’d need to get it through the tunnel and around the winding corners to the cup a short dip below.

The cool puff of air suddenly blowing past and tickling his ear makes him fumble, the ball missing the tunnel and bouncing off of the sides and rolling back to his feet. He sighs, eyeing you over his shoulder with a playful frown as you blink innocently back at him.

He lines up again, tensing when warm hands work their way under his jacket, resting softly on his hips. He could feel the heat of your palms through his t-shirt and clears his throat, shifting on his feet and trying to focus back on the ball. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, teeth nipping lightly at his skin when he swings the golf club softly. Another miss. Frankie watches the ball return again, stopping at his feet with a light knock to his shoe.

“Yeah, that’s right, Morales – I’m onto you.” Your soft voice rings in his ear and he grins, knocking the ball into position with his club. “You may play dirty… but I do, too – try again.”

The words settle hotly in his stomach.

“You think you can win?”

“I know I can.” You all but purr into his ear.

He blocks you out then, focusing everything he has on getting that stupid fucking pink ball through the tunnel. He’s got it this time. This time –

Fingers dive under his shirt and his stomach jumps as they trace along his hot skin, slowly following along the waistband of his jeans teasingly. Fire shoots through his veins, muscles clenching under the feather light touches, your nails softly dragging along his skin.

Fucking Christ –

“Are you just going to stand here all day, Francisco?” You question slyly, voice soft and mocking. At your teasing, both verbal and physical, he hits the ball a little harder than intended and it bounces off the turf entirely and into the bushes lining the course.

You’re smug as you watch it disappear into the shrubs, “I’d say that’s forfeit.”

You go to step away when he starts to turn, but a hand grabs your wrist and keeps you flush against him, your insides somersaulting as his dark eyes burn through you.

“You’re trouble.” He accuses gruffly, heart still hammering in his chest while his skin burns from the ghost of your touches.

“You love it.”

He does.

Fuck, he does. Too much.

“Come on, loser,” you murmur, lips leaving a whisper of a kiss against his. “I’m hungry.” And with that, you turn, winking cheekily at him from over your shoulder, and he watches you walk away with a dumbfounded expression before he follows along behind you, jeans feeling a little tighter than what they did before.

The tension is stifling in the truck on the drive home. You feel your heart beating in your ears, the anticipation bubbling in your chest growing with every mile Frankie travels closer to your apartment. You were aching. Physically in fucking pain, and rubbing your thighs together was doing nothing to soothe the insistent throbbing from your core.

All that playful teasing, the touches and the rough kisses during the day, had caught up, and it was destroying you.

Frankie had briefly mentioned Mena staying with his parents for the night, and it had kickstarted your thoughts into overdrive. Was that a hint? Was he giving you a green light to potentially take this further? Was he saying he would be open to staying over? Was he asking to?

You were worried you were thinking on it too much, maybe getting the wrong idea and he was just expressing how nice it would be to have a night all to himself, but then his hand landed on your thigh and squeezed, and any inklings of doubt all but vanished.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, trying to focus on the road and not the way you keep shifting in your seat. He feels every time you squeeze your thighs together, feels the muscles move under his hand, and he physically has to stop himself from making a noise every time you do. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?

Your building comes into view and then he’s pulling up outside, removing his hand from your thigh and throwing the truck into park, letting it idle while you study the structure and get your thoughts together. Swallowing the sudden spike of nerves that settle in your stomach, you look to Frankie and find him already watching you quietly.

For a moment, you say nothing, and he doesn’t bother filling the silence. He lets you have all the time you need while you decide on your next move. Not that you need much time – you know exactly what you want.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask quietly, watching his eyes darken as they flicker to your building before returning to you. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows, and then he’s nodding, turning the keys in the ignition and the truck cuts out beneath you.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @livilottie @hailmaryyramliah @kesskirata @blueeyesatnight @a-perfct-stranger

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller

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sweetsubharry · 3 years

Note

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!! 💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

#ask lots #Lottie fic rec #fic rec #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fic rec #larry fanfic rec #fanfiction #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #bottom harry #top louis #sub harry #dom louis #footballer louis au

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Merzost’

Summary: Merzost’. Abomination. Monster.

a/n: This is mostly a character building piece for reader in my False Face Au with Good Dad! Bruce and Good Big Brother! Dick. This piece is slightly depressing but here it is. I would very much like to thank @knightfall05x for proof reading, putting up with my nonsense and convincing me to post this. Please ignore the blatant use of google translate.

TW: Attempted solicitation of a minor, trauma, and gore.

masterlist

Merzost’.

Abomination.

That is what the old woman called you.

It wasn’t your unusual gait or your unnaturally fluorescent eyes or even the fact that you could feel the press and pull of minds just as easily as you felt the heat radiate off another human.

No, you could see it in her clouded eyes and the way she shivered in your presence. She was old. She was an old woman in Gotham. She knew what death smelled like and oh, how it rolled off of you like a thick miasma. Dripping thick and suffocating.

No, no, it was none of those blemishes. It was something more… fundamental, unshakeable. Something you could not slough off as it nestled and stewed under your skin.

Even now, you can still feel the heft and weight of the old woman’s terror as she gazed at you.

You tried to smother the smile that ripples through your features.

As it carved itself on your lips, a cold sort of fear engulfed you.

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Your mind spent far too much of your time in someone else’s skin that crawling back to your own felt wrong. Your mind and body roiled against each other. Blistering. Scraping. Scorching. Peeling away from each other as they are forcefully melded back together into an awkward human-like shape.

It was an odd feeling, a feeling of permanence and solidness that felt completely foreign to you.

But this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want their eyes. Not raking over your still roiling flesh. Not carving, inspecting, appraising. Pausing too long at your leg, smiling knowing it made you weak. Your stomach rebelled, twisting. You felt sick. You hated these moments. You hated when you and whatever this nervous scared thing this was blended together.

“You’ll be so pretty when you grow up,” the man whispered to you. The excitement in his eyes made your skin itch. You swore there were boils forming on your skin. This was the only time your mind and body coalesced when your skin tore itself away from uninvited touch.

The man grasped your face with large calloused hands, squishing the loose tufts of your hair to your skin- prickling. It made the itch on your skin worsen, the unsettling boil in your gut more pronounced. Men like him, when they looked at you, soaking up the sight of you with hungry eyes, they saw your mother-soft, shining undine. Less of the knife-toothed ruskla you knew she was.

Or maybe they did know.

Maybe this is why they-

“You’ll be so so pretty, baby,”

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Your mother held you tight. The smell of lilac in her hair was almost salient enough to overcome the pungent odor of copper in the air.

“Shhhhhhh. Shhhhh, It’s ok now-” She whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your brow. “Mama’s got you. It’s ok.”

Her words rang hollow and stark in contrast to the death rattle echoing from the man on the tiled floor of your kitchen. His intact eye still staring at you as your mother smoothed your hair with her blood-covered hand.

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From the way your skin itched, you could tell Jeffrey Woodfield was a monster. Not the fun -movie kind with cheap latex masks so fake it made the pink flamingos in Florida look like the genuine article. Now that you thought about it, you really would rather be in Florida right now. The weather would be warm, your joints would ache a lot less, Disney Land probably didn’t get half as many clown attacks, and there would be sooooo many old people to scam.

“Baby,” he whispered huskily into your ear, sliding his filthy hands up your waist and keeping you planted firmly against the brick wall. You could practically feel the hives begin to pucker at your hips. Your breaths were shallow and nervous as he presses your small body into the wall. You asked him to leave you alone. You asked him to give you space. You thought about screaming or asking for help or anything but the way your lungs shrink into your chest made it hard to so much as a squeak.

This wasn’t happening.

You were 13.

This wasn’t happening.

Behind Jeffrey, you saw your mother, gore ladden and goddamn beautiful. She smiled, lips painted red and slick with fresh blood. Man or pig’s, it did not matter. To her there was no difference. Man or pig, they both squeal.

You could feel everything in you unfurl and relax. Mother was here. No, no. She wasn’t. Logically, you knew she was somewhere else. Where that somewhere was you hoped it was at least 6 feet under the dirt. For everyone’s sake.

But with your mother there you knew what to do. Muscle memory whirred to life and suffused throughout your body. Fluttering your long lashes and running your small hands up his chest, you felt him bend toward your touch, leaning low enough for you to cup his face in your hands.

You measured the odds.

His neck was too thick to snap. You bit back a snarl of frustration.

You slid yourself along the brick wall, inching both of you towards the dumpster.

“Acting shy now?” he breathed against your skin sounding like a panting bulldog. You could feel the hives pucker there too. You struggled to keep your face carefully sculpted, not letting any of the fear and disgust slip out.

He led the way, pulling you off the wall keeping a death grip on your wrist. A manic smile, too wide, too full of teeth stretches across your lips when he grabs your non-dominant hand. Using your good foot, you scooped up a brick and snatched it with your free hand. You tugged at your wrist nearly wrenching yourself free. He kept a steady grip on you. It didn’t matter. He turned to you snarling, impatient. You slammed the brick into his face.

Went

Down

With a satisfying thud, he was on the ground. The joints in your leg and hip twinged, screaming for you to run but the feeling of bone cracking beneath the force of your blow thrummed pleasantly through the twitching muscles of your hands. It felt fresh and satisfying.

“Solnechnyy svet, we do not leave things half done,”

You stalked towards the groaning heap of flesh, grabbing the discarded brick. You weren’t weak by any means. But your mother had taught you well.

All you needed to do now was finish what you started.

Straddling his chest, fingers laced together around the brick,

You slammed the brick down. Another satisfying crunch echoes in the empty alley. Giddy laughter bubbles in your chest. A sort of manic excitement took over your body.

You felt alive. You feel the rush even as shattered teeth carve deep gashes into the flesh of your knuckles. Your mind lashed out soaking up the pain that radiated off of him.

Distantly, you can hear him beg. He’s pleading for his life. He’s begging you to stop.

You should stop.

For him?

Did he when you asked?

They only stop when they’re like this. Twitching and bleeding.

“Merzost’,” came the old woman’s frail voice cutting through the vicious thoughts in your mind.

The high vanished. It left you cold. Cold and solid.

The puckering of your skin returned.

You looked at your shaking hands. Blood dripping, still trembling from a mix of nervousness and exhilaration.

The air thinned.

Your mother’s painted lips curled into a sweet smile. Her eyes softened as she reached for you. You could almost feel her carding her hand through your hair, gently running the tips of her fingers over your scalp. Her hands slid down to cup your face. Your unnatural eyes meet.

“Just like mama,”

Your senses failed you.

The next few minutes were a slapdash combination of colors and sounds.

The wash out grey of Gotham tainted with red.

The echo of shoes against pavement.

Your breath came out in puffs.

You felt sick.

Everything ached.

Why were you outside?

You had piano lessons.

No, that was last week.

No, it was today.

No, it was-

The fresh, deep gashes running up the length of your hand throbbed angrily, still bleeding. You could probably ask Alfie to-

Fuck.

Alfie was going to kill you. He was going to kill you and cut you up and-

Wait. Where were you?

You look around at the dilapidated buildings. Your breath picked up when you took it all in.

How did you end up in Crime Alley?

You bring your injured hands to your mouth

Fuck.

Breathe.

You shoved your hands into your pockets, violently rummaging through the seemingly endless expanse of space provided by the jeans you’d stolen from Dick’s wardrobe.

Why were guy pockets so much bigger?

Wait, why were you even wearing these?

You shook your head as you finally fished out your phone.

Dried blood still covered your hands.

Your stomach fell.

Bruce wouldn’t take you back.

No.

Not when you’re just like your mother. Your hands move to your face feeling the remnants of the manic smile still pressed into your features. Your stomach cartwheels.

You’re just another one of Gotham’s monsters.

Bruce might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, and, sure, the guy has a bleeding heart-

The phone’s shrill ring drags her mind kicking and screaming back to the present.

Should you answer?

Should you leave it?

Whatever you’re gonna do you really shouldn’t do it in the middle of the street, looking dazed and confused and way out of yourself. Quickly ducking into an alleyway and slipping behind a dumpster, you curled into herself before pulling out your phone.

“Where are you?!” Dick practically shouted over the phone.

Oh fantastic, it’s boy blunder big brother wanna be extraordinaire.

. From the way he sounds, he’s probably grappling or running roof to roof.

“Parker Row, I think,” You slapped your hand against your forehead. Why did you tell him?

“Parker-”

“Hold on, lemme check-” You peeked your head out just enough to see the mouth of the alleyway which didn’t show much. At least, not in any remotely distinguishable way.

Wait. Why were you even giving him your location? He’s just gonna throw you in Arkham. You swallowed thinking of all the minds you didn’t want anywhere near yours. Your pulse faltered. The thought of your mind melding with any of the rogues made you absolutely wanna crawl out of your skin. You wanted to leave it behind. You absolutely just wanted to make a break for it.

To be fair, considering what you just did, you probably belonged in a cell there. Maybe not next to any of the rogues but if you had to pick one, Poison Ivy. Definitely.

“(y/n), I’m serious, where are you? Bruce and Alfred are worried sick,”

You bit your lip. Worrying them was the last thing you wanted to do but there was also the fact that you just nearly murdered a man and possibly murdered him since you didn’t call for an ambulance.

You tried to dredge up any sort of guilt for your actions but you really couldn’t find any. You really couldn’t manage much. You didn’t feel bad for putting him down. He was a fucking asshole and he was gonna do that to someone else. You weren’t about to apologize for rearranging a creeper's face. But you were sorry about the brutality of it. You hated how cathartic each blow felt. How righteous the violence felt.

The image of red lips flashed across your mind. Another wave of nausea rolled over you.

You let out a breath. You were surprised at how dry it sounded. Considering how thick your throat felt, you expected a sob to come out. It sounded like a huff. It even sounded oddly petulant to you. It probably sounded like that to Dick too since he let out an exasperated huff of his own. You were a little glad for it.

“I’ll try to look for something,”

“No. Stay put. If you’re in the Alley-”

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s not safe for me to wander around alone in the Alley. You and B don’t have to keep telling me,”

“Considering where you are…."

This wouldn’t really be much of an issue if your dumbass legs didn’t take you there for God knows what reason.

“Lecture me later. Yanno when I’m in the safety of an overly plush couch where I can drape over dramatically as you each deliver your 500-word monologue about my dumbassery and I pretend to listen,”

“Please tell me you’ve actually done that to Alfred,”

“Do I sound brain dead to you?”

“Do you want an answer to that?”

“Fuck you,”

“Love you too, baby sis~”

Not for long.

You really loved your big brother. It was hard not to. He was too damned caring and sincere not to.

The knots in your stomach tightened at the idea of Dick not being your big brother anymore. You wanted to cry. But he was already stressed as it was and having you crying into his ear would have exacerbated that.

Maybe they’ll at least feed Anatolii once they kick you out. Or maybe Arkham will let you keep him.

“How did you manage to take out your tracker?”

“What tracker?”

“Wait, has B somehow not gotten into your stuff yet?”

“No and I stole some of your old clothes”

“What? Why?”

That is a good question that someone should have asked you around 3 hours ago.

“What tracker?” You repeated trying to redirect the question to something more concerning.

“You know how B is paranoid,”

“Ah,”

“Yeah,”

You smiled at the easy understanding.

“I think I see you,”

You waved your hands over your head as his silhouette dropped down from the fire escape. You rushed over to hug him, practically tackling him in the process. Looking down at you clearly very surprised by your sudden affection, Dick doesn’t question it and simply holds you. You bit your lip and blinked rapidly feeling the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re injured,”

“You’re in tights. What’s your point?”

“YOU HAVE GASHES ON YOUR HANDS”

“And you should really consider getting your name changed to Captain Obvious,”

“Y/n…..”

You hugged him tighter trying to shrink. It was a manipulative tactic but you knew it would work. Your skin started to dot with angry hives where your body made contact with his. You could already feel your face getting mottled with red bumps.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” The bumps spread to your neck. You could tell Dick could see them when his breath hitched and his grip on you loosened.

Both of you knew that the hives were nothing more than a psychosomatic reaction but Dick really couldn’t help but worry. You greatly appreciated his concern. You really did but letting go meant looking him in the eyes. Looking him in the eyes meant talking. Talking meant telling the truth. You just couldn't stand the idea of it, so you let your skin blister.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”Dick asked, giving your hair three quick pats before smoothing it over in a comforting gesture. It nearly made you burst into tears. Your control over that was wearing thin. You shook your head not trusting your voice not to come out frail. “C’mon you can tell your big bro,” He coaxed, nervousness edging into his voice. You shook your head again.

Dick sighed.

“Can I at least get you to Doc. Leslie’s clinic?”

You weighed your options.

And weighed them again.

And again.

Calculating the odds but you were too tired.

Too rung out.

Whatever is going to happen will happen. You nodded into his shoulder. Dick’s shoulders loosened. His hands moved up to squeeze your shoulders but pulled away quickly like you’d burned him.

“Can you walk?” He asked gently. You hummed in answer. He let out a breath and shook his head. Your shoulders eased at that and you relinquished your grip.

You two began the slow walk towards the clinic, hand in hand. The silence pooled uncomfortably. You felt the anxiety whirring in Dick’s body even as you walked. Your mind reached out to him. You wanted to reassure him that you were ok but you were a terrible liar when it came to your family. You knew the world of horrendous possibilities that was swirling in Dick’s head. He dealt with the worst the world has to offer on a nightly basis. His guilt and worry licked at your consciousness like a fire spreading too quickly. Your skin buzzed with irritation. Still, you tapped your index and middle finger against the back of his hand. It took you far too long to realize that that gesture meant nothing to Dick. Your eyes widened, mind racing through all the possible ways to do damage control. But when Dick simply reciprocated the gesture, you finally started crying.

Doc. Leslie giving you a mouthful was expected. What you didn’t count on was her swatting you over the head when you refused to tell her what happened.

“It was a Racoon, I swear,” You said, earning you a swat over your head. Dick was snickering at the edge of your periphery. You stuck your tongue out at him which he returned in kind. Doc. Leslie looked between the two of you and ran her hand over her face. Her blood pressure was going through the roof. Doc. Leslie leveled you a stern look one only Alfred could match. You shrank and let her inspect the rest of your skin. It was still mottled from the hug but Doc. Leslie was familiar enough with your condition to distinguish it from any other abnormalities.

Your mother might not have trusted hospitals but even she could see that Doc. Leslie was trustworthy. Or at least, competent enough.

“I’m gonna call, B-”

“NO-” You screamed shooting up from the exam table, your eyes blown wide and wild with fear. “Please don’t call, Da- don’t call, B-” Dick looked at you, brow furrowed, his hand reaching out for you. You didn’t shrink away. Instead, for once, your mind pressed back. His face twisted in mild discomfort. “You can’t, Dick. Please. You- please.” You sounded pathetic even to your own ears. Your mind pressed again. This time Dick winced in pain. You flinched back, your mind retreating.

“Dick- I-” You had hurt him. You had hurt him.

You have become something intolerable. You have become what you have always been.

Merzost’.

Abomination.

Monster.

You felt all the adrenaline from the past few hours leave you all at once. The room felt like it was swimming and shifting. You tried to mouth an apology but your tongue simply flailed uselessly failing you in such a crucial moment.

The world faded and you heard yourself collapse onto the floor rather than feeling it.

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The (h/c) haired woman towered over you. You were weeping and begging as you bleed on to the kitchen. You sniveled letting snot, drool, tears, and blood pool at the side of your face. At that moment, you were what the woman thought you were, a pathetic animal. Two sets of incandescent eyes bear down on you-one pitiless and one too young to truly comprehend what's happening.

You look into your own uncomprehending eyes as you bled out on the floor.

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

You woke up wild.

Your arms flung over your face.

Your flesh was raw.

Your breath was short.

The world around you was muted against the memory.

Piece by piece the world fell back into place.

There was a monitor beeping beside you. The air smelled of antiseptic, not copper nor lilac. Your breaths slowed.

Piece by piece you retrieved yourself from the nightmare.

You shifted and settled into bed, remembering clearly now where you were. You were at Doc. Leslie’s. You weren’t in the apartment on Main or the house on Orange or Wayne Manor. You were in the clinic. You were safe.

“It’s ok, y/n. You’re safe now, sweetheart. It’s ok.” You felt a large hand smoothing over your sweat-soaked hair, stroking your head gently. Your muscles uncoiled and you let yourself melt into the mattress. Your skin did not prickle.

In the complete darkness of the room, your mind searched for him. Bruce looms over you, towering but unimposing as he usually did. His mind radiated of worry, of warmth, of kindness. You were going to be sick.

“Papa?” You rasped. The word must have sounded like a shattering plate to Bruce because he froze. A cocktail of emotions seemed to swirl in his mind. You desperately wanted to take the word back but you wanted to call him that just once before he carted you off wherever it was you belonged. You did not wait for his mind to pick whichever unpleasant emotions it decided on. You were resigned to whatever fate was in store for you but you weren’t one to sit idly by and wait for it.

“Pa- B- I- I-” You tightened your fists around the threadbare blanket in frustration. Your mind was well aware of what it had to lose by saying this. It was once again the loss of love and you honestly didn’t know if you could take that but knowledge, the waiting for the inevitable, felt far more agonizing at the moment. “B, I- Woodfield.” At that, Bruce’s brow furrowed visibly through the cowl. His mind finally settled on confusion. The loss of discordance put you at ease.

“Woodfield,” He repeated quietly. The gears turning in his head. His expression grew grimmer by the second. You could feel your life falling apart. It was no surprise that Bruce had already heard of what had happened to him. “Why would you go after him alone? Are you ok?”

Alone?

You blinked at Bruce. You furrowed your brow.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” You were certain but the answer came out wobbly and unsure. Bruce gave you a stern look, but your mind was far too preoccupied to actually react to it.

What did he mean by alone?

You’ve been talking cases with Bruce for the last week, pestering him about letting you help out by sorting through documents. Being the fresh eyes for the case.

Then you stumbled on Woodfield’s file. Then? Then what?

You were in an alley. Your stomach revolted to prevent any more memories.

Your arms shot up grabbing Bruce’s and pulling yourself up with what little strength you had. “Bruce, I ki-”

“He’s in the hospital-” You stared at Bruce searching his face for something. Whatever it was you couldn’t find it. You expected to feel some kind of relief. After all, you didn’t kill a man. You still maimed him. Your mind supplied unhelpfully.

“Are you ok?” Bruce repeated.

“No,” You answered honestly. You felt numb. With a war of emotions clamoring in your chest, you simply stared at a wall. You felt the bed dip. Bruce was now sitting beside you. You pulled your knees to your chest and bury your face into your arms. You couldn’t stand to look at him. You just- Your mind reached out. The shape and texture of his thoughts weren’t jagged. They were heavy. Heavy but not crushing. The bumps and little prickles of concern confused you.

“B- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I tried to stop but- but he- I-”

Bruce pulled his cape off and wrapped it around you, the solid weight of it gathering you into something solid. It was a silent comforting gesture. From one affection allergic person to another. You gripped the cape, lip wobbling. You turned to Bruce expecting to see his eyes cold and calculating, the kind of eyes that sussed out your weaknesses. But when you actually looked at them, Bruce’s eyes only betrayed concern. You felt like you’ve been sucker-punched.

Bruce placed a large hand on your head. Bruce looked at you as you were, a scared kid. Not a thing or an abomination or a monster. You were just a kid. And with that, you conceded. You scooted closer. Hesitantly, resting your head on his arm. Bruce made no attempt to pull you into a hug and you thanked whatever was up there for that.

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a/n: To anyone in my tag list who just wanted fluff, I am so fucking sorry. To anyone who had to read this in general, I apologize but I just wanted to write this. Thank you for reading.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance (Thanks for the push), @cloudie-skay

#gore #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batfamily x reader #these are all platonic #angst #nightmares #ptsd #minor in danger #tumblr do not kill me #batsis

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riotwritesthings · 3 years

Text

Deep as the Ocean

WinterIron, E | AO3

Me? Writing more monsterfucking for Halloween? More likely than you think!

Title: Deep as the Ocean Collaborator(s): Riot @buckybarnesbingo Square Filled: Y5, Occupational Hazard @tonystarkbingo (card 4052) Square Filled: K3, WTF Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: E Major Tags/Warnings: established relationship, hand wavey comic book magic, banter, humor, octo!Bucky, consentacles, Confirmed monsterfucker Tony Stark Summary: Another day, another magical mishap. At least most of the team gets hit this time, and Tony is really trying to focus on that rather than one person in particular. It’s not his fault! He grew up with the internet! Word Count: 6.6k

~~~

It starts with a magical, and very angry, environmentalist.

Because of course it does, that’s just the way their lives go.

And look, Tony gets it, he also agrees that the oceans are important and should be protected, he’s completely on board with that. What he can’t get behind is turning random beach vacationers into horrible fish-monsters in an effort to get the point across.

The fight itself goes pretty well. No one gets mauled by horrible enslaved half-human monsters, because it turns out all it took was one look at the Hulk and all the fishpeople apparently deemed the giant green man their new leader or something. They’ve mostly just been following him in large circles up and down the beach, leaving the rest of the team free to focus on the magic man.

Tony actually feels a little bad about how easy things get once the villain of the week loses his army to a laughing Hulk, so naturally it’s right at the end when everything goes sideways.

Because it turns out their angry environmentalist is the ‘go out with a bang’ type, and Tony is just glad he’s up in the safety of the air when the magical smoke cloud engulfs most of the team. Based on the look of smug-yet-guilty relief on Sam’s face when Tony glances over, he’s having the same thought.

“I don’t think that went the way our evil wizard was intending,” Tony says as he and Sam come in for a landing near the rest of the team, who are still looking mostly human and blinking at each other in confusion.

“Is everyone okay?” Sam asks, then wrinkles his nose as he glances over at Steve and adds “You know, relatively speaking?”

“Man, what the fuck,” Clint whines, hands clapped over either side of his neck, “This is why I like to fight from a distance. This kind of shit is way funnier when it’s only happening to other people.”

“I’m doing just peachy,” Natasha says dryly, looking remarkably calm considering she currently has a fish tail instead of legs.

“You make a wonderful mermaid,” Tony tells her brightly, “Now someone please scoop up the magic bastard before he scuttles away.”

“I feel weird about arresting a crab, even if he was just a human wizard trying to kill us all,” Sam says, but manages to scoop up the averaged-sized, if neon blue, crab without getting himself pinched and Steve flashes him a thumbs up.

Well, Steve flashes a thumbs up at the general area three feet to the left of Sam, but they all know what he’s going for. Considering that Steve’s eyes are currently big and glassy and bulging out of his skull, they should probably just be impressed he’s pointed anywhere near Sam.

“Hey, hey Tony,” Bucky says and Tony can hear his smirk even though he’s refusing to look over.

Tony had gotten a glimpse of Bucky’s fish monster transformation when he first landed and he just... cannot deal with that right now.

“Tony,” Bucky says again, and then something slaps wetly against the leg of Tony’s armor and he’s looking down before he can stop himself.

There’s a tentacle on his shin, slowly wrapping it’s way around his leg, shimmering deep red and black in the bright sunlight.

Tony maybe squeaks embarrassingly before jerking his eyes up again, which leads to him accidentally meeting Bucky’s gaze, and the smug, heated smirk on Bucky’s face has Tony’s breath catching in his throat.

Then Bucky has the gall to actually wave at him with the thin, tapered tip of one of his eight tentacles, while the one still wrapped around Tony’s leg tap-tap-taps against his armor and Tony is lucky he stays standing as his stomach gives a hot, vicious twist.

“Goddamnit Bucky, I was joking!” Tony says, throwing his hands in the air and quickly looking away again. He really shouldn’t have opened the faceplate when he landed, because he’s sure that his flushed face must be giving him away.

“Do I want to know? I don’t think I want to know.” Clint says, most of his attention on poking at his newly acquired gills, and then slapping at Sam when he tries to poke the other side of Clint’s neck.

“You very much don’t,” Tony says, and can’t help taking just a little bit of glee in Clint’s expression.

He then very carefully keeps his gaze fixed on Clint, doing his best to ignore the fact that out of the corner of his eye he can absolutely see Bucky slowly wobbling his way closer, unsteady on his eight writhing tentacles.

“My eyes hurt,” Steve says conversationally, “I don’t think I have eyelids.”

“You don’t look like you have eyelids,” Sam says, and Tony quickly drags his gaze over to Steve because yes, Steve and his hilarious fish eyes, that’s a safe distraction.

It’s almost enough to fight down the heat trying to build in Tony’s gut, the way his blood is rushing undeniably and inescapably south.

Tony wants to point out that the look is not working for Steve, but then another dark, nimble limb tap tap taps against his shoulder and before he can stop himself he’s glancing over at Bucky again.

Bucky smiles at him brightly, taps the very tip of the tentacle against Tony’s jaw, and Tony’s cock throbs almost painfully, blood rushing south so quickly that it leaves him a little lightheaded.

“Why can’t you just be a normal floppy mermaid like Nat?!” Tony demands in a voice that cracks uncomfortably, because seriously, he can’t even look at Bucky for too long.

The way Bucky crosses his thick arms and smirks wider is not helping.

“I am not floppy,” Natasha says, narrowing her eyes and it kind of looks like she’s considering how best to smack him with her tail.

Tony shuffles a couple steps away, honestly grateful for the distraction. And the excuse to escape Bucky’s clutches.

“If you slap me, I’m not going to carry you to the wizard doctor,” he tells Natasha, “you’ll have to ride with fish eyes over there.”

“Hey!” Steve says with a pout, but he’s not facing any of them anymore.

The Hulk makes a questioning sound as he stomps past them again, the poor cursed fishpeople lumbering along happily behind him, and yeah they should probably do something about that too.

“Strange is going to be so pissed,” Tony says and he can’t quite hide his glee, even as Natasha shifts her weight onto her arms and swings her tail up to smack him in the chest.

~~~

Strange is in fact pissed when they come stomping and/or lurching into his ‘sanctum’ with their evil crab in tow, but Tony absolutely catches him laughing when Steve walks into a door frame and drops Natasha.

“You are getting sand... everywhere,” he says, like he’s physically pained, and he would no doubt kick them out if there was anywhere else to send them.

That’ll teach him to be the only trustworthy wizard in the city.

“Hey man, you’re not the one with sand in your shorts,” Clint says, because he can always be counted on to be classy.

“Do you have any idea how many nooks and crannies I have for sand to get into?” Tony asks, and then bends his arm to show the way half the beach falls out of the shifting, moving parts of the armor.

“Do you want to take off the armor at least?” Sam asks, already shrugging out of his wings and shaking himself off.

“I do not,” Tony says flatly, because if he takes off the suit everyone is absolutely going to know that Tony is so hard it would be painful even if he weren’t trapped in unforgiving metal.

It’s not his fault, okay?! He stumbled upon a website or two in his formative years and the idea just kind of... stuck. Way down deep in the back of his mind, because it was never supposed to matter.

Tentacles, what the fuck.

The point is, Tony is staying firmly and safely in the armor, where no one can judge him.

“Please don’t take the suit off,” Strange says with a pained expression and for a terrifying second Tony thinks that he knows. But no, Strange is just eyeing the sandy mess of his foyer as he adds “Just... hold still and keep all your sand to yourselves, please. I’m going to run a few tests.”

‘A few tests’ mostly means waving his hands at them, putting on a light show and muttering to himself.

Tony does his best to just focus on watching closely, hoping everyone will chalk it up to his usual mistrust of magic and not that he’s doing everything he can to avoid having to so much as glance at his boyfriend.

Chiming in to help Clint mock Steve is a pretty good distraction at least, and it’s even better when Sam gets distracted trying to poke at Clint’s gills again and gets himself pinched by the wizard crab.

The flaw, of course, is that eventually Strange gets to Bucky and suddenly Tony can’t focus on anything else.

He's not sure if it's because the environmentalist asshole wizard was running out of steam by that last blast of magic or what, but compared to the scaly abominations he'd originally been creating Bucky actually looks... good.

And sure, Tony is biased, he always thinks Bucky looks good, but even objectively the man is really rocking the half-octopus look.

Tony's eyes get stuck for a long minute on the cut of Bucky’s hips below his tacvest, the barest sliver of pale skin before it smoothly shifts to a deep black, shimmering slightly red in the stupid lighting of the sanctum. The color lightens near the tapered tips of the long limbs and yep, Tony is absolutely staring now and wow, is it hot and bothered in here or is that just him?

He is a little curious what happened to Bucky and Natasha’s pants, but that’s probably the type of question that’s best left unasked, because the answer is ‘magic’, and Tony hates that answer.

“How does this keep happening to you?” Strange asks as he continues waving his hands around Bucky in a presumably useful way.

“Risk of the job?” Bucky says with an easy shrug and the flare of tentacles sprouting from his hips don’t make his shoulders look extra wide, they don’t, except that oh god they absolutely do.

Just like it doesn’t make Tony’s stomach flip all over itself when Bucky looks up, catches him staring, and winks.

“I’m calling OSHA,” Sam grumbles, still pouting over the blister forming on his thumb from where he was crab-pinched.

“You didn’t even get magic whammied!” Clint protests, both hands clapped over his neck protectively because Steve has taken up trying to poke his gills too.

“And I’m not waiting until it happens to me!” Sam says, throwing his hands in the air.

“My eyes still hurt,” Steve says, and he’s definitely pouting about it now.

There are several half-shouted responses to that, including Tony’s suggestion that Steve go stick his head in the birdbath out front, Natasha saying something about fishbowls, and Clint’s gleeful suggestion of consensual swirlies.

“I’ll look into it,” Strange declares loudly, speaking over them all and pointedly not inviting them to stay while he does. “Call me if it wears off first this time, please,” he adds, shooting Clint a flat look.

“Yeah yeah—“

“Because last time, you just let me keep looking until I had to learn that you were no longer a chipmunk from TV.”

“In my defense,” Clint says, “I had chipmunk brain.”

“You still have chipmunk brain, Alvin,” Tony says.

“Excuse you, I’m totally a Theodore.”

“You’re an Alvin and we all know it,” Natasha says, patting Clint gently on the leg with the end of her tail and it really is amazing how quickly they all seem to have gotten used to their new fish parts.

Which leads to Tony almost thinking about the all-too graceful way Bucky has been moving slowly closer, all muscle and careful, stalking control.

But no, Tony shuts that down and doesn’t let himself think about it, not even a little bit. Not even when he feels one of those tentacles wrap around his shin again.

"Who was the smart chipmunk again?" Sam asks thoughtfully "I want to be that one. I'm the real brains of the operation."

"Does that make Steve Theodore?" Natasha wonders.

"Please, I'm Theodore," Tony says, "'Cause I'm cuddly and sweet. Steve is the mean human who's always yelling at us."

"Hey," Steve protests, glaring at a spot somewhere over Tony’s head.

“Get out,” Strange says, and that’s about all the warning they get.

~~~

Strange portals them back to the compound at least, which is nice of him, though Tony is pretty sure it’s just to keep them from leaving behind more sand on their way out. And he doesn’t even know about all the fish monsters the Hulk is undoubtedly going to start herding in soon.

It’s less nice that Strange dumps them out of the portal directly above the pool in the gym, and Tony barely kicks on the repulsors before he hits the water.

Which is fun, because it means he aggressively splashes everyone else, and also handy because he really doesn’t want to add ‘dry and de-sand the armor’ to his to-do list today.

As it is, all he really wants is to get to his room where he can hide his shame and furiously jerk off in peace.

It’s not so much to ask, really.

“Okay, well, I think you’re all good here,” Tony says as he thumps down onto the tile beside the pool, even though no one seems to be paying him a damn bit of attention though.

Sam is already pulling himself out of the water and stomping off, Steve seems happily distracted splashing water into his own eyes, and Natasha is laughing as she swims literal circles around a flailing Clint.

“I’m just gonna... go,” Tony says weakly, already backing towards the door, “Clean out my suit. Yep.”

With that he turns and bails, bails as quickly as his sand-encrusted metal joints will allow, and he’s in such a hurry to get to the workshop that he barely even registers that Bucky is following him.

It’s basically routine anyways, Bucky follows him back to the lab after a mission more often than not these days because he insists on looking Tony over himself.

Honestly, you hide a major injury or seven and suddenly no one trusts you.

It doesn’t even occur to Tony why this might be a problem until he’s stepping into the lab and halfway through saying ”Bet they’re never going to complain about the pool being salt water again, do—“ Then he squeaks, face heating within the safety of the helmet, and demands “Why aren’t you swimming with everyone else?!”

“I want to make sure you’re not injured,” Bucky says, but he has his ‘innocent and trustworthy’ face on, not his ‘I think Tony is hiding injuries again’ face, and Tony is instantly suspicious.

“I'm fine, and I think you know it,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes to hopefully hide the fact that his stomach is giving a dangerous little twist.

Damnit he never should have told that stupid joke about hoping Bucky sprouts tentacles next time, because now it is next time, and now Bucky knows, and there’s no way he’s going to let this go.

Tony is as flustered as he is excited.

“Then why haven’t you taken off the suit yet?” Bucky asks and his tone is still innocent, but the look in his eyes says he knows exactly why, and all Tony is doing is delaying the inevitable.

He’s also slowly tugging open the straps and catches of his tacvest, which kind of gives him and his dastardly intentions away. It’s also wildly unfair, because he knows what that sight does to Tony, and what was Tony even embarrassed about again?!

So he gives up with a heavy sigh that is entirely for show, lets the armor start to unfold around him and directs his pout at the far wall.

The cool air of the lab is a relief on his flushed skin, and no longer being trapped in the unforgiving metal of the armor is definitely a relief on his aching cock. Even if that relief is immediately followed by the long-ignored burn of arousal in his gut flaring to life, demanding attention and leaving him breathless.

“Don’t judge me, okay, I grew up with the internet,” Tony grumbles as he finishes stepping out of the suit, wiggling his bare toes against the cold ground and wishing he’d thought to pull on more clothes before he’d run off to jump in the armor this morning.

His threadbare pajama pants and shrunken sleep shirt are definitely not hiding how flustered he is, and he has the uncomfortable feeling that his thin pants are already tellingly wet where they’re stretched tight over the head of his cock.

He’s refusing to look down to confirm though, instead keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the far wall to hopefully preserve even a tiny shred of his dignity. Assuming he still has any, Tony honestly isn’t sure anymore, he’s having a hard time even thinking at this point and he’s pretty sure there is zero blood left in his brain.

Bucky doesn’t say anything at all though, and after a second Tony glances over at him only to find that Bucky has apparently moved and how, how is he so stealthy even with octopus legs?!

Before Tony can spin to look for him Bucky is plastered against his back, human arms wrapped around his middle and oh god long, nimble octopus arms wrapping around the rest of him, winding around his thighs and down his legs, one of them draped up over his shoulder with the thin tip sliding so lightly along the line of his throat.

“Oh- fuck—“ Tony gasps as his legs nearly collapse out from under him, his entire body flushing molten hot.

It’s only Bucky’s many, many limbs tightening around him that keeps him standing, stealing what little brain power Tony had left in the process.

“You’ve barely even been able t’ look at me,” Bucky says, lips dragging up the back of Tony’s neck and his voice as smug as anything, “So hot for this, ain’t ya?”

“I’m always hot for you,” Tony tries to argue, because he is, but his voice comes out breathless and he’s shaking in Bucky’s hold and his argument really doesn’t hold much weight.

“Yeah, but I think you’re extra hot for this,” Bucky says, low and teasing and knowing as he tightens his hold on Tony everywhere.

The very tip of one tentacle brushes over Tony's lower lip and his mouth falls open with a sharp gasp, tongue flicking out to chase it without thought. He groans at the feel of it, slick and just a little salty from being dumped in the pool and so smooth. Just like the ones shifting over his arms, sliding up the leg of his pants, and Tony lets out a shaking moan as the suckers drag teasingly over his skin.

“Yeah,” Bucky says smugly, easily sliding his palms up Tony's chest amid the mess of writhing limbs, “Knew you weren’t jokin’ about the tentacles.”

"That, that's n-not, ah—" Tony's weak protest breaks off in a ragged gasp at the scrape of Bucky's teeth over the back of his neck. He struggles weakly against Bucky's hold, mostly just to feel the way Bucky tightens around him and rumbles with soft laughter.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, low and teasing, and Tony gasps as one of the limbs wrapped around his middle slides under the waistband of his pants and straight into his boxers, swiping over the head of his aching cock. “‘Cause you’re already wet, sweetheart, leakin’ like this an’ I barely even touched you yet.”

“You are touching me,” Tony points out with a huff, but he’s much more concerned with trying to arch his hips forward into Bucky’s touch and then whining pitifully when he can’t move at all.

“Nah, sweet thing, I’ve just gotten started,” Bucky breathes out hot against the shell of his ear as another limb slides up Tony’s pant leg, wrapping around his calf.

It’s almost pathetic how easily he collapses when Bucky gives even the slightest push, but Tony is mostly just excited to give up the ruse of actually supporting himself on his shaking legs.

The only thing that keeps him from face planting straight into the ground is Bucky wrapped around him, lowering him gently until Tony can catch himself on his hands and knees with Bucky’s broad chest against his back, thick human arms bracketing him in and other, distinctly less-human arms winding all around him.

“O-oh, god,” Tony gasps out, shuddering hard as the tentacle down the front of sweats twines around his cock, rubbing and stroking and fuck that is so unfair. Tony’s brain is already melting out of his ears and Bucky just keeps touching him more, firm and strong and perfect.

More tentacles slide beneath the hem of his pants, looping against his skin and then tugging his sweats down over his hips even though they don’t fall far, not with the way his thighs are wrapped up several times over. They’re everywhere, suckers dragging against his inner thighs, sliding under his shirt and trailing teasingly light up his chest.

“Bucky, just- ah,” Tony breaks off with an embarrassing whimper when the grip around his cock tightens a little, tip of the tentacle dragging firmly over the head and smearing precum over his skin. Another one slides down the small of his back, pressing into his crack and then dragging up and down against the skin with slow, deliberate motions, until Tony is trying desperately to rock back into it and gasping out “Please.”

It’s so much, Bucky wrapped all around him, completely surrounding him, skin still slick with water as it slides against Tony’s own. The stroking along his cock is tight and smooth, the tentacles curling around his chest drag over his nipples with a firm pressure, and Tony tosses his head back with a loud cry.

He shakes and writhes in place, trying to arch his chest forward into the sensation, trying to rock his hips down into the grip of the tentacle wrapped tight around his cock and then back into the pressure of the one dragging over his hole.

“You looks so good like this, so overwhelmed, just fuckin’ lost in it,” Bucky says in a low growl, crowding in impossibly closer until Tony's wet shirt clings to the damp skin of Budays chest, rucking it up higher and leaving more skin exposed for wandering limbs to rub against.

The thin tip of one tentacle presses against Tony’s hole, curling and twisting against the ring of muscle. It pulls a ragged cry out of his chest that only gets louder as the limb wrapped around him twists in place and the line of suckers finally press into his skin, covering his nipples and down his stomach, up his throat, applying the lightest suction.

It’s just enough to have blood rushing hot beneath Tony’s skin, every inch of him tingling with it as bolts of heated pleasure burn down his spine, until the fire in his gut spreads through his whole body, burning him alive.

“You’re not even listenin’ to me, are ya sugar?” Bucky asks with a low chuckle, lips and teeth trailing along Tony's jaw while the suction over his nipples increases.

“Please,” Tony gasps out mindlessly, rocking his hips back into the too-light pressure, “please, I- ah!” Tony cuts off with a ragged sound as the tentacle curling against his hole just barely presses inside him, twisting and rubbing and lighting up all his nerves from the inside out.

It doesn't press any deeper though, just barely working inside him until Tony drops his head down again with a shaking wail, hips twitching in Bucky's hold.

“Please, please, Bucky-“ Tony whines out and he’s so wound up it almost hurts, his stomach pulled tight in burning knots and his cock aching as the limb wrapped around it continues to stroke him so slowly.

He’s barely aware of the broken pleas continuing to spill out of him, all he knows is that his entire body is molten with it and fuck it already feels like he’s right on the edge, like he could fall apart at any moment.

When the tentacle finally presses in deeper Tony’s breath catches in his chest entirely, jolting in place and Bucky is the only thing holding him up, the grip around his cock tightening the only thing stopping him from coming right then and there. And then it pressed deeper, slowly spreading him open, curling and twisting inside him until Tony is wailing out a ragged sound, still straining impossibly against Bucky’s grip on him in an effort to rock himself back into it.

“So greedy," Bucky groans, low and fond, dragging the tip of one tentacle over the head of Tony's cock, barest hint of suction along the base, "I’m already touchin’ you everywhere and you just want more, don’t ya?”

“More,” Tony repeats instantly, his entire body shaking, arms weak and chest heaving in Bucky’s hold, burning, “Please-“

The limb buried inside him withdraws slowly, twisting and seemingly rubbing up against his every nerve in the process, and Tony barely has time to whine about it before another one is pressing against his hole, thicker, throbbing as it sinks into him.

Tony’s ragged cry is cut short by another tentacle sliding between his lips, curling around his tongue and then curling around itself, filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide.

“You feel so good like this baby, I can feel you everywhere,” Bucky’s voice is low and rough as his lips drag up the line of Tony’s neck, “I can taste you.”

The thick tentacle twists inside him, spreading him wide, and Tony lets out a long, low moan that comes out muffled, mouth still stuffed so perfectly full and spit running freely down his chin.

Fuck he feels full everywhere, the tentacle pressing deeper inside him, rubbing against his prostate as the one in his mouth teases over his tongue, another thin tip dragging over his wet lips.

Tony whines pitifully, reduced to shaking in place as the tip of yet another tentacles slips in alongside the one that’s already buried deep inside him, tugging at his rim and drawing a weak groan out of him.

Bucky’s teeth press briefly against his throat, scrape over the shell of Tony’s ear, and he sounds a little breathless himself as he grows “Fuck I can feel the way you’re shakin’ for it, you ready babydoll?”

The suckers are still dragging over his skin, plucking at his nipples and the head of his cock until Tony is nearly sobbing. Then he forgets about breathing entirely as the tentacle finally starts actually thrusting into him, fucking him open wide and so deep, so thick, feeling like it’s still impossibly swelling inside him and Tony tosses his head back again, keening with it.

Tony’s head is spinning, pleasure spreading through his entire body with every deep press of the Bucky inside him, every shift and drag of the other tentacles against his skin sending bright bursts of pleasure down his spine. Until it feels like his building orgasm might just burn him alive when it finally breaks and still Tony can’t stop the desperate, muffled noises from spilling out of him, trying to beg for more.

“You wanna come baby?” Bucky asks in a low growl, speeding up his thrusts, taking Tony completely apart. He laughs roughly when Tony lets out a high whine, tentacle tightening its grip on Tony’s cock and stroking him harder.

The sound that bursts out of Tony is more of a pathetic whine than anything, bright bolts of pleasure shooting through him with every hard thrust, every deep press of the tentacle inside him and drag over his prostate. He’s close, he’s so close, and Tony keens again as his entire body tightens with it, clenching around the limb still fucking into him and his cock throbbing in the hold of the tentacle wrapped around it.

“C’mon doll, come for me,” Bucky demands, practically a snarl, and the tentacle stuffed into his mouth pulls away just in time to let Tony’s shouted cry echo loudly around the workshop.

Tony would swear he whites out completely, blinding pleasure burning through him so ferociously that for several long seconds all he can feel is the almost painful throb of his cock as he finally comes, the increasingly slick slide of Bucky’s tentacle still wrapped around it, still stroking him quickly.

Bucky is still wrapped around him everywhere, not lightening his grip at all, keeping Tony held firm and he can’t even thrash in place, can’t do anything but take it as Bucky fucks him right through the orgasm, completely breaks him apart.

Everything goes a little fuzzy, just an overwhelming onslaught of sensation as heat continues spiraling through Tony in an endless loop. He can feel Bucky’s rough groan rumbling against his arched back, the tightening of Bucky’s tentacles all around him and Bucky’s teeth diging into the curve of his shoulder. The tentacles inside him twist and press deeper before Bucky finally comes with a loud growl, tentacle swelling even further and then flooding Tony with cum.

Full, god he’s so full, it ends up spilling out of him even around the wide limb holding him open, thick and viscous as it runs down his thighs.

Tony pants brokenly, gasping for air as Bucky’s hold on him finally goes a little slack, just enough so that Tony can suck in giant lungfuls of air without letting him collapse face down into the ground. His inner muscles are still clenching sporadically around the tentacle buried inside him, and when it shifts Tony moans weakly at the feeling of more cum spilling out of him.

His shirt is rucked up around his chest and clinging to him with sweat and water from Bucky’s skin, cum running down his skin and soaking into his sweats where they’re still trapped around his thighs.

Tony’s brain comes back online slowly, entirely too slowly, mostly because it tries to fuzz out all over again every time Bucky drags in a deep, steadying breath and his chest presses into Tony’s back, so much skin on skin.

Eventually though Tony’s head clears enough for something to occur to him, and he lets out a drawn out groan of complaint.

“I really hope everyone is still in the pool,” Tony whines, letting his head hang low again as he realizes he’s going to have to somehow get to his room like this. And he’s still a little breathless.

He really doesn’t want the ‘stop mentally scarring your teammates’ speech from Steve again. Or worse, Bruce.

Bucky hums, sounding wildly unconcerned with their possible upcoming lecture, and his limbs continue twitching and shifting against Tony’s skin like he’s not even aware that he’s doing it.

“My room isn’t far,” Bucky finally says, voice low and rough and lazy.

“My bathtub is bigger,” Tony argues, because his bathtub is practically a jacuzzi and it seems like a great way to both get clean and keep his dumb octopus-boyfriend from drying out.

If that even is a thing they need to worry about, who knows. None of his formulative years of internet scrolling had prepared him for that question, and Tony is still too orgasm-stupid to remember a damn thing about real, non-magical sea life right now.

“Yeah, but my room is closer,” Bucky points out, lips dragging along the curve of Tony’s shoulder again.

Tony considers that, along with the fact that his legs are still shaking uselessly and the fact that Bucky is still the only thing holding him up.

“We can make it work,” Tony says decisively.

He has to lean on Bucky pretty heavily on the shuffling walk to Bucky’s room, pretending to swat at Bucky’s tentacles when they inevitably wind around him again. At least the entire thing is free from pesky teammate witnesses.

Bucky’s bathtub is nowhere near as big at Tony’s, but it is still a pretty decent size. Because it’s not like Tony was going to cheap out on any of the rooms in the compound, after all.

It’s a bit of a squeeze, getting both of them and all of Bucky’s extra limbs into the water, but they make it work.

~~~

Tony wakes up the next morning completely wrapped in tentacles, nearly head to toe, and he can barely move a muscle. It’s kind of ridiculous how safe he feels.

A second later he wrinkles his nose and squints one eye open as he asks “What- is it humid in here?”

Because seriously, the air is thick with it, heavy and warm. The blankets are shoved down to the end of the bed and there’s already a thin sheen of sweat collecting on Tony’s skin, making it so easy for the tentacles to slide and stroke over his skin.

“So I don’t dry out,” Bucky says, fingers sliding through Tony’s hair and for a second Tony is tempted to forget all about his questions in favor of falling right back to sleep and maybe purring happily for good measure.

But he can’t resist asking “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just go hang out in the pool with everyone else? If they’re still there and equally fishy, of course.”

“Didn’t want to leave,” Bucky says and clings to him a little tighter, as if that’s a reasonable explanation for probably causing water damage to the inside of his room.

“I can’t believe this is even an option, FRIDAY has too much power,” Tony grumbles without an ounce of actual heat, his heart feeling as warm as the rest of him, like he’s melting in the heat of the room. Still, he can’t help pointing out “I hope you don’t have anything in here that’s going to be ruined.”

“Worth it,” Bucky says, happy and warm and completely unconcerned.

Tony hums thoughtfully, and finally makes a decision on that idea he’s been turning over in his head for a couple weeks now.

“Well,” he says slowly, “When this room inevitably grows black mold, I suppose you’ll just have to move in with me.”

For a second Bucky doesn’t respond, all of his tentacles freezing in the act of tracing over Tony’s skin and Tony desperately tries to tell himself that it’s fine. It’s fine, even if Bucky doesn’t want to share a room, they still basically live together already anyways, Bucky still loves him, probably—

“You mean it?” Bucky asks, sounding a little breathless, and when he props himself up on one elbow to look down at Tony the smile on his face is almost blindingly bright.

“Only because black mold is bad,” Tony says but the smile spreading across his own face is almost painfully wide.

Bucky nods with a thoughtful expression, like he’s giving Tony’s reasoning serious thought, and then says “FRIDAY, please crank the humidity.”

“FRI, don’t you dare,” Tony protests, although his attempts at a horrified tone are kind of ruined by his wide grin, “I already can’t breathe in here!”

“Humidity increased 3%,” FRIDAY says dryly and Bucky laughs while Tony gasps loudly in outrage. “Also, Agent Barton has asked me to inform you that you’re not invited to the pool party unless you, in his words, act like normal people.”

Bucky laughs harder while Tony groans loudly and slaps his hands over his eyes, face burning because yeah it’s probably pretty telling that they came home and then immediately disappeared for... twelve hours.

“I’m not going to be able to look any of them in the face for another month,” Tony whines, kicking his legs a little until Bucky’s many limbs shift and tighten around him, making his breath catch in his throat.

"Confirmed monster fucker," Bucky says and pats his hips with one tentacle, voice full of sympathy even though Tony can absolutely feel the way he’s still shaking with laughter.

"I hate you so much,” Tony says without moving his hand, although he can admit (to himself) that this one is entirely on him.

"Nah,” Bucky says, completely and endearingly unconcerned with Tony’s threats, “You love me, you want me to move in.”

"Offer rescinded,” Tony declares, peeking at Bucky from between his fingers before letting his hands fall back to the bed and instead fixing Bucky with a flat look as he adds, “You can just stay here in your moldy swamp room for all I care.”

"Too late for that darlin', you're stuck with me," Bucky says, smirking as he pops one of his suckers loudly against Tony’s skin and then grinning wider when Tony responds with a full-body shudder.

“Only because you’re so clingy,” Tony tries to complain, but it’s pretty unconvincing when his voice comes out a little breathy and he can’t help wrapping his own arms around Bucky in return.

“You love it,” Bucky says again, and Tony can only shrug sheepishly because yeah, he really kind of does.

“Fine,” Tony says with a heavy sigh as he pushes his fingers into Bucky’s hair and uses that grip to pull Bucky’s dumb smiling face up into kissing range, “You and your many limbs can move into my room. But the humidity isn’t invited.”

“Yay,” Bucky cheers quietly and then laughs when Tony huffs and bites at the curve of his jaw.

“Yeah yeah, stop being smug and kiss me already,” Tony grumbles even though he can’t stop himself from smiling either, heart jumping at the open joy on Bucky’s face, the way it practically makes his eyes shine.

“I can do both,” Bucky says, impossibly more smug, and then finally kisses Tony before he can say anything else.

Tony is all too happy to let himself sink into it, sighing softly as Bucky wraps around him tighter, kisses him deeper. The heat and humidity of the room means the drag of skin on skin is slick and easy as Bucky shifts against him, making him shiver at the drag and press of all that muscle, all those limbs.

“So, how long do you think this’ll actually last?” Tony asks between dizzying kisses, arching up into it as one of the tentacles slides over his hip, tantalizingly close to his cock.

“Hopefully long enough,” Bucky says with a smirk, and the tentacle wrapped around Tony’s thigh sides a little higher.

“Long enough for what?” Tony demands, faking horror even as a hard shudder runs through him, even though Bucky can no doubt feel it. Hell, Bucky can probably feel the way Tony’s breath catches and his heart starts beating double time in his chest.

Bucky smirks and makes a thoughtful noise, even though Tony is pretty sure he’s been up for at least an hour now thinking about it, and drags one tentacle along the crease of Tony’s thigh while another finally wraps around his cock.

“Long enough to get you spread out for me in this bed,” Bucky says, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead while Tony gasps and rocks his hips up into the touch, “All bare and stretched out and pinned down, long enough to see you lose yourself for me again, how does that sound babydoll?”

Tony can only whimper in response, try to clench his thighs shut just so he can feel the way the tentacles pull them open again. “Good, sounds good,” he pants out because fuck it, why lie, and Bucky is laughing as he leans in to kiss him again.

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #buckybarnesbingo2020 #tsbmiv

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arcwhore · 4 years

Note

hey love !! was wondering if I could request a john b with prompt #22, “what if someone finds out about us?” Adore your writing!!!!! 🥰

Fuck Them

absolutely!

[john b] x [reader]

prompt: “what if someone finds out about us?”

warnings: none really, some kissing, SLOWBURN

word count: 2585

CREDITS TO OWNER!^^

Sad enough to say, you were a born kook. Your dad moved to the Outer Banks from Florida before you were born and met your mom, a woman who came from the cut, but worked so hard to get everything that she had. She started young, working at a family business, making $4 an hour, just trying to save up for her life. She gained a passion for architecture, working with her father to build houses at the age of 14.

Ever since you were little, your mom always told you, “Don’t mess with those pogues, all they do it drag you down. They don’t change.” You always wondered how she could say such things about the people she grew up around. Of course, she pulled herself out of the gutter, but why didn’t she believe anyone else could? That question remains unsolved to you.

Yet, here you stood, looking down at her headstone and reminiscing. Being here just brought you back with her, like she had never passed. It reminded you just how strong one person could be, to become someone that no one else thought they could be. You placed your hand on the name engraved in the stone, closing your eyes and listening to your surroundings.

“I miss you, mom. More than anything... I promise I’ll make you proud.”

----

You pulled up to The Boneyard, your car going dark as you turned the ignition off. Your friend, Kiara had invited you to a small party that her and her friends were throwing. You knew she didn’t prefer the kook lifestyle, and quite honestly, neither did you, but you were forced into it by your family. You hated golfing, hated the big fancy dress up parties, you hated pretty much everything about it. You wondered how Kiara could deal with being so disobedient to her parents. They didn’t want her hanging with the Pogues either, but she did.

You walked toward the group of kids, kicking the sand up with your sandals as you trekked. You stepped over the huge logs and saw Kiara standing with a friend of hers. He was tall, blonde hair, muscular, and you saw the light reflect off of his blue eyes. You smirked, automatically thinking that this is the boy she’s always talking about. “Kie!”

Her head whipped around from the boy, seeing you standing in the light of the campfire. “Y/N! Hey, boo!” The tan girl came running up to you, pulling you into a tight hug, which you melted into. She pulled back, rubbing your arms and smiling. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Of course! I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet your friends!” You peered over her shoulder, seeing the boy she was previously talking to now looking down at his shoes awkwardly. You decided to introduce yourself, yelling out to him. “And you must be JJ!”

You started walking towards him, his head popping up at the sound of his name. He gave you a tight lipped smile, looking down at your hand when you extended it. He shook it, not knowing what else to do, making you giggle. “I’m Y/N, Kie’s told me a ton about-”

Kie came up behind you, her hand slapping over your mouth. You laughed into her hand, pulling it down to look at her. “Sorry, JJ, she’s just excited to be at a Pogue party.” You rolled your eyes at her, eyes wandering around, trying to fish out any sign of alcohol.

“Oooo, a keg!” your eyes landed on it, now walking away from your friend, leaving her with her crush. You went to grab a solo cup, but a hand stopped you. You looked up and locked eyes with a pair of brown orbs. You felt as if your breath left your body, taking a good look at his beautiful face. He had a golden tan, long, brown curly hair, beautiful lips… shit; you thought to yourself. You had just laid eyes on him and you were already ready to risk it all.

“Here, let me,” he winked at you, breaking the silence. You innocently nodded, taking your hand away to allow him to pour your drink. He handed you the cup, and you smiled, offering him a thank you. “Kie told me she was inviting a kook, but I didn’t expect her to be so gorgeous.”

You choked on your drink, the beer spitting around your face. You quickly wiped your hand over your face, looking up at him like he’d lost his mind. You stared at him for a minute before replying, “you sure you’re talking to the right person?”

He chuckled and nodded, holding his hand out to you. “I’m John B.”

You switched your drink over to your dirty hand, careful not to embarrass yourself any further. You shook his hand; it was warm and his skin was soft. He was giving you so many thoughts that you shouldn’t even be having. “I’m Y/N.”

He didn’t let go of your hand, rather pulling it up and kissing the back of it. You giggled at the gesture and he released your hand. “A gentleman, I like it.”

“I can be,” he responded. Your eyes stayed locked for a few more moments before JJ and Kie came up to you.

“I see you’ve met, JB.” she wrapped an arm around your shoulders playfully. You broke eye contact, turning to look at Kiara. Another boy with darker skin joined the group, introducing himself to you. After chatting for a few, you wanted to get down to business and do what you came here to do.

“Let’s get this party, started!” you screamed, running towards the ocean with your cup in hand. The wind blew your hair all over the place, the sound of the waves so calming. Everything changed when the music turned on, everyone singing their hearts out, swinging their bodies to the rhythm. You pointed to Kiara, waving her over to you as you finished the rest of your drink. You put the cup into John B.’s hand, winking at him and started dancing close to Kie. Both of your hips moved effortlessly, your hands placed on her waist, bending down teasingly. You popped back up, laughing, turning back to back with her, shimmying. By then, the boys had stopped staring, just staring at the performance unfolding in front of them.

“What is happening right now?” Pope questioned, looking between the other two boys.

“I have no clue, but it’s hot as fuck,” JJ spoke up, licking his lips as he looked you two up and down. John B. hit him on the arm, shutting him up.

He watched you dance, a feeling arising in his chest. You looked so beautiful, hair swinging and clothes rippling in the wind. Your skin gleamed in the low light, embers from the fire falling into your hair. You danced like no one was around, like you had no cares in the world. He loved the aura you gave off, he’d never seen it in someone before. He loved how careless you were, and he knew he would be the one to fall. If you didn’t fall for him first…

It had been 2 weeks since the party, and you’d gotten closer to Kie than ever. You had been hanging out with the pogues, which would be much to your mother's dismay, but you didn’t care. You didn’t understand why she kept you away from them; they had all the energy you needed in friends, all the personality you could ask for, and they gave you the pleasure of going on wild adventures.

You were currently all piled in John B. 's beaten up Volkswagen, speeding down the back road. You all screamed the lyrics to Best of Friends, John B.’s hands drumming on the steering wheel. You were in the passenger seat, looking over at him in adoration. You had already begun to fall for him, and you had no intent on stopping. You were falling hard, and he gave you this ecstatic feeling you could never find anywhere else.

He felt the staring, glancing over at you and smiling. He let his hand wander over to yours, grabbing it. Your heart swelled at the gesture, giving his hand a squeeze back. Luckily, everyone in the back was so occupied with their little concert that they didn’t see it. He moved his hand back to the wheel and yours felt heavy without his holding it.

When you arrived at the chateau, everyone got out, but you stayed in your seat, pulling John B. back when he tried to get out. “Can we talk?”

He nodded, making sure everyone was out of the van before locking the doors. You sighed shakily, your hands rubbing your legs furiously. You felt a warm touch on top of yours, his eyes looking back at you with concern.

“What’s up?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You pulled your hands away, scared to open up to him.

“This is a really sore subject for me, John B… but I just need to talk to you about something.” You looked at him and he gestured for you to continue. “So, about 5 months ago, uhm, my mom, she passed away. She had stage 4 ovarian cancer and even after sending her to the mainland for treatment, they said they couldn’t do anything. She came from a poor family, and growing up, she always forced me to hang with kooks, scared that pogues would change me. I’ve started to realize that you guys have changed me into a better person. I’m so much happier than I was right after my mom died, and you’re a big part of that JB. So, I wanted to say thank you.” You finished, sniffling and trying your best not to let any tears slip past.

The boy reaches over the console, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wound around him, soon breaking down in his arms. He rubbed small circles on your back to soothe you. Your tears soaked through his hawiaiian shirt and you pulled back, mumbling a ‘sorry.’

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know how it feels to lose someone so close to you in the blink of your eyes. It hurts, and it leaves you… broken… But you have to find sanction in other things, find good people who will help you through it. I’m glad we could be that group for you, so you’re welcome.”

You gave him a shy smile, not wanting to look up at him. You knew your eyes would be red and puffy, your cheeks blotchy, and you could feel your nose running. You wiped it with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, staring down at your lap. A hand came to your chin, tilting your head up. You looked directly into John B.’s eye’s, almost seeing right through them. You could see everything inside them; everything you needed, everything you wanted. You wanted to wake up to them every morning. Your body begged you to lean in and kiss him, but you didn’t. You sat there like a rock, feeling like an idiot. His hand dropped from your face and you heard him mumble something under his breath, unlocking the car and getting out.

-----

You sat at your vanity, doing your makeup when John B. called you.

“Hey JB!” You answered cheerfully.

“Hey, Y/N. Can I come over, or can you come over here? I really need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” you responded, your voice laced with concern. You said your goodbyes and you hung up. You went to the bathroom to grab a makeup wipe since you didn’t have time to finish anyway, bringing your phone with you to keep track of time. You took off your pajamas and threw on a swimsuit and shorts, grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

The whole way over your mind reeled of possibilities. His father contacted him? He found the gold? He has a girlfriend? A pang of jealousy shot through you at the thought, hating the fact of even thinking about him with another girl. It had been a little over a month since you opened up to him about your mother and the little incident happened in the car, but neither of you had spoken of it. You hated when he got out of the car that night, leaving you vulnerable. You told yourself you were stupid to even get your hopes up with him, that it was all just an act, but you couldn’t help but feel something.

You pulled up and parked your car outside, stepping out onto the gravel. You went around back to the porch to see John B. relaxing on a chair, drinking a beer. You giggled at him, taking a seat on the bench beside him.

“It’s 11 in the morning bub.”

“Just doing some day drinking, not planning on getting shitfaced.” he whined, setting it down.

“What did you wanna talk about?” Your legs were crossed and the top one bounced up and down; a nervous habit of yours.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out. The world around you stopped and you went wide eyed. This must be a joke.

“Okay, you’ve definitely had too much to drink this morning,” you retorted, standing up to grab his beer from him. He stood up and met you in the middle.

“I’m serious, Y/N. This is my first beer.” he pleaded. His hand came up and cupped your cheek, and you leaned into it, placing yours on top of it. He stared at you for a moment, searching for some other expression. “I’m in love with you, Y/N L/N.”

A choked sigh came from your lips, stepping closer to him. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

He smiled down at you, leaning in to kiss you, but your mothers words came back to you. You slowly pulled your head back from him. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, stepping back in retaliation.

“I’m sorry, I thought that’s what you wanted. We don’t have to kiss-”

“No, John B., it’s okay.” You gave him an assuring smile. “I just… what if someone finds out about us?”

“Fuck them. Fuck their rules and fuck thier stereotypes. I want you, and if you want me too, then why should we give a fuck what anyone thinks about us? I’m not going to love you any less just because of some irrelevant person’s opinion. Even the pogues, I mean, yeah we have a rule, whatever, but JJ and Kie are bound to break it at some point.”

You laughed at him, your heart swelling at his little speech. You took a step closer to him, putting your arms around his neck. You leaned in to close the gap between you, lips melding to perfectly together. His arms pulled you closer by the waist as you stood on your tiptoes to reach his lips. You didn’t move, stayed in that one kiss for what felt like could be your forever, until John B. started leaning you back, your leg kicking up like in a ballroom dance. You shrieked, regaining your balance and holding on tight to him.

“I love you, John B.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

my masterlist

#outer banks #kiara carrera #jj maybank #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #john b rutledge #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks smut

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xazz · 3 years

Photo

Moth Wings 7

Pairing: AltMal, Altair+Desmond Rating: Explicit Tags: vampires, romance, servant AU, music AU, fluff, angst, flangst Status: WIP

Oof it’s been a while. I should really keep on top of this here on Tumblr. As before Tumblr gets updated before AO3, meanwhile Patreon is like 40k words ahead of everyone. Like Malik and Altair have fucked already lol

----------

Altair was alone in his room carefully restringing his violin. One of the strings had snapped and he took it as an excuse to put all new ones on. He saved the good old ones but putting new ones on gave him something to do before he passed out.

He’d been playing so much and that was why the string had broken. He’d tightened it too much and just all the playing he’d been doing the past few weeks had put a strain on the string and made it snap. It’d also left a cut across the top of his hand when it’d snapped, nothing serious but he’d had to leave Desmond in the care of someone else until the bleeding stopped. You couldn’t have an open wound around a vampire child like that. They didn’t have the control adults did.

He perked up when there was a knock on his door. Who? He got up and opened the door and couldn’t help himself. He looked down at Malik’s chest instead of at his face. “Did you need something, sir?” Altair asked.

“I came to see how your hand was doing,” Malik said.

Altair self consciously reached over and touched his bandage wrapped hand. It stung a little still but the bleeding had stopped. It had only broken the top few layers of skin, barely bleeding at all. “It’s doing fine. Probably won’t even scar.”

“Won’t affect your playing?”

“No, sir,” he said, still not looking at Malik directly.

“Are you able to play now?” Altair just shrugged. He flinched when Malik gently tipped his head up. “I don’t like talking to the top of your head, Altair.”

“Habit,” was all he said. Malik’s hand stayed under his chin, barely touching him.

“Is your hand well enough to play?”

“Tomorrow, probably. I should give it time to heal.”

“Good,” Malik nodded. “I’ve heard you playing for Desmond, you sound better every time, I swear.”

“Yeah, it’s called practice,” Altair said. Malik laughed. He’d never made a vampire laugh before. Well, except Desmond. But that hardly counted. Desmond was a baby.

“How are you sleeping?”

“That’s not your concern,” Altair said and finally pulled his head out of Malik’s reach, taking a step back into his room, hand on the door. “I don’t give you permission to come in here,” he said when he saw Malik try to step over his threshold. While Malik was invited into the castle and that meant every room he was welcome in you could revoke that permission. Altair had learned that when Desmond had first learned to walk and ended up almost going into rooms he shouldn’t have been in because he was curious. Altair was technically a member of the house and he could deny others access to rooms. He didn’t do it often.

Malik was frozen at the doorway. “I’m just trying to help you, Altair.”

“I asked you to leave me alone, sir,” Altair said. “That would help me.”

“How? Huh?”

“What does my condition have to do with you? You’re not of this coven, you’re not of this house. You’re just a guest. You shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of your hosts-

“Because I am not a monster is why,” Malik snapped. “And when I see suffering I want to end it if I can. My country is tearing itself apart and my coven decided to ‘make the best of it’ by coming to the conclusion that because humans were killing each other they could just casually hunt humans again like we were monsters. I couldn’t do anything to end the suffering there but damnit I can try and do something here,” he’d gotten very worked up and Altair was glad they were on opposite sides of the threshold.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like this, Altair. I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. So far you’ve done nothing but bring me pain,” Altair told him. “I was in ignorant bliss before. And you thinking you know what is best for me, a man you don’t even know, just made my reality all the more crushing. I told you before, you may help me now but you won’t be here forever, and when you leave this is where I’ll be. I’d rather not know the silken pillow for the stone that comes later.” Malik had nothing to say to that but he looked very annoyed.

“I need to go to bed now. Goodnight, Malik,” and he closed the door. He heard Malik make an wordless noise of anger and frustration on the other side but he didn’t care. He sat back down on his cot to finish stringing the violin. Only then did he put it away carefully and crawl into bed.

—

Now that Altair had taken Desmond outside the boy wanted to go more often. Altair didn’t mind. It was nice this time of year. Brisk at night, a creeping autumn chill settling in the valley. The leaves were starting to change color and soon they’d be falling. The master would bring some humans up in the day and have the grounds raked. It’d start snowing early and last well into spring. Altair had liked autumn and winter before he’d come to the castle but up here in isolation he hated it. There was no hot cider or warm fruit pies or the harvest festival.

So he was surprised when the master came and found Altair and Desmond in one of the gardens. Desmond was splashing his hands in the fountain, chasing the fish around the circular pond and slapping the water to make them dart away. Every time they swam away he’d laugh. Altair had a lamp beside him and was drawing idly. When the master came up he stopped drawing and kept his eyes down.

“So this is where you’ve been off to,” the master said.

“Yes, sir. The young master likes being outside in this weather,” Altair said, looking at the vampire’s well made shoes.

“Good. The town is throwing a festival in a few days. Bring him down to it.”

Altair looked up in surprise but when he met the master’s black eyes his brows went down and Altair immediately looked down again. “The harvest festival? We’re to go this year?”

“Yes. It’s good for him to see what sorts of things humans do so he isnt stupid.”

“Am I simply to accompany you and the mistress or am I free to wander?”

The master was thoughtful. “We will be the king and queen of the harvest and stationary. But a festival is a big place for exploring. We want our son to experience it.”

“Of course, master,” Altair bowed slightly where he was sitting.

“Ensure you look presentable when you go down there. You reflect on us as well,” he said.

“Yes, master,” Altair nodded. You mean not wear the same shirt he’d worn three days in a row because he hadn’t had a chance to wash them because he couldn’t add his laundry to the coven’s. William left after that, stopping briefly to see what Desmond was doing but he didn’t have much interest in the child.

Altair bit his lower lip and went back to his drawing. He needed to plan for this and make sure he had time to clean his nicer clothes. Or at least his nicest clothes. They were fairly nice too. He didn’t wear them often so he could keep them in good shape.

He heard a rustling of the trees and looked up, shielding the lamp slightly to help with his night vision. At first he saw nothing and then he hunched. A few members of the coven were flying off into the dark, their dragonfly and beetle wings flashing in the silver moonlight. He could hear their voices from here but not what they were saying, chattering to each other. Desmond looked up too. He held onto the fountain and started jumping up and down his little transparent wings buzzing without generating any lift. But he was trying.

They swooped across the nearly full moon, laughing and playing and Altair didn’t like watching them. Seeing human figures with wings like bugs flying in the night sky didn’t fill him with a sense of wonder. Were they just playing? Or were they out to play hunt? He’d heard of that happening, especially this coven. Not in Castlesong but in other towns in the valley they’d play stalk and hunt the people there only to laugh and dart away into the sky, finding the human’s fear of being eaten hilarious.

The vampires darted around the air but eventually flew too far away for Altair to hear or see them anymore. That made him feel better. He turned away from the sky. Desmond whined in annoyance he couldn’t fly with them and kept jumping to try and fly after them. Then he sat angrily on the ground, arms folded, pouting hard. Altair grinned watching him. “You’ll fly one day, Desmond,” Altair called to him. Desmond just whined and reached up towards the moon. “I know. You’ll get there when you’re older, just like the others,” Altair promised him.

“Now,” Desmond whined. Altair laughed. Desmond got up and came over to Altair and collapsed on his thigh. “Now,” he said looking up at Altair.

“Sorry. I can’t fly, neither can you,” he stroked Desmond’s hair gently. “But once your wings are bigger you’ll be able to.” Desmond just whined. “I know. Being a sweet little boy is so hard,” Altair teased him. Desmond whined louder and Altair just laughed some more.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Altair nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him. He twisted around and frowned. It was Malik. He’d left Altair alone for a few days but he couldn’t seem to figure it out that Altair wanted to just be left alone for real. He was dressed in an elegant black and blue outfit that wasn’t a cut Altair had ever seen. At least not on a man. It looked almost like a dress but closer to a long tunic.

“Did you need something, sir?” Altair asked, looking at Desmond instead of Malik.

“I couldn’t help but overhear. Desmond wanted to join the others in a flight?”

“Yes. But he’s still too little.” Desmond pouted at Altair.

“Well that’s true, but he can still fly.”

Altair looked at him in confusion. “Unless there’s something I’m missing about how wings work, no he can’t,” he said.

He almost swallowed his tongue when Malik came around and without asking picked Desmond up. The child protested for half a second but in that time Malik unfurled his huge wings and picked himself up off the ground. Then Desmond started making happy little squeaks like he did when she was a newborn.

Altair got to his feet nervously, drawings forgotten. “Don’t drop him,” Altair called up to Malik who was only ten or so feet above his head.

“I would never,” Malik said. He flew back and forth around the fountain.

Altair’s heart was in his throat when Malik flew up over the garden trees and he lost sight of them in the darkness. His heart pounded with anxiety and then a huge pair of eyes appeared in the darkness above. Altair took a moment to realize it was the false eyes on the inside of Malik’s moth-like wings. He let out a shaky breath of relief when Malik landed in front of him.

“He’s fine,” Malik said even as Altair snatched the baby from Malik.

“If he was anything less than fine it’d be my life,” Altair said, holding Desmond tightly.

“Plaw!” Desmond cried happily, squirming in Altair’s arms but Altair kept a firm grip on him.

Altair took a deep breath to calm himself but his heart was still hammering. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked Desmond. Desmond nodded hugely, a huge smile on his face. “What do we say to people who do nice things for us?” he asked and faced Desmond towards Malik.

“Thank you,” Desmond cried cutely.

Malik looked taken aback a moment and then softened. “You’re welcome. What are you doing out here?”

“We’re enjoying the night,” Altair said, trying not to sound incredulous. He was a servant, not a captive. He could leave the castle as he wanted and certainly walk the grounds.

“Plaw plaw,” Desmond demanded.

“Desmond, hush,” Altair said.

“Altear, plaw!”

Altair sighed. “Alright.” He’d left his violin in the castle. He tried to juggle Desmond around to pick up his things but to his surprise Malik just did so instead. “I can take those,” he said, holding a hand out for them.

“I don’t mind,” Malik said.

“I’m sure this doesn’t qualify as leaving me alone,” Altair said.

“I live here. You’ll have to get used to me being around,” Malik said with a smirk. The real annoying part about it was that it just made Malik look more handsome, especially with his slightly wind ruffled hair from flying.

Altair just didn’t bother arguing. “Fine,” he said and took Desmond back into the castle. He let the boy down in his room and Desmond ran around and pulled out some of his toys and set them up like a little audience to listen to Altair play the violin. “I’ll take that now,” he held his hand for his things again to Malik.

“Can I join the audience?” Malik asked sheepishly. That annoyed Altair. Why was he so persistent in trying to bother Altair? Couldn’t he just leave Altair alone? But Altair figured at this point it’d be easier just to go along with it than fight Malik on it. He was good at making himself a nuisance and Altair didn’t have the energy to fight him.

“If you want,” and Altair took the sketchbook and his pencils. Malik glided into the room and sat cross legged behind Desmond’s toys he was still setting up to witness Altair’s playing.

Altair got his violin and got ready. He’d built up the proper calluses now over the weeks and his hand dexterity was way up. That made him happy. “Is everyone ready?” he asked Desmond who was carefully aligning his toys just so.

“Almost,” Desmond said, rearranging the wooden horses he had into some order that made the most sense to him, which Altair had no idea what that was but it made him happy. Then Desmond flopped down next to a large soft stuffed animal. “Plaw,” he said and he gave a little cheer when Altair drew out the first chord across the strings.

The two vampires watched and listened in silent delight. Altair hardly noticed them. He was playing a song he’d found the last time he’d visited his father. He’d brought some sheet music back up to the castle to have some actual music to play. The song he played was the only one he’d memorized so far. It was normally played with a singing accompaniment but Altair didn’t sing well enough to try. It was about a mountain climber trying to reach the tallest peak surrounding the valley. But he was foolish and went during a blizzard and never came home. People found him frozen to death on the side of the mountain a week later once the weather turned. It was a sad song but the tempo was upbeat and was usually sung as a cheerful but cautionary tale about not being an idiot and staying home during blizzards.

He finished the song and Malik clapped. Desmond looked at Malik and after a second mimicked him, slapping his palms together and not really succeeding in a proper clap. “That was amazing,” Malik said. “Right, Desmond? Altair plays beautiful music.”

“Bu-ful,” Desmond declared, still clapping.

“Did you make that?” Malik asked him.

“No. It’s a well known bard tune here in the valley. It’s about not going out during a blizzard or you’ll freeze to death,” Altair said.

“Excuse my ignorance: what’s a blizzard?” Malik asked. “We don’t have that where I’m from.”

“Well it's a storm but instead of rain it’s snow so thick you can’t see through it and can drop feet and feet of snow. It’s dangerous to go out in because of the cold.”

Malik grimaced. “That sounds terrible. Do you have blizzards often here?”

“A few times during winter, yes.” He laughed when Malik shivered just thinking about it. “You came here.”

“I didn’t think the weather would be that extreme,” Malik admitted.

“Altear, plaw plaw,” Desmond said, quite over the adults having a conversation when he could have more music.

“Okay okay,” Altair said to quiet him. He tried playing a song he was in the process of memorizing. He had the first part down but the second part was coming along slow. But he played it and the vampires didn’t care that he played the first few dozen bars over and over again to try and remember the next part.

Eventually he grew frustrated. He needed the sheet music. “Alright, that’s enough for now,” he declared.

“Awwww,” Desmond complained.

“I’ll play later,” Altair said.

“Yay!”

“Now put your toys away. They all want to go home after the performance,” Altair said. Desmond got up and started picking up his toys.

Malik unfolded from the floor. “That was magnificent,” he said, coming over to Altair as he was putting his instrument away. “It sounds so different from how you started off.”

“Desmond insists I play every day. It’s hard not to improve,” Altair said.

“I’m quite jealous of him. He gets to hear you play all the time. I just do if I happen to walk by at the right moment.” Altair just shrugged. Malik looked at Desmond cleaning up. “I’ve seen other vampire children, they’re never this well behaved, or clean up their own mess,” he said.

“Were they raised by vampires, or humans?”

“Vampires,” Malik said.

“Vampire parents don’t care about their children,” Altair said, punctuating it with clasps on the case snapping closed.

“That’s not true,” Malik protested.

Altair looked at him mildly, looking up but over his shoulder just so Malik wouldn’t touch him. “From what I’ve seen so far they don’t,” was all he said.

Malik grimaced. “Well... William and Kaley aren’t really star parent material I’ll agree,” he said. “But most other vampire parents care about the raising of their children. They’re still rarely this well behaved.”

“You can care about your children but if they’re old and aloof you’ll neglect them anyway,” Altair said. “And they’ll act unruly. I assume that’s why the masters have had humans raise their children for them. They know they don’t care, so force a human to care about them instead.”

Malik was taken aback. “The rest of them?”

“As far as I know,” Altair shrugged. He moved away from Malik and went to help Desmond with the last bit of putting his toys away. “What do you want to do now, Desmond?”

Desmond looked thoughtful. “Dwa,” he said.

“Okay,” Altair said gently and got some paper and pastels and pencils and put them on the floor for Desmond to draw with. Altair didn’t mind if Malik was still there. He could hang around if he wanted but Altair didn’t care about him. His only worry was Desmond. Desmond had an active imagination and loved drawing and it was full of color and intricate lines as he mimicked Altair. Altair also sometimes drew him lined drawings to color in. He’d gotten very good at drawing flowers as of late for Desmond to color in as those were some of Desmond's favorites. It meant there was a stuffed folder full of messily colored well drawn flowers.

He was shocked when Malik sat down on the floor with them. “May I join you, young master?” he asked Desmond.

“Dwa?”

“Yes. I like to draw too.”

“Okie,” Desmond said happily and went back to merrily scribbling on some paper.

Altair looked at Malik as he started drawing on a half used piece of paper Desmond had already drawn a few wide scribbles on. He was using Desmond seemingly random lines to make something out of them. Altair couldn’t help but keep glancing at what Malik was drawing even as he was casually using the pastels to make block shapes on his own paper. He was surprised that Malik was actually quite good. He had a delicate but purposeful hand, the pencil he was using barely leaving a mark on the paper but he went over it again and again to build up depth and volume in a way Altair had never seen before.

After a little while he’d turned some spiraled scribbles Desmond had put on the paper into strange centaurs of those striped horses that pulled his carriage. Zebras? Altair thought that was what they were called.

“Ooo,” Desmond leaned over to see what Malik was doing. “Horsey,” he pointed.

“Yes. They’re called zebras,” Malik said patiently.

“Zeeebas,” Desmond said.

“Close,” Malik allowed. “I have some.”

“Have horsies?”

Altair sighed. “Now you’ve done it?”

“What?” Malik asked.

“Horsies. Horsies. Horsies!” Desmond cried. “Altear horsies.”

“I take it he likes horses?” Malik asked with a grin.

“He loves horses. Ever since he saw Jacob and Evie leave that one time on them a few weeks ago to go visit a town in the north part of the valley but they were too lazy to fly,” Altair sighed.

“Altear, horsies! Zeeeebas!”

“I think he just wants to taste one at this point,” Altair leaned on his thigh.

Malik chuckled. “I have zebras,” he told Desmond. Desmond’s black eyes got huge. “Would you like to see them, young master?” Desmond’s mouth popped open and he just made a high pitched screeing sound he did when he was excited.

Altair reached over and closed his mouth. “That’s loud,” he said. Desmond flapped his hands at Altair excitedly, whining loudly. “Use your words and answer master Malik properly,” he said calmly.

Desmond tried to compose himself but he still flapped his arms excitedly. “Go zeebas?”

“Ah— if it’s alright with Altair,” Malik looked at Altair.

“What do we say?” Altair asked Desmond.

“Please!”

“Yes. We see the zebras. But first we have to clean up.” Desmond made an annoyed noise. “The quicker we clean up the sooner we can see the zebras.” Desmond immediately got up and started putting the pastels and pencils into their wooden bin. Altair gathered up the papers. Malik handed over his zebra centaurs over to Altair to add to the pile. Altair took a more than cursory glance over the picture and quickly put it away and got up to hide his blush. The two centaurs had his and Malik’s faces on them.

How inappropriate.

Altair picked up the bin and put them away, out of reach of Desmond normally and the paper went into one of the nearly overflowing folders full of paper. “All clean?” Altair asked Desmond.

“All cwean!” Desmond said proudly. Altair held out his hand and Desmond bounced over to grab it. “Zeebas now?” he asked, pulling on Altair’s hand.

“Yes. If that’s alright with you, sir.”

“Of course. I offered,” Malik said. He guided them out of the room and through the castle. They passed a few members of the coven who’d just come back from their flight, laughing and shoving each other playfully. They greeted Malik and Desmond but ignored Altair entirely, not even acknowledging that he was holding Desmond’s hand while he excitedly told them they were going to see the horses in the stables. Then they passed the trio by and disappeared into the castle.

“Rude bunch,” Malik said.

“They’re vampires,” was all Altair said and he saw Malik wince.

They left the castle and Altair saw the dull color of a false dawn on the horizon. They couldn’t be out here too long. Malik led them around the drive to the stables. In the large stables were normal horses and in a paddock outside were Malik’s four zebras.

Desmond cried out when he saw the zebras and pulled on Altair’s hand but Altair only walked a little faster.

They got to the fence and Altair picked Desmond to put him on top of the fence to sit, holding onto the boy lightly so he didn’t fall. “Just be ready to grab him,” Malik said.

“Why?”

“Zebras can be... aggressive,” Malik said even as he climbed over the fence. Yes. Just say that and walk off like it didn’t shoot worry all through Altair instantly.

He didn’t know what Malik was doing but he did start leading a zebra over by a halter. The creature seemed lethargic. Not a shock. It was late and it had probably been just woken up. “Here we go, young master, a zebra,” Malik said, presenting the zebra before Desmond. “I believe this one’s name is Qaseem.”

“Horsie,” Desmond said and reached out to pet the front of its nose. The zebra allowed it, its eyes lidded and sleepy. “Pretty,” he said.

“Yes. They are, aren’t they,” Malik said. “They’re from my country, far to the south of here. Only vampires keep them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re a pain to train, and breed, and maintain,” Malik said and Desmond just stared at him, not understanding. “Because humans don’t like them,” he said instead.

“Ooooh.” That Desmond understood.

Malik let Desmond pet Qaseem for a little bit before Altair said, “The sun will be up soon. We should go back inside.”

“No. Horsie,” Desmond whined.

“We can see the horsie tomorrow night too. But the sun is coming. We don’t like the sun, right?”

Desmond looked torn. “Sun bad,” he finally agreed.

Altair helped Desmond down from the fence once he gave Qaseem one last pet on the head. Malik released the zebra to go back and join the others of the little herd. He climbed over the fence and joined them on the right side. “See zeebas again?”

“Yes, of course,” Malik said.

“Yay! Altear, hungry,” he proclaimed.

“Yes. I’m sure,” Altair said.

---------

Hey you, yeah, if you liked it, consider reblogging. It helps me a lot. Maybe leave something nice in the tags idk.

#Assassin's Creed #AltMal #Altair #Malik al-Sayf #Desmond Miles #Moth Wings #shut up bb

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lannister-slings-and-arrows · 4 years

Note

Hey you! Ok how about Pedro’s characters and the first time they wink at you. ILY and thank you 🙈

Hey babes! I simultaneously love and hate you for this ask because jfc winking irl is so fucking skeezy but, as with a lot of things I previously thought I despised, when Pedro does it I get a little weak in the knees lol. So now I have an excuse to comb through every gif of him winking. You know. For research. For SCIENCE. (Under the cut, cause fucking HELL. This got loooooong.)

(Gif made by @djjarindin )

Whiskey- On your very first day as a Statesman you make the dubious acquaintance of Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels. You’re standing at the window of your new office, flipping one of your knives in the air idly, when a handsome man in tight blue jeans and a black Stetson saunters in without so much as a by your leave. His grin is lazy, charming, and you acknowledge, in the deepest recesses of your hind brain, incredibly enticing.

“Well howdy there, darling,” he greets, thumbs hooked in the front of his belt, drawing your gaze to- is that a flask on his belt buckle? His mustache twitches up on one side as he notices that your eyes landed exactly where he had intended.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing playing with those pig stickers? You could hurt yourself with knives like that.” He steps closer to you, one hand leaving his belt to brace against the window next to your head so he can lean further into your space.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing playing with those pistols you’ve got under your jacket or that lasso at your hip,” you reply coolly, not backing away from his intrusion into your space. His raises his and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Well touché, kitten.” He bends a little at his knees to catch your eyes better and suggests softly in a voice that 90% of you demands you to listen to, “How’s about you and I get outta here and I can give you a tour of the place? Maybe, show you the ropes?” And he then winks at you.

That last 10% of your willpower has something to say to his blatant attempt at getting into your pants.

You slap him.

Javier Peña- You had been warned by more than one person that feminism hadn’t really made its way to Columbia yet when you accepted the portion to field agent and transferred down to the DEA office in Bogota. It was 1990 however, and you kind of expected the Americans you worked with to at least be a little more on board with the times.

That was on you, men were men it seemed, American or Columbian.

The tall blond who introduced himself as Murphy seemed nice enough, he was friendly and a little distracted, and he sounded almost apologetic as he led you further into the office to meet the other member of your team.

“Well hello there, sugar,” a man a couple of inches shorter than Steve greeted you from where he had been leaning on a desk by the door. He stood up straight and sauntered- there was really no other word for how pants that tight made a man walk- closer to the two of you, a wide smile stretched his mustache over his handsome face and showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh lord. One of those men.

“Javi this is-“ Murphy started, clearly trying to diffuse a potential situation but the man interrupted him, and his hand reached for yours, holding it a little longer than necessary.

“A girl too pretty for your married ass to be talking to, Steve.” He still had your hand in between his two large warm ones and you filed that information away for use at a later, much more solitary time. He had the audacity to wink at you and you sighed and rolled your eyes. Ah well.

“I’m your new partner.” Guess feminism still has some strides to make no matter what the nationality of idiot male.

Ezra- You had been stuck on this interminably brown moon for a week and you were going stir crazy. You and your still new partner had landed in a manner that was less than gentle or correct on this nameless rock, and not only was your landing gear bent at an angle a university mathematician would have trouble describing, Ezra couldn’t get the damn thing to start again.

You weren’t any sort of mechanic by nature, that was one of the things he brought to the table, so until Ezra managed to repair whatever was wrong with this hunk of junk the two of you were still paying off, you were stuck sitting on your hands doing nothing. You had no particular desire to go traipsing around this rock by yourself, protection was one of the other things the man added to your partnership, as you had learned early in your mining career that that generally did not end well for people like you.

So there you sat, bored, listening to the click and clank of Ezra’s tools as he did whatever it was that you needed to do to get an impulse engine working enough to take off and dock to an FTL vessel. And listening to Ezra’s constant talking.

He was currently telling you a rather long winded, even for him and that was saying something, story about how an old partner of his woke up every morning and sanitized the floor of their pod with antibac spray before he would let any of the other four men set foot on it.

“The gentleman in question was a rather odd duck, badger,” he called out to you from half way inside the pod. “Why, in all my years and in all my travels in the black, I must avow never having seen someone so resolved on keeping the extremities of his associates so unsullied. I never cognized if his time running the stars had finally fractured his wits and this was the inevitable concomitant of a life lived as we do, or if it was a tic peculiar to him for all of his life. Still and all, one advantage I did discover at the conclusion of that particular venture: the bottoms of my socks never have been cleaner.”

An unexpectedly loud guffaw punched its way out of your mouth and you dropped the flat rock you had been attempting to balance on a piece of the aforementioned broken landing equipment. Unfortunately, Ezra decided at that exact time to shimmy his way out from under your craft and instead of falling harmlessly back to the ground where you had found it, it bounced off of his rather distracting ass on its way down.

He stopped moving and you were about to apologize, you really hadn’t meant to basically throw a rock at him, no matter how much he annoyed you at times, when you heard his voice float up to you again, a little amused, and a little something else that you had had occasion to notice a few times before but had never thought to classify.

“Badger, did you just take your hand to my ass?” You felt your face flush and wondered if this planet’s atmosphere wasn’t as hospitable to humans as you had thought.

“What?!” You squeaked, voice cracking when it hit a pitch normally very much out of your range.”No! I just dropped a rock!” You heard him chuckle from your feet and refused to look at him as he shuffled all the way out from under to pod and stood to his full height in front of you. He chucked you under the chin and finally you looked up into his eyes.

“Because darling, I strongly advocate any physical contact that you might desire to have with any part of my body you so wish, at any time of your choosing,” he told you with a wink.

Catfish- You had moved to Texas to take up residence on the ranch your grandfather had left you, not out of any real desire to take up the cowboy life. You hated how hot it was, you hated how slowly everyone talked, you hated how big the entire goddamned state was, and if one more goddamned truck managed to take up three goddamned parking spaces at the grocery store one more time you were going to throw a temper tantrum that would make all their southern asses wish they had managed to secede.

That was how you had met Catfish (”No that isn’t my real name; no one but my mama calls me Francisco”). He had been the next asshole in a truck to take up more than what your space conscious Yankee ass had deemed his due.

“Listen ma’am-”

“Don’t you “ma’am” me, how old are you implying I look?!”

“Sorry, miss, if you’re gonna holler at me, could we step a little further away from the truck? I just got that baby to sleep, and if she wakes up starts cryin’ again, I think I’m gonna start too.”

After a meet cute like that, it was inevitable that the two of you would hit it off as well as you did, and so a year later saw you still in a state that you were convinced was trying to kill you (hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Republicans, and rattlesnakes???), stretched out on Catfish’s beat up couch, more than a little drunk, and a lot happier than when you had left New York to come here.

Catfish set both new bottles of beer down on the coffee table in front of you and smiled down at you with that big grin that summoned both the dimples in his cheeks and made you feel like your heart was growing four sizes larger inside your chest. He took off his ever present beat up baseball cap and tossed it on your lap. His hair was simultaneously flattened and a mess and you were sure he couldn’t look more handsome in this moment if he had an army of Hollywood stylists attack him.

He reached down to he hem of his grey Henley and started to pull it up.

“Whoa there cowboy!” You exclaimed with a grin, sitting up and plopping his hat onto your head for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize I was getting a show when I came over here!” He stopped with his shirt half way off his torso and looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“It’s hot as goddamned balls in here, baby, and I’m wearin’ two of these things. One of ‘em at least is comin’ off.” He pulled it off the rest of the way and straightened his first layer that had attempted to escape with its compatriot before reaching down and grabbing his hat off of your head and flopping onto the couch next to you.

“Hey Fish, how long do you think we have before the baby wakes up?” He shrugged, his head rolling on the back of the couch o face you.

“I dunno, darlin’, why do you ask?” You bit your lip and smiled up at him, playing with the fingers of the hand he had settled on your thigh.

“Oh, well, you know how watching you nearly get stuck in your shirts really does it for me.” He groaned and slapped your leg lightly as you laughed.

“I think we’ve got time for whatever you want baby. Helicopter pilots can go straight up pretty fast you know.” He told you with a wink that you were sure was supposed to be alluring.

Oberyn Martell- The first thing you consciously noticed about Dorne was that it was hot. This was a kind of inescapable heat that permeated your entire body and made you feel like you were cooking from the inside out. You had never before given much thought to what it would feel like to be put into an oven and roasted alive, but without a doubt this is was that feeling. When you went back home to White Harbor you weren’t ever going to complain about the cold ever again.

The second thing you noticed when you put into port in Sunspear- a city quite a bit smaller than most of the cities of the upper six kingdoms the Manderlys sent your father to trade with- was that no one seemed to be wearing a lot of clothes. Which you supposed made sense because you were positively dying in yours.

You quickly changed into a pair of your brother’s breeches and a loose shirt before practically running off the ship and into the dusty warrens of the Shadow City below the walls of the Martell’s castle, eager to stretch your legs after weeks at sea and eat something other than hard tac and salted meat and fish. You figured you had at least a few hours before you would be expected to accompany your father to the castle to haggle about prices for wood and iron and silks and citrus.

The air only got hotter the further from the sea breeze you walked, and as you meandered the twisting and winding bazaars all you could smell were foreign spices and perfumes. Your head was on a swivel trying to take in the sights and sounds of a market radically different from any you had seen before when you walked into a silk covered shoulder. The shoulder belonged to a man nearly a foot taller than you and you wouldn’t have stood a chance at remaining on your feet if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and wrapped around your waist, dragging you back from your rather embarrassing descent to the dusty street and into a warm solid chest.

“I normally have to put in at least some effort in order to sweep someone off their feet, it must be my lucky day that you seem to have decided to do all the hard work for me,” an amused, accented voice said from above you. You felt every word from where your ear was plastered to the bare skin of his chest, his yellow and orange robes belted loosely enough to leave most of his golden skin exposed. You felt your face flush as you shuffled your feet, trying to get them back under you in a way that would allow you to stand and not fall on your face. The man set you back from him gently and you finally looked up

Your savior was beautiful. There wasn’t any other word to describe a face with deep set, smiling eyes that were so deep a brown you really had to look to distinguish his pupils. His nose was curved and prominent, his jaw covered with the same black hair that was cropped closer to his head than you were used to seeing in the North. And his lips were too pretty for a man. They spread into a smile as his eyes met yours, dimples appearing in his cheeks and you were smiling back before you realized it.

“Now,” he said, eyes still laughing. “You are either the worst pick pocket I’ve ever encountered or clearly too taken with the sights around you to be trusted to walk unescorted.” You hoped he never stopped speaking. His voice was deep and rich and at the same time soft and musical and no one in the woods and wilds where you had grown up spoke like he did.

“Uh, yes,” you stuttered and felt your ears burn as he smiled wider, eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hair. “I mean, no, I’m not a pick pocket! I just, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, my apologies.” You stuttered stepping further back from him, hoping maybe some more distance would restore your ability to not make an ass out of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. “Thanks for you know,” you featured vaguely at the ground.

“Oh, you’re very welcome for ‘you know’,” the man replied, somehow injecting a completely different meaning to your innocuous words than you had intended. Your face could have been used to light a campfire by now. You needed to get back and get changed before you did something truly stupid.

“Okay, well, um, sorry, again, for walking into you,” you said, backing away. “But uh, I’ve got to, uh, go...” You sort of waved and took off back the way you came, taking care not to run into any more handsome strangers.

You made it back to the ship in time for your father to lecture you about how dangerous it was to just run off in a “city full of wild Dornishmen! Don’t think that because you’re dressed like a man you’d be safe! That ‘sort of thing’ is common here, daughter!” while you dressed in clothes more suitable to both your station and a meeting with the ruling house of the kingdom.

It was somehow cooler within the sandstone walls of the castle, and you amused yourself on the walk up to the raised dais by listening to the different sounds your company’s boots made on the marble floor.

There was a woman sitting on a carved wooden seat and a tall dark haired man standing behind her, leaning indolently against her chair at the top of the steps you and your father stopped at. You listened to your father make the appropriate greetings, hoping that they could come to favorable terms of trade for items and goods they all wanted. And you felt someone staring at you. You looked up at the young woman in the chair as your father introduced you and you smiled and curtsied less gracefully than your mother would have liked. Your father turned his face to the man behind the chair and began to repeat the introduction when a familiar laughing voice interurrupted,

“Oh, I believe we’ve met already, haven’t we, little pick pocket?” Your eyes snapped up from the marble floor to lock onto those dancing brown eyes from earlier this morning. You felt your jaw drop and your face turn what you were sure was a very unattractive shade of crimson as Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne grinned and winked at you.

Din- You had been flying with the Mandalorian and his tiny green baby for about a month when you decided that hyperspace was boring and if you wanted any amusement you would have to take a page out of the little man’s book and make your own fun. You knew that stealing pieces of the ship and hiding them would not be as cute as when the baby did it, so that was out. You weren’t a tall person, but you were still bigger than the green terror so playing hide and seek was pretty close to useless. You were grasping at straws until suddenly it hit you like one of the utensils that the tiny monster liked to levitate around the cabin.

You were going to get Mando to laugh.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to accomplish this, or even any idea at all what a near silent warrior monk that you were still not a hundred percent convinced wasn’t a droid would find funny, so you decided to just do what you did best; you opened your mouth and let the word vomit out.

You didn’t shut up. If you were awake and not actively hunting someone, you were talking. The baby seemed to enjoy the new amount of noise and animation, but thus far you had only gotten a few sighs and what you thought were exasperated glares from your adult companion. At least, you figured they were glares. His helmet turned to face you and frankly, you were beginning to even get on your own nerves, so he was almost definitely glaring at you under that beskar.

This went on for four days straight until one day the three of you were sitting in the cockpit, watching the stars zip by, and you decided to narrate yourself drinking a glass of water. You had just gotten to the swallowing part and were attempting to put into words what that felt like when he turned around to face you.

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I will cut into into small enough pieces that the baby won’t notice it’s a human that he is eating for dinner tonight.”

You choked. And you definitely spat water all over the visor of his helmet.

You coughed and stared at him, terrified, not sure if these were going to be your last few seconds as a breathing creature, but sure that if they were you at least had the image of the Mandalorian with water and spit sliding down the front of his helmet to console you.

All three of you sat in silence for at least a minute before he leaned forward very slowly. You leaned as far back as your seat would allow.

“That was a joke,” he told you, voice warm despite the crackle of his modulator. “You can’t see it, but I just winked.”

Screw making him mad. You were going to kill the Mandalorian.

Tovar- This was officially one of the worst ways that you could think of to die. You sure that if you were given a few more minutes, and a few less spears pointed in your face to distract you, you could surely come up with at least five different ways that were, in fact, worse, but right now, this seemed pretty awful and didn’t seem likely to get any better.

“I need you to trust me,” your companion murmured in your ear, his hand on your wrist, stopping you from drawing one of your long knives. You cut your eyes quickly to his normally laughing brown eyes and then back to the soldiers in front of you.

“That never works out well for me, Tovar,” you remind him in a quiet hiss. He moves his arm from his side to around your shoulders and draws you close and tight against his much taller body.

“Good day, gentlemen!” He calls jovially to the five armored men blocking their way on the road. You can hear the wide grin that must be plastered on his stupidly handsome face and you send up a fast prayer to God that he doesn’t manage to get you into worse trouble than you were in already. Or that at least William can manage to get you out of it again.

“Halt,” the spear man in the middle orders, and Tovar stops walking, forcing you to as well, still tucked into his side. His left hand strokes your arm casually (you note its not his preferred sword hand which gives you some hope that he might actually have a plan), and he leans a bit more of his weight on you than you think is really called for. Is he pretending-

“Why whatever are you fine men doing in the middle of the road? Don’t you know there’s a war on! Shouldn’t you be off fighting that fierce some mercenary army?” You want to stab him. His entire left side is open and unguarded mere inches away from your favorite knife, you could slide the blade in right there between his ribs, you could have the pleasure of puncturing his lung and watching him slowly suffocate. Maybe he would finally stop talking.

“No one is allowed past this point,” the spear man informed you, still glaring. “Who are you and what is your business here?” The other four soldiers inched closer and you stiffen.

“Don’t,” Tovar ordered you through his clenched teeth, smile still in place. “I can get us out of this, I just need you to play along.”

“If we get out of this I am going to personally castrate you,” you inform him, a clenched tooth smile of your own on your face.

“Anything to get your hands on my cock, eh?” You elbowed him in that unprotected side you had been eyeing before he tried to bargain with the guardians of the road.

“Oh but surely sir, you wouldn’t hinder a poor man trying to get home to his farm?”The soldier looked extremely skeptical.

“If you’re a farmer, I’m the King of England.” Tovar shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m not a farmer. This rather attractive filly is, however, only paid for for another hour, and I had meant to have my way with her at least twice before my time was up. Surely you can understand my need to make all haste now?”

Nope, not castration. Castration and then you were going to make him watch as you fed his balls to goats.

“Don’t bite me please,” was all the warning you received before Tovar looked down at you, winked, and kissed you, lips surprisingly soft, and incredibly distracting. Maybe the castration could wait for a few hours.

Max Phillips- When the higher ups bring in a handsome new manager to boost sales and productivity you aren’t entirely surprised that every employee gets called one by one into his office for a “chat”. He’s new, it tracks that he’d want to get to know everybody.

You are both anticipating and dreading your own 2:30 appointment with the new boss man, you’re positive that out of all your coworkers your performance has been the most consistently decent since you were hired two years ago, but who knows. This was a new unknown element. His goal might be to shake things up to keep people on their toes.

You hear a ‘come in’ after you knock firmly on his closed door three minutes earlier than your scheduled time, and you find him working at his computer, jacket off, a pout on his lips that were frankly too pretty to be on such a distinctively masculine face, and his shirt sleeves artfully rolled up.

He doesn’t glance at you as he waves at a chair in front of his desk. You sit as instructed, and try as you might, are unable to help staring at him as he finishes whatever it is that requires such attention. You take in the tiny tattoo on his left hand with a little surprise. And you try very hard to ignore the shift and play of the muscles of his forearms under his lightly tanned skin. This is your new boss get a grip, you scold yourself, tearing your gaze away to rest on the shelves behind his head.

He sits back with a sigh and his palms hit his desk.

“I am sorry about that. I honestly hate computers, they’re just so impersonal, don’t you think?” He asks with a winning smile, eyes and attention totally on you now. You return his grin with a small, polite twitch of your own lips and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get to know everybody here, you know? Know the real person behind your employee file! Find out what makes you tick, what gets you excited!” You’re only half paying attention to his spiel, but he garners your full and complete concentration when as he utters the word “excited” and he grins salaciously and winks at you.

You’re a little taken aback. You know you should call HR. At the very least that was thoughtless and at the worst, utterly inappropriate.

You are unfortunately intrigued. You know you won’t be calling anyone about this.

Maxwell Lord- You’d been working for Lord Enterprises for about a year before you were moved up to the top floor. You liked to think you were good at your job, you were a quick typist and resourceful, and you were excited about the bump in pay that accompanied your new position.

After a week of following one of the other girls around and learning the ins and out of the executive offices, you were turned loose and given your own duties and assignments. The very first of those were to take a pile of files from the desk of the most senior of the secretaries and make sure it ended up in the possession of Maxwell Lord himself. You hadn’t heard much about the the big boss one way or another, so you squared your shoulders and after knocking firmly, opened the door and entered his office.

Lord was seated behind a dark wood desk that you thought was probably a bit bigger than strictly necessary. He was in his shirt sleeves, waistcoat stretched over a bit of middle aged spread that he nonetheless wore well. His hair was thick, blond, and immaculately styled, and he was talking animatedly on the phone, gesturing with his free hand and you could see his body vibrating slightly as he bounced his leg up and down quickly.

He was a handsome man, and a lot younger than you had expected him to be. And when he looked up at you as you walked further into his office and smiled brightly at you his attractiveness only increased. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and they shone when two dimples appeared in his cheeks with his grin.

You held up the stack of folders in your hand and raised your eyebrows in a question. He gestured to the desk in front of him and you moved closer to set them gently down in front of the man. You observed him check you out from your hair down to you shoes as you walked closer and were a little surprised when no chauvinistic comment popped out of his mouth. This might have been the 80’s, but you were a secretary and knew that women’s rights only meant that you could earn your own paycheck now.

You nodded at him as you set them down and he mouthed ‘thank you’ as he continued to listen to the droning voice you could now hear over the telephone.

And then he winked at you.

Maybe this job would turn up some opportunities for you after all.

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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Together, We Can Make Heaven a Place on Earth (Sriracha, Part 15.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Well, after you left Hawkins, you finally realized what Aiden meant with what he said. And that it still wasn't too late to turn everything around.

A/N: You thought that I would let it end like that?! Ha! We have more traumatic events to go through!

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @creedslove

Master list: H E R E

You were indeed leaving Hawkins behind, but you needed to stop at a gas station half an hour away from Bloomington. You still had Hoppers shirt on, you were still sobbing and shaking like a little bitch. You stood there and watched as the pumped filled the tank with gasoline, playing with your lower lip.

Aiden's words of wisdom were circling through your mind over and over again. Just as he predicted, you were suffering at that point. You were hyped for the college, somewhere deep inside, but leaving Hopper behind was overshadowing all of it. You couldn't think about anything but him waving at you as you left him, standing there only in his sweats.

Should you turn around and drive back to Hawkins, letting the scholarship go? Wouldn't that be a horrendous mistake? A madness to say the least? Or was madness leaving Hopper all alone? What of those options was worse? Your future was depending on both of them.

Did you wanted to be loved and cared for or did you want to go to the college you dreamed about? There was a possibility of you finishing the degree in Hawkins, still being a psychologist, but there wasn't anything sure about Hopper if you'd really decided to go to Indianapolis. He could tell you one thing but think the other once you'd come back.

You almost didn't notice that your tank is full, but when you did, you immediately pulled the pump out. You paid for the gasoline and looked at your new dean's card in your purse, half-tugged out of it. That was it. You decided that you're turning back.

In the next minute, you were ringing on the number which was written on the card, biting your lip. Suddenly, you got the meaning of all the rushed, weird decisions portrayed in the movies you would never personally do. Now, you were doing one.

"Mrs. Grey, dean of the psychology department of Indianapolis University on the phone. What can I help you with?" - The lady on the other side asked with a pleasant tone. You knew Mrs. Grey - she was the one who gave you the scholarship in the first place. She decided to take you under her wings.

"Y/N Y/L/N here on the phone... I was supposed to start the semester tomorrow..." - You answered back, unsure of what to tell her. She sighed and looked at some paper.

"The young lady from Hawkins university, am I right? You had great results in the test, I remember. What is it, miss Y/L/N?" - She asked worriedly and you took a long breath in, closing your eyes, letting yourself say the sentence what was on your mind.

"I won't make it to Indianapolis. I'm afraid I might've changed my plans." - You told her with hesitation. Jesus, you didn't know if you're were making the right decision, but you were praying to God. Maybe it will bite your ass, but you needed to give Hopper a chance. You allowed yourself to have hope.

"Miss Y/L/N... You may not realize that this scholarship is very prestigious and it took me weeks to make the other members of the commission to give it to you. Are you sure that you won't make it? Don't throw away your future for... A boy or someone like that." - She warned you with a disappointment in her voice.

"I'm sorry. I still won't make it." - You told her and put the phone back, running to your car. Whatever she would tell you wouldn't change your mind once you told yourself what you're going to do. It was crazy, borderline insane, but after an hour, you were stopping at Hopper's trail again. Your heart was pounding rapidly when you sat in your car, listening to Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now playing on repeat.

Hopper just finished dressing up, he was about to go fishing. When he heard a car on his driveway, he was confused and curious. Who could've it be? He hadn't got a visit except you in a long, long time. He was sure that basically no-one in Hawkins doesn't know where he lives. Who could it be?

We walked to the door, readjusting his shirt, coughing before opening up the door. He cried. He really cried once he was sure you're gone and you're not coming back until Halloween. And you seemed to be sure of that as well. Until he saw you standing in the open door of your car, nervously watching him.

What if he says that you should go? After you already canceled the scholarship? What if he doesn't the same thing as you want? Maybe he doesn't want you in his life in this sense. You really didn't think that through, did you?

Hopper walked to you at a fast pace, having horror in his face as you started to cry. He smoothed your face, your shoulders, searched your whole body just to see if you're hurt or making out what's wrong with you.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?" - He asked worriedly and hugged you, bringing you so close that you couldn't breathe. You hugged him back, crying again. Which almost made him cry again. - "Are you goin' to talk to me or not? Did somethin' happen on your way? Do you need help?"

At that moment, you looked him in the face, palming it while bringing his forehead to yours. You shook your head and gulped frantically, crying like a little girl.

"I don't want to leave." - You started, still holding his face close to yours. - "Please, don't make me leave. Don't let me go. Tell me that I have to stay here."

"Are you sure about that, Y/N? I mean, that university was somethin' you've dreamt about. Do you want to let..." - He started to reason with you, but you gripped him tightly and looked him right in the face.

"Hopper, just say what I need to hear and I won't leave Hawkins. Not without you." - Your voice pleaded once again, while you looked him in the eyes.

What were you saying? What on Earth were you offering to him? You couldn't be serious about throwing such a good chance out of the window. Not for a man and definitely not for a man like him. He was fucked up and everyone in Hawkins knew that, even those who have never seen him in person.

But he also needed you there. From the deepest end of his selfish persona, he needed to say that he needed you in Hawkins, close enough on the reach of an arm. And that was a horrifying realization for someone like Hopper, especially after all the shit he's been through, like Vietnam and New York. And you still did know only small bits about him.

Yet, there you both were, standing on the last summer day and you asked him to practically tell you that you have to stay because he wants you to stay there. Close to him.

“I don't want you to go to Indianapolis.” - Jim mumbled after a short while. He saw you close your eyes, a big smile started to appear on your lips. You slowly stopped crying. - “Because I would probably get totally lost again. You have to stay here.” - The man mumbled, hugging your shirt even tighter, bringing your pelvis close.

“I might've already canceled the scholarship?” - You whispered after a long while, biting your lips nervously. Hopper's eyebrows shot right up as he straightened up and looked down on you. He put his hands on his hips, looking down on you.

“What do you mean by already canceling your scholarship?” - Hopper asked with a furrow. You put one of your palms on the top of your car, scratching the back of your neck.

“That means that if I would show up at my parents', I'm dead.” - You took a good look at the boxes put on the backseats. You had basically everything you needed and you only hoped that Hopper makes out the same thing as you did.

“So, you not only canceled the scholarship, but you canceled it and haven't told anyone.” - Hopper leaned his ass into your car, listening to Starship still playing quietly. He obviously couldn't believe how dumb that was, but he would never call you stupid. Yet, what you have done was extremely stupid. He wouldn't let you sleep somewhere in the wilderness, that was for sure, but you put him in a rather uncomfortable position. He needed you by his side, but living together?

You did practically lived at his place, yeah, but full-time living? Real-life living like normal adult couples did? All of it was rushed, irrational, Jim hadn't got the best feeling about it and it came his way without him wanting any of that. He wasn't planning on leaving you alone, though.

“Basically. I can go back to my parents' when it settles all down, but I know that it will take a while once I'll call them.” - You leaned into the car next to him, being careful with touching him. - “I can call Julia or Steve Harrington if the shit goes down. I can take care of myself, Jim. It's alright.”

“You're not takin' care of yourself. Open up the door, we need to get it movin' if you want to be moved in before the night comes.” - Hopper slapped your bum gently to get you moving from the door, opening it up.

“Jim, I just needed to know that you want to continue with seeing me. I don't want you to let me live here or anything.” - You caught his shoulder, watching him taking out the first box, pressing it firmly on his chest.

“As your man, I'm going' to care of you, alrite? It's an inconvenience, but I'm not leavin' you behind. Will you give me a hand or what?” - Hopper rose his eyebrows even higher, carrying the box inside his trail. You took another one out, watching your step.

“Did you just self-proclaimed yourself to be my... Boyfriend?” - You stopped once you put the box down, holding him in one place. Hopper let a long breath out before nodding.

“Should I call you my roommate? You can pretend you are in Indianapolis.” - He muttered out with irony, walking to pick another box from the back seat. - “Did you really planned to ask Steve Harrington or did I overhear myself?” - Hopper stopped all of a sudden, turning at you, both of you having the box pressed on your chests.

“Yeah, he would definitely let me stay, we know each other for ten years. And he wouldn't try to disrupt me with fucking.” - You answered honestly, rising your eyebrows up. - “Wait a minute, Hopper...” - You walked next to him, laughing and carrying the box inside the trail.

“You're jealous. Oh my God, you're really jealous.” - You opened up your mouth, watching him putting the box down. Clearly, it was making you laugh.

Jim Hopper, indeed, was jealous. An image of you living every day next to Steve Harrington was ridiculous and bringing him to madness at the same time. Young Harrington had one undeniable quality which Hopper hadn't - that boy was young. And Hopper couldn't compete in this discipline. He was a forty-one-years-old fella.

But nonetheless, you approached him, circling your arms around Hopper's hips, smiling into his face before biting on your lower lip and palming his face.

“My man is jealous, look at that. You're adorable, Jim, but Steve's not you. I swear on God, he's not you. In whose house am I standing now, big guy?” - You asked and rose both your eyebrows. Hopper's face was certainly unsure but heavily amused. - “Exactly. Shut your mouth, help me with moving in and maybe... I will show you what you got and Steve doesn't, hm?” - You brought his lips for a short kiss before slapping his butt and leaving for another box.

Later that day, while you let Hopper move in your clothes and books, you lit up another cigarette and watched the phone for a while before dialing the number to your house. And you knew that the shit is going to get down.

“Mrs. Y/L/N at the phone, what can I help you with?” - She asked from the other side and with fear in your face, you looked at Hopper. Immediately, he stood behind you and caressed your shoulders, trying to keep you calm.

“Hey, mom, it's... It's me.” - You greeted her quietly, catching Hopper's fingers in your palm, leaning into his body. She immediately started asking about the big city, campus, your feelings, everything. You almost didn't stop her monologue when it just flew out of your mouth. - “I didn't go to Indianapolis. I... Won't start the semester there, I'll study local Hawkins college.”

“You're what? You're still in Hawkins? Are you kidding me?” - She asked back and yes, she was getting angry. - “I always thought you're a smart girl, I thought you know what you're doing and what is good and what is bad. And this is certainly bad. What were you even thinking, Y/N? When you'll be home?”

“I'm an adult, mom. I'm in Hawkins, I'm safe, I'm staying at my... Boyfriend's, and I know what's best for me. I'll visit you once you calm down, okay? I love you.” - You asked and heard her rambling, so you put the phone down. You exhaled out loud, letting Jim's forearms circle around your shoulder as he hugged you from the back.

You disappointed a few people when you made your decision to stay in Hawkins, that was right. But you made one lonely man happy and one brother extremely proud.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #stranger things hopper #hopper imagine #james jim hopper #hey ho #let's go

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 24 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hello darlings! Thank you for reading this story, we are so grateful. Please let us know what you think if you feel so inclined. Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: NY Fashion Week ended, and the team moved on to London.

This Chapter: London Fashion Week brings friends together, both there and back home in New York, where Adore continues to pine over Pearl and both Violet and Sutan fret about being forgotten.

***

Violet knocked on the door to Katya and Trixie’s apartment, waiting for a response. She’d just gotten home from work, and even though she was tired, she needed to keep her promise to Trixie to check on Katya.

“Katya?”

Violet knocked again, and felt stupid. She reached into her pocket, careful not to let the cartons of Chinese food she was carrying tip over, and fished out her phone.

Violet’s fingers hovered over the keys, not sure what she should write, or even who she should write to. She felt like she had to tell Trixie that she had come by, but that Katya wasn’t home, but she didn’t know if two knocks was enough of an effort between friends - if she was doing what she was supposed to.

Violet bit her lip, and she was just about to give up, to just put the food by the door, send Katya a text and ignore her responsibility to Trixie, when the blonde in question came bouncing up the stairs.

“Violet!” Katya smiled brightly. She was wearing a berry pink windbreaker and a neon green skirt, her hair half up in a blue scrunchie, a small set of what looked like doll hands dangling from her ears.

“Katya, hi!” Violet quickly put her phone in her handbag, the bag of take-out dangling awkwardly from her wrist. “I was wondering if, I, umh, if you wanted-”

“Trixie asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?” Katya asked, unlocking the door to the apartment and beckoning for Violet to follow her inside.

“No! I just wanted to… to, to-” Violet was pretty sure she had to deny, that it was friend code to keep secrets like this, but as she shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, unable to come up with anything, she knew she couldn’t keep up the charade. “He did. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Katya smiled, waving her hand. “You can tell him I’m fine.” Katya grabbed the food, putting both that and her bags down on the counter and turned back to Violet, another big smile on her face, perfect teeth shining.

“That’s great. I-” Violet stopped, actually looking at Katya. The blonde’s smile wavered slightly, hardly detectable, but her blue eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. Had she been crying? “Katya...are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah!” Katya’s lip trembled, voice breaking slightly, and Violet was sure she was about to cry.

Normally, Violet felt uncomfortable around any and all displays of emotion, unsure what to do, uncertain about what the correct response was if she didn’t know the person intimately, but there was something about Katya that made that worry disappear completely.

Katya was so kind, always taking care of everyone around her: Trixie, Pearl, the neighbors, her students and even Violet herself.

“I don’t want to presume, but, if you’re not okay-” Violet waited a beat, lowering her voice slightly, “I hope you know that that’s okay.”

“I’m okay, it’s just-” Katya walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch, a deep sigh leaving her, Violet right behind her. “It’s been pretty rough.”

“Is it because-” Violet swifted, the situation oddly intimate. “Because Trixie is gone?”

“Trixie’s gone, Pearl’s gone, Max is gone, Shangie’s at her girlfriend’s place, Kim’s working late all week before she goes out of town, too…” Katya sniffled, wiping her eyes, and Violet felt a surge of worry, her hand reaching out and touching Katya’s knee, the blond knitting their fingers together. “Sorry.”

“You can talk.”

“I know it’s just a few weeks, and I’m being a huge baby,” Katya rolled her eyes, wiping at them again, and Violet reached into her bag, pulling a handkerchief out.

“Thanks-” Katya took it, dabbing her eyes. “I just had an extra session with my therapist, and I should be okay, I’ve been sober for forever, but, shit.” Katya snorted. “It’s hard.”

“Do you maybe,” Violet swallowed, “Do you want to umh, watch a movie or something? Your pick.”

“That would be amazing.”

***

“Home sweet home!” Sutan groaned, flopping down on the couch, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the carpet.

“You don’t live here.” Karl smiled, bending down to pick them up so he could put them by the door.

“Sure mo-“ Sutan burped, holding his hand in front his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Tell me if you have to puke!”

“Mmh-”

Karl rolled his eyes, actually in the hall, when he heard a small groan coming from the living hey.

“You okay?”

“Fuck...”

Karl looked over, the other man’s phone in his hand, his brow furrowed.

“What?”

Sutan was adorably disheveled, his black suit jacket crumbled, the blue shirt twisted around his middle, his tie over his shoulder.

“She still hasn’t texted me back,” Sutan grumbled, running a quick hand over his face before he dumped his phone, reaching up to loosen his tie.

“Who hasn’t-”

They had met up earlier that night at what had turned out to be an outrageously boring, stuffy, industry party which they promptly ditched. They could have gone to another one, London overflowing with options during Fashion Week, but instead, they ended up at the pub, just the two of them, drinking beer and catching up.

“Got any beer?”

“Maybe. I’ll check the fridge,” Karl chuckled, walking towards the kitchen.

Now, hours later, Sutan had insisted on coming back to Karl’s apartment with him instead of his hotel, and apparently wanted to keep the party going.

Not that Karl minded in the least.

He loved spending time with Sutan--in fact, there’d been a time in his life when he would have dropped anything any time Sutan so much as glanced his way.

It had been the dumbest but most exhilarating years of his twenties, back when he had hung on Sutan’s every word, when he followed him everywhere like a loyal puppy, when he would have done anything and said everything to get his attention.

In the beginning, Karl had allowed himself to cling to the foolish hope that his friend would some day reciprocate his feelings, that Sutan would look at him and realize that he had all he needed had been by his side the entire time.

There had been a few kisses, here and there, but they had always happened during parties where heavy drinking and hard drugs were involved, and it was nothing they ever talked about sober.

Karl grabbed a bowl, filling it with chips before he got a couple of beers from the fridge, making his way back to his friend.

The sad fact of the matter was that Sutan, in spite of being incredibly chill and a little bit flexible, was actually depressingly straight.

Which was why Karl now lived in London.

He handed over a can of Pilsner, and slid down onto the couch beside Sutan.

“You’re the best-” Sutan smiled, leaning against his side, taking a sip from his can.

“So…” Karl bit his lip, Sutan smelling of sandalwood and man. “Who is she? Another socialite?“

“Who?”

“The girl you’re texting.”

“Ah.” Sutan looked up, his head resting on Karl’s shoulder. “No.”

Normally, Sutan didn’t mind sharing his conquests, the man an absolute idiot when it came to picking up clues, so he had never noticed how uncomfortable it made Karl, but this time, he was being uncharacteristically quiet about his new mystery woman, which made Karl even more suspicious.

“Is she a model?”

“No!” Sutan gasped, pulling back and sitting up. “Of course not!”

He actually looked offended, and Karl couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come on man,” Sutan clapped his knee, his palm warm. “Who do you think I am? It’s against The Rule.”

“Well,” Karl shrugged, “Rules were made to be broken,” he said with a mischievous grin. It was something everyone knew about Sutan, that he never ever ever dated models. Karl would never have guessed that it would have given his friend an edge, but models seemed to truly trust him, Sutan somehow managing a calm and kind friend of the family vibe that Karl simply couldn’t replicate, nevermind the fact that he was literally gay.

“She’s not a model.” Sutan settled back down, this time leaning against the armrest of the couch. “She’s…” Sutan sighed. “She’s ignoring me.”

Karl couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. Sutan looked genuinely distressed, and now that he thought about it, he had seen Sutan check his phone more than usual.

“Really?”

Did she not know what an amazing guy she had? Karl doubted it.

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday.”

“Hmm.” Karl pursed his lips. “Wonder why.” He had learned long ago, even before the disastrous engagement, never to actively insult or give his true opinion on the women in Sutan’s life until after they were well out of it.

Not that they ever stuck around for long, the demands of Sutan’s job, his friends and his family always too much for them.

“I just don’t understand.” Sutan whined, the man always a little over-dramatic while drunk. “I’m a catch, right? Karl, be honest.”

“You’re adequate.”

“Karrrl…” Sutan groaned, grabbing his elbow to shake it. Karl’s smile would have broken through had the buzzer not rang just that moment with their perfect, greasy, midnight fast food delivery.

“Food’s here!” Karl jumped up, slapping Sutan’s shoulder in the process.

***

“...and like, he’s just so nice. Did I tell you that he texts me every morning just to say good morning and every night to ask how my day went?”

“Yup, you did,” Adore said. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and she was sprawled on her bed with her guitar, plucking out random melodies, while Courtney waxed poetic about her perfect new boyfriend and how wonderful and attentive and funny he was.

Adore knew that she wasn’t intentionally rubbing it in, but it still stung. She’d slept with Pearl over a week ago, and hadn’t gotten so much as a single text, whereas Courtney had already been out with Willam twice and apparently texted every day.

“Well, anyway…” Courtney trailed off, climbing over to Adore. “I guess I’ve been rambling, huh?”

“A little,” Adore said, looking over at her with a rueful smile. “But it’s cool. He sounds great, and you deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Courtney said, curling up beside her. “The only weird thing is…We still haven’t…”

“Fucked?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“That’s not that weird,” Adore said. “You’ve been on what, two dates? He’s probably just used to girls who aren’t as...giving as you.”

Adore reached over to pat Courtney on the head.

“Ha ha. And yeah, that’s true. But we haven’t even...kissed, really.”

“You haven’t kissed?!” Adore asked.

“No, I mean, we’ve kissed. But we haven’t like...kissed, you know?”

“I love it when you talk in code,” Adore laughed.

“It’s just like...not real kisses. It’s like the kind of kisses I’d give my parents. Or my brother. Like this.” Courtney leaned forward to demonstrate, giving Adore a quick, dry peck on the lips.

“You kiss your brother on the mouth?!” Adore exclaimed, eyes wide with horror.

“You don’t kiss your siblings?”

“Not on the mouth!”

“So you’ve never kissed, um, Bianca, on the mouth?” Courtney asked, a bit of pink creeping into her cheeks.

“With the filthy places her mouth has been?! Hell fucking no.”

Courtney laughed, hugging a pillow to her chest, cheeks now blazing red. “Okay, well, I think we’re getting sidetracked. The point is...I like Willam. But I don’t know...”

“I guess. But, maybe he’s just shy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe…” Courtney sighed. “What about you?”

“What about me? I’m definitely not shy.”

“No, I mean, any new developments in your love life?” Courtney asked carefully, as if there would be anything she didn’t already know.

Adore could tell that as supportive as Courtney was, she was a bit reticent to get fully onboard the Pearl Liaison train. She’s been dropping little hints here and there about Pearl being a player--hints which Adore had ignored. It wasn’t that she didn’t know about Pearl’s reputation. It’s that she didn’t fucking care.

Pearl was amazing in bed, cool and funny, and incredibly sexy, and Adore was prepared to have her heart ripped out of her chest.

If only she could get a second date.

“Ugh, no.” Adore sat up, setting her guitar aside with a groan. “I’m a fucking disaster as usual. Pearl still hasn’t called.”

“Well...she is traveling right now. Maybe she’s just really busy,” Courtney said, and Adore smiled, appreciating her attempt, however small, to defend Adore’s ridiculous infatuation.

“Yeah, maybe. But Bianca calls me whenever she goes abroad, even when she goes somewhere stupid like Japan, or like… Siberia or something.”

“I’m pretty sure your sister has never been to Siberia,” Courtney laughed.

“You don’t know her.”

“True…” Courtney bit her lip, then added, “I kind of wish I did, though.”

Adore tilted her head, looking at her curiously. Of course, her sister was one of her favorite people on the planet, and had been for as far back as she could remember. So hearing that her bestie liked her probably shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She seems cool.” Courtney picked at the comforter.

“Well, of course she’s cool. She’s related to me,” Adore said, and Courtney grinned.

“Exactly!”

“Annnnd...she’s having this big birthday party next month. Some crazy-ass, fancy thing at the Guggenheim. You should come, be my date.”

“Oh, I don’t...I don’t know, Adore.”

“Why not?!”

“Well...won’t like, my bosses all be there? It’s a little weird.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Adore said. “But listen, it’ll be a huge crowd. And if you come, Bianca will give me so much less shit than usual, since she actually likes you.”

Courtney’s eyes widened. “She does? Did she say that?”

“No, but I would definitely know if she didn’t,” Adore assured her. “You know Laila? She hasn’t seen her for years, but she still calls her ‘that garbage-faced slut.’”

Courtney burst out laughing, asking cheekily, “Is she wrong?”

“Hey!” Adore hit Courtney in the face with a pillow, knocking her onto her back. “Be nice!”

***

Violet groaned, taking a step back from the window. She bit her lip, flipping through the pictures she had just taken of herself on her phone.

Sutan had asked what she was wearing in a text, and while Violet normally hated getting her picture taken, and never took selfies in any shape or form, she was doing her best to attempt just that.

If anyone else had asked, Violet would have shut it down instantly, but even though Sutan had sent along a winky face, the text didn’t read to her as something sexual, the message more a joke than a serious request to see her in her underwear--or even worse, naked.

Violet wanted to make Sutan happy, wanted to play along with his game, but as she looked at the photos, she cringed; she had no idea how models, influencers or even normal people made taking pictures seem so easy.

She sighed, getting back in position in front of the window, Max always telling her how important light was for a good photo. It felt wrong to be standing in Fame’s office, but she wasn’t touching anything, the background only a crisp white carpet.

Violet thought that it had been hard having an almost boyfriend during Fashion Week, but what she had not expected was how Sutan being abroad felt about a million times worse, the fact that he was now in Milan and not London not making it any better at all.

She wasn’t a texter by nature, the fact that Sutan had messaged her not even crossing her mind for the first 48 hours. They had talked on the phone, and texted back and forth, but it wasn’t the same and she missed him. She missed Sutan, longed to see his smile and hear his voice, a phone call or even Facetime not the same at all.

She missed feeling his hands on her body, his weight on top of hers.

Violet pulled her hair over her shoulder, twisted her shoulder, lifting her phone, ready to try again, when she spotted something in the corner of the screen.

Courtney was leaning against the doorframe, an infuriating smile on her face.

“Shit!” Violet jumped, dropping her phone before she whirled around. “I wasn’t-” Violet held up her hand, her stomach tight with embarrassment. “This, it’s, I- Don’t tell anyone. Please”

“As if,” Courtney's annoying grin deepened. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Vi.”

Violet almost opened her mouth to reprimand her, the other again acting way too familiar for Violet’s comfort, when she continued talking.

“It's not like you had your top off."

"What-” Violet could feel her cheeks heat up, her entire face going red. “I'd never-” Violet left Fame’s office, closing the door behind her. “Don’t say that.”

"Never?” Courtney giggled, skipping forward to perch on the edge of Violet's desk. “Why not?"

"That's not-” Violet wanted to say that it wasn’t any of Courtney’s business, that she should watch her attitude, but the other looked genuinely interested, like she actually cared about the why. “I don't have that kind of body."

“Please,” Courtney scoffed. "You have an amazing body, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not very-" Violet wasn’t sure if she wanted to say the word. She knew she wasn't hideous, that she could dress herself, that she was pretty if you were into her type, which Sutan thankfully was. "Very sexy."

Courtney looked genuinely confused, and Violet almost wanted to sigh.

Of course she didn’t understand her; Violet wasn’t sure why she thought, even for a second, that she would.

Everything about Courtney was dainty and feminine and all the things that a girl was supposed to be. From the way she walked to the way she dressed to the way she sat on the edge of Violet’s desk with her legs crossed coyly.

Everything about Courtney screamed that she was hot, fun, flirty, and knew it. She hadn’t even batted an eye when those suits drooled all over her in the cafeteria; she’d probably been told she was beautiful every day she’d been alive.

"Violet…” Courtney smiled, something that looked disgustingly like pity in her gaze. “I really hate to be the one to break this to you. I mean, someone probably should have already told you, like a long time ago, but…you're really hot." Courtney grinned playfully, twirling her hair. "Like, really really, really hot."

Violet almost snorted. She had been called pretty, beautiful, Sutan often telling her she was gorgeous or lovely, her style most often described as elegant and classy, but being called hot, and even really hot, was not something she’d experienced.

"Thanks." Violet bent down to pick up her phone. "I'll keep that in mind." Part of her wanted to forget the whole selfie business, to not even attempt it again, but Sutan deserved it, and she wanted to do something for him.

“Let me know if you change your mind about the topless thing. I have a lot of experience in that area,” Courtney said.

“What-” Violet’s head snapped up, horror all over her face. “Get off my desk!”

“Sorry.” Courtney slid down with a giggle.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #witney #adore x pearl #violet chachki #katya zamolodchikova #raja gemini #manila luzon #courtney act #adore delano #lesbian au #fashion au #fluff

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years

Text

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 10

Previous Chapters on AO3

Chapter Ten

Frank Randall senior finally looked up from his Saturday morning paper after ignoring the butler, tortuously bend forward, for the past five minutes. He took the mail from a silver plate and looked through it quickly. One letter was from California, St. Helena, which meant news of his deceased son or widow or their failed farm. His face pulled into a sneer involuntarily because he found the entire venture in very bad taste and destined to fail. He opened the letter quickly before his nosy wife asked who it was from. She was still quite unstable emotionally and any news of her poor son might send her back to bed for another three weeks. Frank senior opened the letter, read the short paragraph and quickly folded it back into the envelope and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Well, he thought, that is unexpected news.

“Sassenach, my dearest love, ye promised to meet with Ben and the men this morning to learn how to cut the vines.” He smiled at her face, so angelic, so buried in her hair. He pushed the hair away from her face and one eye opened then quickly closed.

“I beg to differ Jamie darling, I did not promise.” Her voice was groggy with sleep.

“Aye, that ye did, in front of the men, so ye must get up now and put yer riding clothes on.”

“You have to help me.”

“Just hearin ye say that makes me dangerous, so no, I canna.”

Claire pulled his hand under the covers making him launch off the bed. “Yer a wee vixen and I’ll no be seduced…until later.” With that, he grabbed her quilts and threw them off her naked body making her scream in protest and follow him around the room trying to get them back. Three laps around the room and she was awake glaring at him in a way he found adorable. “Don’t be late.”

Claire had not been awake at this time of the morning, ever. She made several attempts to stab her legs into her breeches and finally sat on the floor and slid them up. She tied her binding around her breast and missed one side completely, donning her shirt and boots she was finally ready. Her hair looked like it had not seen a comb in a month so she shoved it under her hat and walked to the stairs. She glared at the banister and decided she would sustain bodily injury, or fall asleep if she tried to slide down it so early. When the front door opened Jamie took three seconds to push her back into the house and fix her binding. While he worked on capturing the rogue breast, she fell asleep.

Ben had worked with Jamie, Rupert, and Angus the day before so they could take smaller groups of men into the vineyard and teach them how to cut the vines back. This annual task ranked in the top five in importance to the health of the grapevine. The men were focused and ready to learn. Claire was leaning against Jamie sound asleep. Ten men groups practiced cutting and hauling the vegetation away. By noon, even Claire had her first grapevine cut back like an expert. Jamie and two of the strongest Highlanders hauled the piles of vegetation to the back of the property to be burned, destroying the evidence of the healthy vines as soon as possible.

It was back-breaking work that continued for five days of cutting, and three weeks of burning the vegetation. Seventy percent of the vines are cut away leaving only the trunk and two arms for next year. Ben walked through the vineyard totally impressed with the commitment of Jamie’s men.

When this enormous task was completed, Jamie was tortured over which of the men he would keep on for the winter. He decided on ten men and would cut the others loose so they could make their way back to the city before the cold settled in. When he was stymied he would find his wife for a fun ride through the property. Sometimes Misses Crook packed them a lunch to eat by the lake and Jamie found great value in quiet moments to talk with Claire, plan their future, flirt, tease, and look for a private place to make love.

Rain would nourish the sleeping vines and drive everyone indoors for a day of rest, brawling, or exploring the flesh of the one you loved. Claire would take a quick bath on overcast mornings just in case the big black clouds decided to rip open and confine them to their rooms.

Claire loved the new swing so much Jamie built a slanted roof over it to shelter them from the rain. His clever design was removable in nice weather but during the winter rains, it was very handy and allowed them to stay outside. On one cold afternoon, they cuddled on the swing, bundled up in a blanket, and read their current book for hours. As the sun lost it’s fight against the storm clouds the day got too dark to read and Jamie pulled Claire down to lay next to him. They cuddled and kissed, giggled and pinched. When the heavy rain came Claire gripped his hair and panted into his ear, pressing her legs open as he laid his erection against her heat. She was doing her best to push his pants low enough to free his erection and he was watching the sky for a break in the rain to run to their rooms. Mother nature won and Jamie slid into her body with a grunt suggesting she keep as still as possible.

The water slid off the roof of the swing in a thick sheet and the lovers discovered a new level of eroticism when they forced themselves to hold very still and not make the obvious body movements that would reveal their secret. Jamie held Claire’s hips still and inched in and out of her pulling lusty moans from deep in her chest. He used his mouth on hers to seduce and then fuel the arousal that lasted all afternoon. The sunset left them in pitch dark and they were finally free to chase their release with complete abandon.

The weeks passed and Jamie tortured over releasing the men. He walked to the cabins and rang the bell pulling every man to attention around him. He looked from one face to the other and cleared his throat.

“I ask yer forgiveness for taking so long to let ye go for the winter. I hope yer able to find some work this late in the year. Personally, I hate to see ye go. Yer my brothers and it just feels like ye belong here. So, those of ye that can stay on without pay are welcome. We will feed ye and give ye a place to live but we can’t do much more than that. The holidays are comin and some of ye need to send money home to yer families. I will write ye a letter of introduction to take with ye, and hope we see ye next year for the crush. Ye will all be missed.

Jamie pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and told the men to call out their names if they were leavin. He anticipated writing letters the rest of the day and waited for the names. With his led poised above the paper the minutes passed and he finally lifted his eyes to look at the men. No one called out and after five minutes Jamie put the paperback in his pocket.

“Well, all right then. I’ve heard this land has deer and turkeys. Thanksgivin is next week and a passel of ladies will want to dance if we have a full table. Let us endeavor to impress them.”

The men erupted in laughter and joking, slapping Jamie on the back and shoulder as they moved out to scout the local fauna before starting the hunt. Rupert jogged toward the road to catch up with his friends when Claire called to him. She handed him a list of items to get in town and dazzled him with her smile. Ordinarily, Rupert would pull a sour mood to miss the scouting, but he would do anything for Claire, gladly.

Jamie was in a jovial mood now that the men were settled and staying. With little else to do, he grabbed Claire and pulled her, protesting, to the lake. She would learn to fish today, like it or not. It was part of his campaign to plug his wife into the everyday heartbeat of the property. Something she would never know staying in her rooms all day. Jamie set up two long narrow branches with string, hooks, and bait, cast the bait far out into the water and propped the branch up on a rock. Then he laid on his back and fell asleep. Claire was not happy being left alone with no one to talk to. She opened her book and saw one branch move a bit. Starting to read the branch jerked violently and she lunged for it before it was dragged into the lake by a fish on the hook.

“Oh! Oh! Jamie, you must get up and take this pole. Oh my God!” She did an impressive body dive toward the second pole that was bouncing violently. “Jesus, Jamie, what do I do! There are fish on the poles and they are monsters!” With a pole in each hand, she did her best to hang on as the fish fought for their lives and Claire made many noises that had never been uttered or heard in the history of mankind. One fish came jumping out of the water like it was trying to attack her and Jamie could no longer keep quiet. She dropped the pole and fish on Jamie and ran away dragging the second fish out of the water and bouncing behind her. She was scared shitless running away from the fish that chased her because she would not let go of the second pole. Jamie laughed so hard he fell in the sand trying to stop.

Jamie knew exactly where Claire was because she never stopped screaming. She came bursting out of the brush looking behind her at the bouncing fish with the pole gripped tightly in her hand and was successfully tackled by her laughing husband who pried her fingers from the pole and proclaimed her to be a master fisherman. The poor bouncing fish was rather torn up but added to the day’s catch anyway.

“Sassenach, do ye want to watch the poles?”

“I would rather not.”

“Alright, take this knife and the fish into the bushes and slide the knife straight down the line under the belly. Reach into the body and wrap yer fingers around the guts, pull straight down and then check the insides for any pieces that broke off.”

Claire launched at Jamie and almost threw the knife at him, then plopped down between the two poles and stared straight ahead across the water. By the end of the afternoon, they had twelve good sized fish to add to the dinner table. When the house was in view Claire ran straight through the front door and into the bathing room for a bath.

“Oh! Yer clothes smell worse than the dirtiest man I’ve ever met. What am I to do with them. Burn them, aye?”

“No Misses Crook, that is my only riding outfit. Just wash them twice and pray.”

Jamie and Misses Crook waited as long as possible for Claire to get out of the bathtub. Jamie finally cleared his plate before bringing her's to the bathroom.

He held fresh fried fish to her mouth and told her how brave she was. She swallowed the food and smiled as she ran the soap over her skin once more. Forkfuls of carrots, beans, fish, and cornbread were happily chewed as she washed. Jamie held her fingers up and declared her done wrapping a towel around her before Misses Crook came down with her robe. Jamie picked her up and carried her to their bed where he read to her until she chased her dreams.

Jamie was very pleased with his project to get Claire outside and active in the farm. When the image of her screaming while being chased by a bouncing fish came to mind he shook with laughter until he got out of bed to avoid waking her.

Rupert was back in town the next day to finish Claire’s shopping. He stopped for his annual haircut before the holidays and heard the scuttlebutt about the fancy lawyer that rode into town that day. Rupert listened with half an ear because he was looking for any of the lasses that came for their Fiesta. The barber slapped his shoulder to get his attention and pointed out the window as the dandy walked by.

Rupert looked at the man three times and rubbed his eyes before looking again. As he paid the barber he let out a loud NED! The newcomer stopped in his tracks and turned around, a smile breaking across his face when he saw Rupert.

“Well, what good fortune and quite a surprise to see a Highlander in this part of the world. What on earth has brought ye this far Rupert?”

The two men were clearly happy to see each other and talked for twenty minutes before Ned dropped his head and lowered his voice.

“The tenants of Lallybroch asked me to find any news of James Fraser. He came out west to find gold about three years ago and was never heard from again. I expect he ran into trouble and hope to give his sister the news of his fate if I can. Have ye heard anything about Jamie?”

“He’s no dead, if that’s what ye mean.”

The older man’s eyes grew large and he leaned into Rupert. “What have ye heard man?”

“Come see fer yerself Ned. I’ll be bringin the shopping back for his wife and he’s never too far from her.”

Ned’s smile was big and he beckoned Rupert to lead on. They talked animatedly on the way back to the vineyard. As they walked into the yard Ned pulled a paper from his pocket. It was a hand-sketched map with a large X on the property he now stood on. He wiped his brow as the front door opened and Claire ran out to relieve Rupert’s burden. She was introduced and curtsied bringing a fine blush to Ned’s face.

“How exciting, you know Jamie! He will be thrilled! Please come in Mister Gowan.” She spun in a swirl of skirts and led the men into the house.

Ned looked at Rupert with a bit of shock on his face, “she’s British.”

Rupert left Ned with Claire and went back to his chores while Claire pulled Ned into the dining room asking Misses Crook for a cool drink for all. She heard Jamie stamp his feet as he always does when he comes in from the barn. Claire disappeared to announce their company and she was back in her seat smiling in less than a minute.

Ned heard boot steps coming closer and felt his heart rate shoot up. Could that be Jamie, he wondered. It was his single wish in life. To see Jamie safe and fulfill his promise to his best friend, Brian Fraser. He watched the door as Jamie’s large frame filled it and piercing blue eyes looked at the second most admired man in Jamie’s life. He approached silently and held out his hand as Ned stood. They spoke volumes with their gaze and Jamie broke into a huge smile and hugged Ned right off of his feet.

Ned dropped into his chair laughing, red-faced, and shaky from finding Jamie alive. Jamie took a chair at the table and a conversation that would change all of their lives commenced.

Ned described his law practice in San Francisco, leaving out his reason for coming to America was to find Jamie. He also left out the reason for his visit to St. Helena and the client who sent him there. Little was said about how Jamie came to marry Claire or how they came to possess the vineyard and fine house.

Dinner was served as the conversation went on until both men felt completely caught up with the other. Misses Crook blushed a lot behind her napkin and did her best to serve and clear dishes with shaking hands. She knew she was in the presence of a great man and fancied his looks from the first minute. When there was a lull in the conversation Misses Crook blurted out that a rooster had gotten their chickens and now they had twenty layers to feed the men. Claire’s head shot sideways at her and she saw the flushed cheeks on the older woman. Okay, she thought, this just got interesting.

Jamie took Ned on a tour of the vineyard and those who knew Ned were able to exchange hello’s. Coming back toward the house Ned spotted the swing and asked if he could sit a minute and talk. What came next almost made Jamie vomit.

“Did Claire come to California with a man named Frank Randall? I believe he died in the first year, is that right? How did you come to marry her?”

Jamie knew their worst fear had come true and he struggled to breathe before he had a heart attack. He gave Ned the quick version of their marriage and life. He explained what a horrible man Frank was and how he left her destitute after spending her dowry on this land and vines.

“Why exactly are ye here Ned?”

“I’ve been hired by Frank Randall senior to investigate the value of this land and crop. Seems he was notified by a banker in town that there was a good harvest this year. This banker was a personal friend of Frank junior.”

“I can just imagine. Do ye have a name?”

“The damage is done, Jamie. Don’t complicate your life and Claire’s with a jail sentence. Leave the banker be and start making a plan. My loyalty is with you Jamie, as always. Whatever you tell me will not be shared and I will hold Randall off or shut his interest down completely. Tell me everything and we will figure it out.”

Jamie, Ned, and Claire talked into the night. Mostly answering the hundreds of questions Ned asked from Claire’s family and marriage to the value of the harvest and every detail in between. Claire caught Jamie staring at her and she nodded to him, knowing he wanted to tell Ned about the coming harvest.

“Ah, Ned, there’s somethin else about this vineyard I have to tell ye.” He described the blight ravaging the region and the immunity of their vines. Ned’s eyes got so wide that Claire giggled, breaking the tension so Ned could compose himself.

“Th..that is starkable, remarking, oh!… it is stunningly remarkable!”

They all laughed or tried to, and Jamie decided Ned was probably ready to pop from so much information. Jamie got Ned settled in a guest bedroom and they spoke quietly for a few minutes.

“The banker is an example of a loose end. Do the men know?”

“Aye, we had to tell them when the vines were bein stolen. They knew there was a secret reason I wanted them to defend the vines with their life. So, what is your gut tellin ye, Ned?”

Ned smiled at the reference to Brian and his favorite saying. “It’s time to move, of course.”

Jamie looked at Ned like he lost his mind.

“You need to scout the area and find a piece of property for sale, better than this one, or bigger, hell I don’t know. A property that won’t break yer heart to move onto.”

“Leave my vines? No.”

“We’re taking them with us, Jamie boy.”

Claire opened her eyes for a short second before slamming them shut. It was not nearly light enough in their room to suggest a decent time to rise. Turning on her side she burrowed under the blankets and went to war with her eyelids that would not stay closed. She felt her gut in turmoil, something invisible shaking her awake, a tapping shoe close buy.

“Jesus! Okay, I’m up.” As Claire looked around, seeing no one, she recalled the meeting the night before and the source of her anxiety was revealed. She jumped out of bed and ran for her riding clothes. London knew their secret, sent a lawyer to gather facts, they would send another if Ned failed them. They were coming.

Claire flew down the stairs looking for Jamie and jumped out of her skin when he came up behind her.

“I was comin to get ye, lass. We have work to do.”

The horses were tacked up and ready for a brisk morning ride, the first in their search for a new property. Jamie told her just enough so she would know what to look for. They rode all morning taking notes on properties they liked. Jamie had read Frank’s journals so many times it seemed like Frank himself was behind him telling him what to look for.

They insisted Ned stay with them and he began the first draft of the report to London. Each day Jamie and Claire went out scouting for land. There was so much of it they could not tell where boundaries were and made little progress. Hiring a real estate agent would tip their hand so they continued searching with the precious time they had left.

“Eat ye porridge and shut ye pie hole. Obviously, somethin has happened and the boss and lady are not themselves. They will tell us when the time is right and it's not yet so I propose we organize into a night watch. I want to know who might be watchin us, or the vines, and why. After my morning piss, I’ll be in front of my cabin. Those interested, meet me there.” Rupert walked away toward the outhouse. When he came around the corner of his cabin twenty minutes later he almost fell over the men in front of his cabin. It looked like the whole group just got up, walked ten paces, and sat down again. Rupert smiled and blushed with pride in the men.“Who has some ideas for the task before us?”

Jamie struggled to keep Donus facing the land he studied. Brimstone loped up on them and kissed her boyfriend hello.

“These lovebirds are a bit sickening, don’t you agree Jamie darling. Five minutes apart and they have to make out.”

Jamie looked at his bride and smiled knowingly, making Claire giggle.

“Look at that Sassenach. It has all levels for what we grow and the land is plowed, level, terraced and staked. What on earth could be better? It seems bigger than our property.”

“Jamie it’s all dead. Every vine as far as the eye can see, dead.”

Jamie made his thinking noise and Claire knew he was deep in his head. She decided to investigate the property knowing Donus would follow and carry a thinking Jamie with him. They loped along the edge of the property for twenty minutes before they found the outbuildings. Every vine they passed was dead. They dismounted and tied the horses up to smooch in private. Jamie called out a loud hello a few times, not wanting to be shot on the porch. He noticed the stone construction of the house and the European style. The outbuildings were also stone construction. “Big money built this place so where did everyone go?”

Several loud knocks brought not a soul to the door and Jamie turned the knob allowing it to open. He motioned for Claire to stay behind the stone wall and wait for his signal. Five minutes later he popped around the door jam and pulled her inside, kissing her breathless. When he broke the kiss Claire let her eyes fill with the abandoned structure. Someone had put a lot of effort into the interior design, there was a male influence as well as female. She imaged it without the layer of dust and garbage and found it stimulating, making her want to dance.

“If yer this captivated by the front entry ye better not go upstairs just yet Sassenach. My guess is someone created a fine estate, European, old money. The crops failed and they lost everything leaving a worthless property behind to sail back in defeat. Poor buggers.”

“Sassenach, we should go. Sassenach?” Jamie walked quickly through the first floor and then took the stairs two at a time. He spotted her in the corner of a bright room with a crib and rocking chair. She held a stuffed bear, left behind with the other toys that were piled in the corner. She had a dreamy look on her face as she hugged the bear to her.

“Sassenach?”

“What!”

The toy was discarded and her face lost the luminous expression instantly. Jamie held out his hand and pulled her back downstairs. The large kitchen was modern and pulled Claire in like it was needy for a family. Jamie pointed to the window and following that direction, Claire saw the most extraordinary thing.

The sun sparkled off the tiny waves almost blinding if you looked right at it. The water moved to the shore, undulating softly. The lake was large enough that she could not see across it and the spark of a thought jerked her head up to Jamie.

“Is it the same…”

“I am willin to gamble it is, love. Let’s find out.”

They came back to the house and explained what was found. Rupert was called to the meeting and the group made a decision on who the best swimmer was in the group. It was Jamie. Ned Gowen and Claire left on horseback, Jamie walked into the lake, and Rupert took Angus to find Ben and bring him to the house. Misses Crook looked out the upstairs window until Ned Gowen was out of sight.

It took twenty minutes for Claire to find the property again and a fire was lit with wet wood at the entrance to show a smoke signal to Ben and the boys. Another was lit near the beach in front of the kitchen so Jamie could navigate. Claire explained to Ned what she knew about the elevation requirements for the grapes they grew.

Ben let the boys use two of his horses and the three took off, following the smoke column in the sky. When they came up on the fire, they covered it in dirt and rode on to the house seeing the second column of smoke. They entered the house with rubber necks and Ben disappeared shortly after.

Claire was tired after all the excitement and worried about Jamie. Where was he? Rupert and Angus explored the outbuildings telling scary stories to each other about finding the family with axes in their heads or hung from the hayloft. It wasn’t long before they came racing back to the house where they would hang out for the rest of the day.

Claire was feeling frantic at Jamie’s late arrival. What if something happened to him and he could not make it across? What if he… She watched the column of smoke and daydreamed about what life was like for the family that lived here. She saw the water droplets catch the sun with tiny rainbows inside of them and smiled. Wait, why are there water droplets in the air? “Jamie!” She stood up smiling at the image of her husband shaking the water off his long curls. She ran outside and jumped in his sopping arms feeling him shake with cold.

When Jamie’s teeth stopped chattering he described the passage across the lake, where he saw homesteads, where he saw vines. Ned encouraged him to draw a rudimentary map before he forgot the details.

Ben emerged from somewhere below the house looking like he had been kissed by an angel. His eyes were misty, his smile large, and his skin flushed. Jamie walked to him and slapped him on the back good-naturedly. Ben smiled up at him, “they left it all,” and pointed down and waved Jamie toward the door he had emerged from.

Jamie ran down stone steps that led to a subterranean basement as large as the house above. He bent over, hands on his knees to keep from pitching forward. When he thought he could stand he turned in a circle seeing all the equipment for a commercial scale winery. Giant mashers, holding tanks, fermenting chambers, tools, glassware, and a solid wall of oak barrels lined up three tiers high.

Ben joined him looking around like he was seeing it for the first time, smiling in a daze of wonder.

“ My brothers winery,” Jamie whispered.

“Huh?”

Split into the three critical parts, the winemaker, the grape grower, the laborer. We split three ways. You and I get a share and the third is divided among the men. It’s perfect,” he whispered. “My Brothers winery.”

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mintymiknow · 5 years

Text

Scintilla - ch. 6 | Bang Chan

summary & more info | masterlist

Characters: Stray Kids, Reader

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Summary: Perhaps the saying “too good to be true” was an accurate description of what was about to go down in your seemingly smooth-sailing life, and a certain revelation may have started that downward spiral.

Genre: Royal fantasy [Red Queen AU]

Word count: Approx. 7.6k

Warnings: Fight scenes, mentions of blood and violence

A/N: Ch. 6 is here! 👀 Sorry for the long wait. I was studying for my finals next week. I was able to finish this since I decided to take today as a break. I’m studying with friends tomorrow anyway~ So, this chapter may be one of my favorite chapters so far, and I personally like how things went down in here. Enjoy! Like always, don’t be afraid to talk through the asks :>

Several days had passed since the Grand Festival took place, and you still could not stop thinking about a certain someone, and a certain something that he did. Changbin, being the best brother in existence, could not stop teasing you and would often make kissy sounds when you were together. You’d have to smack his arm several times to shut him up, not wanting to get unnecessary attention from Hyunjin, Seungmin, or Minho. Technically speaking, being in love with Chan – a rebel – was the biggest “no-no” among all the rules of royalty.

But, were you really in love? Was this really “love” you were feeling towards Chan?

Maybe that was why being with him was always something to look forward to, especially when he looked at you like nothing else mattered – no bad blood, no scheming, no stupid royalty – nothing.

But it wasn’t just the overly-romantic, “swoon-worthy” moments you had with Chan that made you happy. Even as you “mock-sparred” with him at a grassy field somewhere in the outskirts of District 9, you felt your heart bursting with joy. The thrill of using your abilities to the fullest, the rush of adrenaline as you tried to keep up with a seasoned fighter – it was all exhilarating.

You surprisingly kept up with Chan as you exchanged a little hand-to-hand combat with each other. Though if you were being completely honest, you had a hunch that he was simply holding back. Most of the punches were coming from you, and Chan simply dodged or blocked them. “I didn’t know princesses knew how to fight.” Chan jokes.

“Yeah?” you throw another punch, “All the Elites kind of have to be trained. It doesn’t help when Minho was the one I usually trained with.”

“Yikes.” Chan laughs, “Must have been torture.”

“At first, but we got used to it.” you grin, igniting a flame on your fist before aiming it at the male.

Chan quickly reacts, pivoting as he grabs your wrist. You expected him to punch back or bring a kick to your stomach, but he instead pulls you towards him with a rather innocent grin. “Well, you’re going to need that when you become queen.”

You smile up at the male, eyes gleaming with admiration. He mischievously winks, and you tilt your head in response. Suddenly, you hear a piercing, ear-shattering sound accompanied by a small popping in the air in the space between your bodies. You jerk back, realizing Chan did that with his powers. “Did Minho ever teach you to not get distracted in a fight?” the male smirks.

Slapping your ear to relieve yourself of the lingering and irritating sound, you throw a smirk back at Chan, “Of course he did.”

“So you’re saying I’m too distracting?”

“Your words, not mine.”

You charge at him once again, a flurry of punches and kicks flying towards Chan. He expertly blocks all your attempts, occasionally swinging a few strikes himself, careful not to actually hurt you. With one particular punch, you duck and grab his arm, holding it close to you so that you could flip him over or strike from behind. Chan, however, uses his other hand to grab your wrist, spinning you around so that you were now caged in his arms. With your back against his broad chest and strong arms around you, you feel your heart go up in flames. “You fight rather well for someone with a pretty face.” Chan whispers, breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You angle your head to smirk at him, “Pretty face, huh?” you squirm free from Chan’s hold before smirking wider, “Rich coming from someone who looks like he could be a prince.”

Chan finds himself laughing, but his gleeful expression quickly morphs into something much more serious when you shoot a fireball at him. He chuckles before making use of the soundwaves to dodge your attack with accelerated speed. After a few more shots, you chuckle, “I thought you said you controlled sound!”

Another fireball. “You didn’t say anything about having speed!”

Chan dodges yet another attack before suddenly veering around behind you. He grabs your wrists from behind and grins, “Ever heard of sonic speed, y/n?”

“Can’t say I have.” you smirk, shifting around to elbow the male.

He evades it by a mere millimeter, and you take the opportunity to swing your leg below, kicking his ankle in the process. The impact causes him to fall on his back, but not without dragging you down with him. You become a mess of tangled limbs on the grass with Chan smirking up at you. You conceal a giggle before relaxing in his arms, “How does it work?”

Chan stares up at the sky, absentmindedly combing his fingers through your hair, “I basically manipulate the soundwaves around me so I can travel faster than the speed of sound.”

“That’s interesting.” you chuckle, “Newblood abilities are so fascinating.”

“Woojin’s is the most fun, if you ask me.” Chan laughs, “Gravity is everywhere.”

“Have you been victimized by Woojin’s abilities?”

“Too many times to count.” Chan grins. “We train as well, and whoever faces off with Wooj, well…let’s say they don’t get it easy.”

He slowly sits up, shifting your position so you sat on his lap. He grins up at you when you start picking flowers from the grass and placing it behind his ear. “Tell me about the Silver side.”

You shrug, “Well, we all started basic training when we were about 8 years old. As we got older, we had the whole ‘mock battles’ and duels with each other. Minho was never easy to beat, but I did manage to burn his hair a few instances. He didn’t talk to me for a week. Oh, and Changbin! Bin’s really great too.”

Chan listens to you blabber on and on about what it was like getting to punch Minho, or Hyunjin freaking out every time Changbin aimed at him with fire, or how Seungmin had everyone wrapped around his finger. Your eyes were gleaming, telling the stories through the immense glimmer they held, and Chan couldn’t help but soften his heart even more.

“What? Why are you just smiling and staring there?” you ask, poking his cheeks playfully.

Chan chuckles, clasping his hands around yours, “Nothing. I just realized that you love to tell stories.”

“Yeah?” you quietly chuckle, “Mother always told us stories – me, Changbin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and even Minho would listen to her endless narrations.”

When Chan notices how your eyes seem to darken like cloudy skies, he gently tilts his head to the side. “You’ve never talked about your mother before. You always mention your father.”

You play with the chain necklace that hangs around Chan’s neck; its cold surface feels nice in your fiery hands. “Mother passed away when I was 12. She was always sickly, so it didn’t surprise the Silvers. Still, it was devastating, and I think that was one of my lowest moments in life.”

Chan gingerly places a finger under your chin, making you look directly in his eyes. “I bet she was a great woman.”

“She definitely was. But I guess she and Father are now happy together.” you chuckle. “I wonder if they’d be proud of the person I’ve become.”

“Hmm.” Chan hums, reaching up to gently caress your cheek as a calm smile slips its way onto his lips, “I’m sure they are.”

“Enough of this, I hate getting mushy.” you laugh, attempting to get off of Chan’s lap.

The male, however, had other plans. He devilishly smirks as he keeps you close to him, arms wrapped around your waist. “Who said you could leave?” he laughs, finding amusement at your squirming.

You playfully slap his arms, his chest, and basically every other part of him before breaking into a big smile, “Chan! What are you doing? I want to get up!”

“Our little battle from a while ago isn’t over, y/n.” he chuckles.

Before you can protest or squiggle out of his grasp, he attacks your waist with tickles. You let out a sharp scream before flailing around. Changbin would probably joke about how you looked like a dead fish, but that was beyond the point. “Chan!” you breathe out, “Stop! Ah! I’m very ticklish!”

Chan continues to attack you mercilessly, the twinkle of mischief in his eyes unending. He laughs, “I’ve found your weakness, princess.”

“Chan! Please!” you say in between fits of laughter, cheeks hurting from laughing too much, “No!”

What started as a tickling battle – or more like tickling assault – eventually developed into a playful wrestling match. You tightly grip Chan’s wrist, moving his arms as far away as possible. “No more tickling for you, Bang.”

Chan pretends to struggle in your hold, his smile almost enough to distract you from your immense efforts to keep his fingers away. “Can you really hold me down, princess?”

“I’m stronger than you think.” you argue with gritted teeth, obviously using all your strength to stop Chan’s minimal attempts to tickle you.

When he smiles wider and laughs a bit louder, his dimples expose themselves, and you find yourself melting at his carefree appearance. Who gave him the right to look that cute? This gives Chan enough time to maneuver himself, moving around and flipping you over so that you were the one laying on the grass. He hovers above you, using his arms to support himself. You feel your cheeks heating up, and you mentally blame your innate abilities for your increased body temperature. “Getting hot?” Chan whispers dangerously close to your ear, his breath fanning your now-sensitive skin.

You place your hands on his shoulders as if trying to push him away, but really, you didn’t make any move to do so. “I’m always hot.”

When Chan’s lips curl into a smirk, you blush even redder and smack his chest, “No, no, no! Chan! Not in that way!” you feel the embarrassment pulsing in your veins, and maybe the ground should just swallow you whole right now. “I mean, my Burner abilities naturally give me higher and warmer body temperatures than other people…so like…I am…hot.”

Chan decides to aggravate you even more by simply remaining silent, staring at your already flustered face with an intensity so heavy, your heart starts going crazy. With one arm still supporting his weight, his other arm clamps onto your waist, his touch feather light, yet you feel every sensation that sends tingles under your skin. He drags his hand lower to your hips at a dangerously slow pace, and you find yourself holding your breath. “I can see that.” he whispers lowly.

Just as Chan’s eyes become lidded, yours go wide, watching every gesture the male does. Your heart beats in anticipation as Chan lowers himself, lips ghosting over yours so temptingly. When his lips brush over yours for a split second, your breath hitches as you grip his shoulders tighter, causing him to chuckle in delight yet again. He found it rather amusing that someone as confident and fiery like you were a melting mess when it came to him.

“Are you afraid, y/n?” he speaks lowly, lips brushing against yours yet again.

It takes a lot of concentration on your part to not get lost in that buzzing sensation. You shake your head softly, moving one hand along his neck before it lands just under his jaw, “I don’t think I am.”

Chan doesn’t know what compels him to do his next actions – placing tender kisses all over your neck – but he doesn’t protest, and neither do you. This was dangerous territory, you both knew that, but perhaps living dangerously was something you both had come to agree upon. Perhaps every cell, every fiber in your bodies just told you to let go. It was like there was some sort of inherent instinct prowling inside both of you that just naturally connected you to each other no matter what logical reasoning there was against it. Chan was basically playing with fire at this point, almost quite literally. Fascinating how powerful emotions could be in dictating one’s actions, right?

His soft neck kisses slowly turned into gentle nipping, and the feeling his lips and teeth had on your skin felt so right at that moment, burning you up even more as if your own flames were enveloping you. You both remain peacefully quiet with the only sound being heard coming from the rustling of leaves from trees nearby. Or…Chan simply filtered all unnecessary noises out so that he could truly share this moment of intimacy with you.

As he continues his endeavors along the junction between your neck and shoulder, you reach up to tangle your fingers with his platinum hair, finding enjoyment in its softness with a contented sigh escaping your lips. Chan’s nibbles and wandering hand comes to a halt when he hears light rustling nearby. He lifts himself up just enough to give you space before whispering, “Someone’s coming.”

“Oh, gosh.” your eyes go wide as you say a silent prayer, hoping that it’s not Minho, or any Silver at that. In fact, you prayed no one was there and that Chan was just hearing things.

Tough luck. Chan never just “hears things”; if he was gifted with the ability to control sound, then he was also very sensitive to all sounds.

However, his sharp gaze immediately softens at the sight of the approaching figure, and you start to wonder why. Chan gets up, eyes crinkling with thrill as he stretches out his arms to accommodate a brown-and-white dog. A dog? Chan kneels down, an endearing giggle escaping his lips when the animal leaps into his arms. The male sits on the grass, gleefully playing with the dog in his arms. You scuttle over to them, sitting next to Chan. “Is this SKZ’s dog or something?” you chuckle.

Chan shakes his head, “Mine. Well, technically, when Woojin and I were kids, we found Berry as an abandoned puppy and we took care of her ever since.”

“Berry?” you giggle at the soft-sounding, adorable name, “That’s cute. I didn’t know you guys had a dog. I’ve never seen her when…well, when we hang out.”

Chan smiles, rubbing Berry’s tummy, “She’s usually in the house, roaming around and cuddling with at least one person. Woojin must have let her go out.”

Chan’s occasional giggles and words of adoration towards Berry bring a euphoric melody to your ears, and it reaches deeper, tugging at your heartstrings. You chuckle to yourself, unaware of the fact that you’ve inched closer to the male. You slowly bring your gaze to his face, scanning every inch your eyes could see. You felt your heart melt at how his eyes held an entire galaxy filled with stars of pure joy as he lovingly pet his dog. You felt the butterflies in your stomach go wild as Chan’s tender coos escaped his lips, the sound nothing short of fondness. Here, right before your very eyes, was a rebel who had gone through so much. The snotty Silvers callously insinuated that his kind were “dangerous” or “murderous monsters” just because they weren’t born into elitedom. Yet as he played with his precious pet, you saw nothing but a normal young man who was simply relishing in the simplicity and bliss of mundane things. He was no different from the Silvers laughing about in Miroh, or the jolly citizens mingling in Elysium. They were wrong. They were all wrong, and your father was right. At this thought, you gently rest your chin on his shoulder, eyes still gleaming with awe as you look up at him.

Chan chuckles at the contact and tilts his head to look at you, “What?”

You blink a few times before breaking out into a wider smile. “Nothing, nothing.” you muse, expression softening even more.

Chan’s lips quirk into a smirk before he places a gentle kiss on the bridge of your nose. The action surprises you for a second, but you still end up giggling and scrunching your nose a bit too cutely for Chan’s heart to handle. Berry leaps from his arms to prance about in the field, chasing what seemed to be a butterfly. Chan takes this opportunity to lay his head on your lap, staring at you with his unwavering eyes. “I have a very serious question for you, y/n.” he whispers, and you feel your heart leap like a frog.

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Chan asks, expression rather serious.

“What?” you choke, “Why are you – ?”

“Or maybe Minho’s your first?” Chan raises an eyebrow haughtily, a smirk splaying on his lips, “Has Minho ever kissed you?”

You feel your face redden once again, struggling to get your response out. The words jam at your throat as you gulp, causing Chan to gleefully chuckle at your predicament. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” you stutter, heaving a little pout at the male.

He laughs, “For someone who spent most of her life in a castle with minimal socialization, I’d say you kiss pretty well.”

“Bang Chan!” you squeal, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Suddenly, all memories of the kiss you shared with him while in Miroh started replaying in your mind like a broken record, and it still felt so real.

When Chan starts to laugh louder, you huff in defeat and shyly answer his query, “I have never kissed anyone and never have I kissed Minho. You’re the…first.”

Without another word, Chan reaches up to caress your cheek – the gesture a feeling you’ve come to love, in all honesty. He gently brings your head lower, his lips pressing a kiss to your own. You lose yourself in the supple feeling of his lips working magic on yours – not even the finest velvet in the castle could compare to how exquisite it all felt. When you both pull away, Chan smiles against your lips in satisfaction. You giggle before sitting straighter, grinning at the male, “Hey, Chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Why’d you become a rebel?” you quietly ask, curious eyes dancing with his, “I’m sure you could easily live in Elysium, enjoying life without much problems.”

Chan smiles, his gaze now locked onto the clear sky above, “I joined SKZ ‘cause my parents used to be a part of it.”

You hum in response, and Chan continues to speak, “I didn’t know they were rebels. I found out when they died.”

Your heart sinks at the admission of the male, a frown darkening your features, “What happened?”

Chan watches the clouds in the sky, eyes shifting from one cloud to another as he chooses his words, “It was a few years before your father became king, so you know, rebellions were still a common thing. Woojin and I were really young at that time. We were out playing or something, and we somehow caught wind of a fire erupting somewhere in District 9. Turns out the whole place was burning. We couldn’t find our parents, and that was when Ho, SKZ’s current captain, took us to safety. In a camp, survivors and other rebels were there, including the dead bodies of our parents. Ho explained to us that our parents were rebels who were killed by Silvers in one of their planned rebellions.”

“So…Ho took you both in?” you ask quietly, “Raised you and all?”

“More or less, yeah. At least until we were old enough to actually live on our own.” Chan explains, “Either way, we joined SKZ ‘cause we didn’t want that to happen again. We didn’t want any more gruesome stuff happening like it did with our parents.”

“I’m sorry.” you say in a hushed voice, hand gently placed atop his chest.

Chan is quick to note the guiltiness in your soft-spoken tone and envelopes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think more than anyone, you know what it’s like to lose both parents. Different causes, but…it all feels the same.” he offers you a small smile, chuckling breathily afterwards, “I think that’s why you’re a really strong and driven person.”

You return the smile, soothingly running your fingers through his hair, “I kind of have to be, Chan. No one else is going to do it for me.”

“It’s hard, right?” Chan chuckles.

You give him a knowing grin and nod, “You know it.”

“I see myself in you sometimes, y/n.” Chan’s eyes twinkle so softly, you suddenly feel like putty, “I guess that’s why I was so drawn to you; why I think you’re going to do great things.”

“Let’s hope that actually happens, Bang.” you giggle, “I have very big decisions to make.”

“Don’t we all?” Chan laughs, and you find yourself beaming with him.

You wished the moment could have stayed like that – peaceful, pressure-free, and without any worry – but the universe liked to play games. Just before Chan could lean in to kiss you again, a familiar voice called out from a hill nearby, “Chan! Y/n! We got a situation!”

The distress in Felix’s voice alarmed not just you but Chan as well. He immediately lifts his head from your lap, standing up without a minute to waste. You do the same as Felix teleports in front of you. Catching his breath, Felix turns to you, “I got word that Miroh…the castle was attacked,” he then turns to Chan, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat, “by SKZ.”

If Chan was confused, he didn’t show much of it. He simply bit his lip and cast his eyes down to the grass as he tried to analyze the situation. You, on the other hand, gripped Felix’s shoulders in panic, “What do you mean? How is this possible?” you turn your attention to Chan, “What is going on?”

Chan steadies you, “I don’t know, y/n. Neither of us do.”

Felix nods his head fervently, “I don’t and neither of the boys too.”

Gripping your hand tightly, Chan asks the young male, “Where are the others?”

“Jeongin went to Miroh disguised as a Silver to get more information. Woojin and Jisung are on stand-by at the base.” Felix replies, nervously fumbling with his fingers.

Chan clicks his tongue. Your quivering hand trembles in his hold as you look into his eyes, “Chan, I have to go. Now. Alone.”

Chan only nods, gesturing for Felix to take over. Without any words of reassurance or goodbyes, Chan releases his hold on you, Felix’s own hand replacing his. Within seconds, Felix teleports you both out, but Chan managed to catch the look of guilt, confusion, and hurt painted on your face, but what got his eyes wavering and nerves pulsing the most was the way your glossy eyes stared at him with two heavy questions:

Did you know about this?

Were you involved?

Once Felix had gotten you as close as possible to the castle, you were greeted by chaos and an uproar. The Royal Guard were running around, calling out orders and aiding the injured guards. Apparently, just a small part of the castle was raided, away form the royal chambers and offices, but it so happens that the part that was raided was the dining hall and one of the ballrooms where you and your friends often stayed in. “Changbin!” you called out, sauntering into the castle with flame-wrapped fists.

You knock out a few rebels on your way to the ballroom, paying no heed to who they were. You no longer needed to push open the grand doors of the ballroom as the rebels had struck it down. You leaped over the debris, scanning the room for your brother. However, what you were presented with ripped your heart out in an instant. “H-Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin’s head lay on Seungmin’s lap, shiny Silver blood cascading his face and trailing over his closed eyes. Seungmin looks up to see you, his fearful eyes pleading for help. You rush over to them, kneeling beside Hyunjin’s unconscious body. “No, no, no. Hyunjin!” you scream, shaking his body. “Hey pretty boy…it’s y/n. Are you there?”

You turn to Seungmin, and he doesn’t need to read your mind to know you wanted answers. He shakes his head, “The attack started in the dining hall just down the corridor and started spreading here in the first floor. Hyunjin said he’d handle the ballroom while Changbin and Minho checked the other parts. I rushed to Hyunjin but…they had Silents, y/n. Hyunjin couldn’t do anything.”

“He-he’s not dead, is he?” you place a hand just above his heart when Seungmin shakes his head.

“He’s not, but I don’t think he’ll be waking up to greet you with a smile.”

You release a breath of relief, cradling Hyunjin’s head close to whisper, “I’m so sorry, Jinnie.”

“Y/n!” Changbin shouts upon entering the room, “Oh my gosh, Hyunjin!”

“He’s just unconscious.” you say, getting up to rush into Changbin’s arms.

Your brother hugs you tightly, “It was SKZ.”

“Do you really think that, Bin?” you whisper, “Would they really?”

“No, I don’t know, y/n.” Changbin answers, “SKZ isn’t just Chan and the guys. They’re a big group, so I don’t know if they all planned this or not.”

“I was with Chan.” you say, “He said he didn’t know...”

Your voice trails off as you see the metallic blood dripping from his sleeve, “Bin, your arm!”

Changbin shrugs it off, forcing a smile for you, “It’s just a shallow stab, nothing serious. You know I can take more than that.”

“Take Hyunjin and Seungmin to the medical wing.” you tell your brother, “Please. Get yourself treated too. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Changbin nods, heading to the two males. He helps Seungmin carry Hyunjin out, igniting a flame on his other hand in case there were still rebels around. Just as the three get out of the room, several rebels bust into the already-shattered windows, face masks concealing their features. The red bandanas wrapped around their biceps had “SKZ” written in black, and you suddenly feel a slight dread in your chest.

You are, however, forced into action when the rebels begin to attack you. One had abilities like Jisung, and the other was a Bomber like the one who ambushed you in Elysium from before. You block off their attacks, dodging lightning strikes and skipping away from explosions. You find a plank of wood lying around from the debris and set in on fire like some flaming sword. Without anything holding you back, you blast a shot of blazing fire towards the Electricon while striking the Bomber with your makeshift fire sword. The Bomber blows it up, but the second he does, you barrage him with a blast of fire. The familiar smell of ashes and smoke fills your nose, and you relent your attack. The two bodies collapse to the ground, completely burned to a crisp. A third opponent comes into play, eyes prowling like a lion. You do the same, aiming your flame-thrower-like ability at him. He, however, creates an energy field to shield himself. Immediately, he stomps forward and approaches you, swinging a knife in your direction. You end your flames and dodge his knife, but he manages to land a punch against your stomach. You stumble back, keeping your guard up with flames. “That’s not going to do anything, princess.” he laughs, creating yet another shield.

You narrow your eyes, brain rattling for a way to break his shield. You stretch one hand out and assail him with flames, but he simply blocks it with his shield. Sarcastically yawning, the rebel stands there, unamused. You bite your lip and stretch out your other hand, shooting flames towards the pile of debris by the door. “Where ya aimin’ sweetcheeks?” he laughs.

You tilt your head and smile, “Your cheeks.”

You flick your finger, and the fire you kindled from the debris comes at the rebel from behind. He isn’t quick enough to react, and as a result, his backside starts to go up in flames. He drops his shield with a cry of pain, and you take this opportunity to kick his chest. He stumbles back and falls over the window with a piercing scream. You look over to make sure he stayed down, grimacing when his impact on the ground makes a bone-crushing sound.

A fourth rebel comes up from behind you, and you pivot around just in time to grab his wrists from driving a knife into your back. He, however, grips your forearm and winks. You suddenly feel all energy being drained from you, and as you try to wriggle out of his grasp, you grow weaker every second. They were what they called “Leechers”, and they could siphon out life from humans. You grit your teeth and combust in flames, hoping the rebel would let go. However, as your energy was being drained, so were the intensities of your flames.

The rebel collapses all of a sudden, and you watch with wide eyes as red blood soaks his shirt, a shiny dagger lodged into his back. You look to the doorway to see Minho, arm outstretched and clearly unhappy. You feel your knees buckle as you sit on the floor, breathing heavily. You don’t say a word, but Minho is approaching you rather calmly. He grips your forearms tightly to lift you up, and that was enough for you to know he was angry. Of course he would be. You both stare at each other, the air buzzing with all these different emotions at once. You take in his disheveled appearance – his usual black suit jacket discarded to reveal a white button up stained with red and messy hair that clung to his forehead with sweat. You didn’t know if it was the sweat that made him shine, or if it was his own Silver blood seeping out from the wounds on his face. You look at him with apologetic eyes in hopes to convey your apologies, but he simply glares, eyes holding nothing but coldness, “Save it, y/n.”

Back in the medical wing, Minho drags you into the room where Seungmin and Changbin were waiting. “Do you see what you did, y/n?” he says, not bothering to raise his voice. “Your actions did this, y/n.”

“Minho, I didn’t know! No one knows anything for sure, ok?” you sigh, turning your eyes away from the male’s daunting gaze.

Minho laughs, “Y/n, I’ve been telling you again and again that you and your brother are prancing about with rebels. Oh, and what a coincidence! The rebel group your friends belong to just attacked your castle!”

You shake your head, “Cha – those guys wouldn’t attack, they – ”

“How foolish can you get? What’s it going to take for you to see the consequences of your actions?” Minho groans, exasperation taking over him, “You weren’t even here when they attacked, because let me guess, you were with Bang Chan again. Getting chummy, right?”

You knew a part of Minho was right. You weren’t there to protect your castle – your friends. Hyunjin lay unconscious because you snuck away to spend time with a certain rebel. What a disgrace, you thought, for the princess and queen-elect to get distracted and disregard her duties just to satisfy her own desires. The princess is missing in action when rebels decide to attack her home. And yes, at this point, that was on you. That was your fault and your mistake, and you would take responsibility for it.

You quietly respond, “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll take responsibility for my foolishness, but we need to know who did – ”

“Y/n,” Minho starts through gritted teeth, “SKZ did this. Don’t tell me you still think your friends are innocent and harmless when their group did this.”

He grips your wrist, dragging you with him as he strides out of the room. “Seungmin, three Royal Guards with me, now!” he barks his command.

Three guards follow the two of you without question. Seungmin gives Hyunjin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and looks at Changbin nervously before making his way to your group.

You look at Minho with fearful eyes, voice rather frail as you ask, “Minho, what are you doing?”

“We’re going to visit your boyfriend, y/n.” Minho snarls, voice low like a growling predator seeking his prey, “I want answers.”

Storming into District 9 with Minho and the Royal Guard didn’t seem like such a pleasing sight, and the icy glares the Reds and Newbloods were throwing were not helping at all. Seungmin suddenly felt so small, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to lift your eyes from the pavement. In the middle of the city square, Minho lifts both hands so all his chains, rings, and earrings levitated away from him. All his accessories morph into knives, and he directs each one merely inches away from the onlookers’ faces. “Bring me Bang Chan and his friends, unless you want these knives wedged into your foreheads.” Minho hisses, eyes narrowing at each person.

You want to rush to Minho’s side and stop his little theatricals, but one guard has a death grip on your arm, making sure you get nowhere near the Magnetron.

Meanwhile, in Chan’s base, Jeongin paces around nervously, “Hyung, hyung. Lee Minho and the Guard are in the square. They want us!”

Jisung narrows his eyes, “Let me at him. We’ll finish this once and for all!”

Felix bites his lip. “He’s really pissed, Jisung.” he points out, “Not even y/n could stop him.”

With his arms crossed, Woojin says, “The situation is really messy. All proof and signs leads to SKZ definitely attacking their castle, and they find it ironic that they attacked when y/n was away.”

Chan leans on the doorframe and turns to Woojin, “Let’s give them what they want, then. They want answers, let’s give it to them.”

Jeongin looks at the older male with worry, “Are you sure? What if they kill you?”

“Minho is cruel, but I think he knows better than to kill any of us in front of y/n.” Chan explains, patting Jeongin’s back reassuringly, “Stick close to Woojin and Felix, ok?”

Jeongin nods. Chan then turns to the other younger boy, “Jisung, refrain from attacking or provoking Minho. We don’t need to make it any more complicated.”

“Roger that, sir.” Jisung salutes.

Minutes later, his group walks into the city square with Minho waiting for them. Chan and Woojin lead the group with the younger males behind them. The three guards with you fix their stances, ready to attack in case the Newbloods did anything funny. Chan walks closer, now face to face with Minho. “What do you want, Lee?”

Minho smirks, “Y/n here thinks you didn’t do anything but clearly, your little gang of rebels attacked our castle.”

“SKZ did attack, but it wasn’t on my watch or order.” Chan calmly replies, “I didn’t know anything about it.”

Seungmin steps up from behind Minho, eyes wary and critical, “I have some doubts about that.”

You look at Seungmin with shock as he attempts to read Chan’s mind. Chan raises his eyebrow and smiles, “You’re not going to find anything in there, Whisper.”

Seungmin glares, “It’s hard to read everything, but I can still pick up fragments. Just give me enough time.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, “Let’s have some fun while waiting, shall we?”

He gestures towards the guard holding you, and he lets go. You slowly make your way to the center with Minho and the rest. Minho’s icy stare is on you as he speaks, “Maybe your girlfriend can get you to speak.”

You glare at Minho, leveling the viciousness in his eyes. You hear the people murmuring and mumbling about you being the queen-elect, but you shut those words out. “Well?” Minho smirks at you, eyebrows raised expectantly.

You huff and turn to Chan, eyes apologetic once again as you shake your head in the most subtle manner possible. “Tell them it’s not true, Chan. Tell me.”

Chan looks at you with calm, sincere eyes, ignoring the glare Minho was throwing at his direction, “SKZ is a big group, Your Highness. A different faction could have attacked your castle, but it was not ours.”

Minho turns to Seungmin who whispers, “I’m sensing some irregularities to your words. You’re anxious, Chan.”

Jeongin suddenly pushes past Woojin, rushing to Chan’s side. The young man’s eyes are ablaze with his own fiery fuel when he speaks against the two, “I went to Miroh when the attack happened! None of our faction was there, I swear on my life!”

Minho turns his attention to Jeongin. He shakes with fear, but he does his best to hide it. Minho nods, speaking in a deadpanned manner, “Ok, kid. Then whose was it?”

Jeongin gulps, eyes darting between Chan and the other Newbloods. Before he could reply, Seungmin turns his attention to him and reads his mind. “Apparently, it was a higher authority.” Seungmin reveals, “He didn’t get the name, but it was a high-ranking member.”

At this, Chan’s calm façade falters, and his eyes go wide. He couldn’t have possibly gone there. That’s all it takes for Seungmin’s ability to get past Chan’s unguarded mind, successfully accessing his thoughts. Once Seungmin has read it all, he lightly gasps and steps backwards. “What?” Minho demands, hands shoved in his pockets.

Seungmin’s shuddering eyes never leave Chan’s as he breathes out, “You were supposed to…to kill the princess…to kill y/n.”

Your heart stops beating and everything suddenly falls silent as a buzzing sound takes over your senses. You feel numb and speechless, drowning in your own thoughts. You quickly snap your head to face Chan, struggling to keep the look of betrayal at bay. Chan’s eyes are filled only with guilt as he stares back, eyebrows furrowed in distress.

“And…” Seungmin continues, pointing to Felix, “you were supposed to kill Changbin. You and Chan were told to get close to them so they’d be unsuspecting when the time to kill them came.”

“Bingo.” Minho scowls, drawing all his knives back to him to form a sword pointed at Chan, “Explain yourself, Newblood.”

Chan’s soft gaze towards you turns hard and steely when he glares at Minho, “That was the mission, Lee, but we decided not to push through with it.”

“Then why did your higher ups attack us?” Minho hisses.

“I said we didn’t know about the attack.” Chan spits back.

Seungmin’s voice is now steady and firm as he speaks, “I don’t read any signs of him choosing to abort his mission.”

“That’s a lie.” Chan says through gritted teeth, “Your abilities don’t know everything that goes on in my mind, Whisper.”

“But you don’t deny that you were going to kill y/n?” Minho shoves the sword closer to Chan’s face.

Chan ignores Minho’s question as he turns to you, slowly speaking, “Y/n, you have to believe me.”

“Is this what you meant when you told me that ‘everything we choose to do has risks’ and that we have to decide if we’re willing to take those risks?” you ask emptily, eyes avoiding his own.

“Y/n, I never meant to – ”

“Were you just playing around with me, using me?” you finally snap your head at him, tears pricking at your eyes with all your emotions overwhelming you once again, “Did you say all those things, do all those things just to use me and get on with SKZ’s plans?”

“Y/n, listen to me!”

“Were you just some sort of distraction for me so that my attention was away from the castle so your people could attack?” you scream, the tears now staining your cheeks. “Hyunjin is on the verge of death because I trusted you all!”

At the mention of his friend’s name, Jeongin’s heart breaks. Jisung and Felix look to Woojin who is just as puzzled as Chan is. Everything seems to be building up, but the only person you pay attention to is Chan. “You took advantage of me, Chan.” you breathe out in disbelief.

Chan shakes his head, eyes trying to plead with yours, hoping to stop yourself from building a wall between you two. “Y/n, I won’t deny the fact that my mission was to kill you. I’m being honest here. But I didn’t want to do it. Neither of us did, and that’s why we decided to disobey our orders.”

“This is more than enough to prove you’re a threat and danger.” Minho smirks, pulling the sword back as it transforms back into chains while his other knives return to their earring or ring forms. He grabs Chan’s collar and hisses, “Mark my words, Newblood. You are never seeing the princess again, and I’ll make sure your buddies don’t either.”

With a menacing grin, Minho puts his palm near the side of Chan’s head, one of his rings turning into a dagger, “You make any move or attempt to do so and this dagger will be the only thing touching your heart.”

“I said I’d let it all slide when I saw you the last time,” he continues to laugh, “but you test me, Newblood. I’m not letting this pass anymore.”

Minho retracts his dagger, but instead, he punches Chan’s face. You and Seungmin gasp while the other Newbloods and Reds start protesting and exclaiming profanities. The Royal Guard creates a barricade to ensure no one rushes into the scene between your group. Chan doesn’t react and simply stares at the ground with his head turned to the side. You grip Minho’s arm and whisper, “Enough, let’s go.”

But before anyone can make any move to leave, Jisung’s voice booms as he sparks his fists with electricity, “Lee Minho, you asshole!”

Woojin tries to stop the younger male, but Jisung has already bolted towards Minho, landing a sparking blow to the Silver’s face. Minho brings his hand to his nose, his fingers now painted with Silver blood, and with his enraged expression, you knew that there was no stopping his rage. Minho exclaims in frustration as he directs all his blades at Jisung. The latter is able to zap most of the blades, effectively blocking them out. However, a few blades make it past his lightning defense, grazing and cutting parts of his limbs and face. Two blades lodge themselves into Jisung’s leg, and he falls to his knees with a grunt. Minho is already sending another wave of blades towards his direction, but Chan pushes Jisung out of the way. He waves his hand in the air, soundwaves deflecting the flurry of blades. His eyes now carry more intensity than you’ve ever seen as if live fire were dancing in his very orbs. Minho decides to merge his blades into a sword and charges at Chan with full speed. Chan picks up a spare blade from the ground, and they battle it out, neither of them being able to land a blow on each other. Minho swipes the blade away from Chan’s hand and swings his sword at the male, but Chan snaps his finger, causing a crack of soundwaves rippling between them. The impact of the waves’ force hits Minho, and he stumbles back. Before he can do anything, he suddenly feels a heavy feeling gripping his chest as he gasps for air.

“There’s a Silent in here.” you rush over to Minho, eyes darting to look for the source.

When Chan’s eyes land on a figure walking towards your group in the city square, he starts to glare. “Ho.”

The captain claps his hands, mockingly kneeling in front of you and Minho. You bring fire to your fists and raise it at him, but the male simply looks to the side. His companion, a Silent just like him, silences your abilities too. Not too strongly, but just enough to keep you down. “I have to say, Lord Minho, Your Highness, coming to District 9 to attack Newbloods is a bold move. Are you trying to start another rebellion?”

Minho chokes out, “You attacked Miroh first.”

Ho chuckles, “It’s your princess’s fault. She fell for our man over here.”

Chan whispers between him and the captain, “Let them go, Ho. There’s been enough bloodshed today.”

Ho rolls his eyes, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. His companion lets go of his hold on you, but he has yet to do so with Minho. He roughly grabs the Silver’s jaw, forcing Minho to look at him, “You mess with my men again, and it’s goodbye to your and your posse, understood?”

He pushes Minho’s face away before releasing his ability’s hold and getting up. “Stay in Miroh and leave District 9 to us.” Ho smiles deviously.

Minho glares at him before grabbing your hand and gesturing for Seungmin to follow. With his pride and dignity crushed like that, Minho would want nothing but to get out of there. The Royal Guard leads the way, the three of you following close by. As if on habit, Chan manipulates the sound between the two of you – possibly the last time you’ll ever experience that – as he whispers a weak and broken “Y/n, please”.

But unlike before, you don’t respond; you want to, but you couldn’t find the words no matter how hard you tried to search for the right ones. You were just a few steps away from becoming out of Chan’s sound range, and that would result in you not being able to respond without anyone hearing. You still couldn’t formulate a decent response; if you didn’t say anything, that was it.

Three steps left.

Two steps.

One step.

You were now out of range from Chan’s sound manipulation, and the thought of you not being able to give at least one reply brought tears to your eyes once again.

Goodbye forever, perhaps.

212 notes · View notes

innerpostmentality · 5 years

Text

Timing Is Everything

Inspired by Choices: The Royal Heir Book 1 chapter 10 – The Bachelor Party All rights to Choices characters go to Pixelberry. I appreciate their work and their inspiration. This features: Liam, Drake, Maxwell, Bertrand, and Bastien Word Count: 7300+ a smidge. It’s long. I apologize but I hope you enjoy. Rating: Let’s call it M. It’s a bachelor party…. So if you aren’t M then please put it on your reading list for when you are a little older. This is an AU where Stephanie (MC) chose Drake instead of Liam. Liam met Hyclea (OC) and they are currently engaged. Liam is not naming Drake and Stephanie’s child his heir. Savannah and Bertrand are about to get married. Authors note: I’m a native Texan and while we are noted for our great out doors and the mosquitos might eat you and the raccoons might steal your picnic the odds of running into a bear are significantly less than running into a bobcat or coyote. Tagging: @bbrandy2002 @tornbetween2loves @custaroonie @ao719 @texaskitten30 @sawyer0akleyscowboyhat @furiousherringoperatortoad @kennaxval @kingliam2019 @stopforamoment @hopefulmoonobject @gardeningourmet @darley1101 @drakewalkerwhipped @bobasheebaby @cora-nova @indiacater @emceesynonymroll Maxwell was so excited about Bertrand’s bachelor party camping trip that he planned with Drake and Liam’s help he was practically bouncing. They had let him handle the evening camp activities and he had been nervously awaiting the arrival of the boxes of goodies he ordered after weeks of intensive research about bachelor parties. Since Drake and Liam had decided that the bachelor party was going to be a camping extravaganza in Texas he knew that it wasn’t going to be possible to have a girl jump out of a giant cake. And Savannah wouldn’t like that anyway. Drake had the early part. Liam the afternoon and lunch. And he had the evening and drinking and games. He wasn’t really sure how much champagne he needed to order. At Beaumont Bashes as much bubbly wound up spilled to various attempts at opening bottles with medieval weaponry as wound up in glasses so he finally asked Drake if he thought twenty four bottles would be enough? Drake lifted a brow trying to figure out if Maxwell was serious before he smirked. “I guess that depends on how big the pool is?” Maxwell’s eyes got big, “Pool?” “Twenty four bottles for four of us? You can’t possibly think we could drink that much so I was guessing we were going to be bathing in it? Which is a novel idea. Or you could give Bertrand eighteen bottles as a gift to enjoy with Savannah later I suppose.” Drake smiled thoughtfully as he contemplated the fun he might have with Stephanie and three cases of champagne. “I think you may be on to something, Max. Take six with us and save the rest for a present for them.”

He considered Drake’s advice but when he was packing he decided to take two cases since there were only six bottles in each case. Always better to have enough and his research had shown that one of the primary activities of a bachelor party was drinking, not just drinking but drinking excessively. The other primary activity of bachelor parties, the sexy naughty part was tougher to figure out. Out in the woods in a foreign country, house guests of your brother’s fiancées family that lived waaay out in the country you couldn’t get strippers, there wouldn’t even be a television to show bawdy films on. And then he found it, the Cock-a-Deux a penis casting kit! Everything you need to turn your willy into a gift that will wow your partner! They had kits that let you make sculptures, candles, vibrators, chocolate, night lights, dildos, intimate gifts that would be fun. It was perfect! He ordered kits to make candles. Then he thought they might like vibrators since you might not want to see a candle shaped like you burn away; and the ladies might like a vibrator better. Then he decided that chocolates might be even better. Then he thought you might need a test kit that was just plain. So he modified his order again. Then he got nervous worrying about it not arriving in time. Then yesterday when he was getting really worried Scary Aunt, Leona had brought him the package from Intimate Ideas. Maxwell grinned as he packed his sixteen Cock-a-Deux kits in his oversized duffel bag and set it on top of the ice chest where he had put the champagne before climbing into bed.

Pounding on his door woke him up and he squinted blearily at his phone, 5:30am. “Up and at em, Maxwell! We’ve got horses to saddle and the fish won’t wait.” Drake called from his door. Then the door was opened and a cowboy hat was sailed like a Frisbee to land on his bed. Drake woke Bertrand next and walked in as Bertrand spluttered to lay a pair of jeans and a denim shirt on the foot of his bed before setting a nice Stetson on top. “We’re going camping and Liam and I thought you could use some appropriate attire. Get dressed. Liam is making us coffee downstairs.” ------------------

Liam smiled and handed him a cup of coffee when Drake came into the kitchen chuckling. “How’d it go?” Drake saluted him with the coffee cup. “They were pre-verbal though Bertrand did make some noises of outrage as I barged in his room to deliver his outfit. I told him you were making us coffee.” Bastien walked in and gave Liam a short bow, “Your Majesty, the tents and equipment are loaded in the SUV. As soon as we have everyone’s packs the security team will take everything to the camp site and set it up for you.” “Would you like some coffee, Bastien? I really appreciate you taking care of this. I know it’s a bit unorthodox.” Liam sipped his coffee and smiled at the head of his guard. “Thank you Sir, your offer is kind but I am fully caffeinated at this time.” Bastien smiled. Liam shook his head chuckling. “Someday Bastien you are going to have to try my coffee. And that day you will be sad for all the years you have turned me down.” Bastien bowed, “It is a certainty, Sir.” There was a loud ‘thump’ bang, ….. ‘thump’ bang,… ‘thump’ bang, “Woah” ‘Thump’ bang, ‘Thump’ bang, “WoaH, WOAH, WOAH!” clatter, Boom. “Oh dear…” from out in the hall. “Maxwell Percival Beaumont! What have you done?!” Bertrand’s bellow echoed down the stairs. “Don’t Look Bertrand! You’ll spoil the surprise!” Liam and Drake looked at one another and burst into laughter even as Bastien dashed out into the hall. At the foot of the stairs Maxwell was sprawled over a large overturned ice chest. A dozen bottles of chilled champagne and ice were strewn across the entry; and a duffle bag large enough to carry a body in lay in the midst of the mess. “Lord Beaumont are you uninjured?” Bastien asked with immediate concern. “Oh, Yes. Just, could you keep my brother from coming down here while I clean this up, Please?” Maxwell looked at Bastien with his big blue eyes pleading. Bastien lifted a brow at the young man but went up the stairs to speak with Bertrand who was in the midst of getting dressed and had only opened the door to chastise Maxwell for the disturbance while he finished dressing. “All is well, Your Grace. I assure you there was more cacophony than calamity. And your brother seems unfazed by his sleigh ride down the staircase.” Bertrand nodded and closed the door. Bastien spoke in his ear piece, “Geno could you please come in and assist Lord Beaumont with reassembling his parcels for the camp. We’ve had a bit of a mishap.” A moment later the young guard came in and helped Maxwell clean up the ice and get all the champagne loaded back in the ice chest then they took the chest and the duffel out to the security SUV’s.

Maxwell joined Liam, Drake and Bertrand in the kitchen a few minutes later. He stopped short as he took in his brother dressed in jeans and denim. “Wow, Bertrand! Country stylin’. Savannah is going to love it.” He pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures of the three of them. “Do you think she will like this, truly?” Bertrand looked at himself a bit uncertainly. Drake slapped him on the back. “Welcome to the family. Denim is like Walker family colors. You look good, Bertrand.” “These jeans are somewhat tight are they not?” Bertrand was frowning slightly as he lifted one leg then the other. Maxwell laughed. “Savannah will love that too.” Liam and Drake nodded their agreement. Bastien came in the kitchen and bowed to Liam. “Sir the SUV’s have departed. The horses are ready and Dimitri and I will be accompanying you on horseback.” “Very good, Bastien.” Liam smiled at him then grinned, “Bastien might I impose on you to take a photo of the four of us before we embark? If you could send it to Maxwell I believe he’s making a memory book of this adventure.” Bastien gave a small smile then pulled out his phone as the four men arranged themselves holding their coffee cups up in a toast for the picture. The ride out to the campsite was beautiful and brisk in the cool morning air. The horses were prancy enjoying the coolness of the morning and inclined to a fast pace with the slightest encouragement. So it was only around 7:30 when they got to their campsite. A nice wooded area with massive pecan trees all around a bend in the San Saba river. Their tents were already set up and their gear stowed inside when they arrived. Drake ducked in his and came out a minute later with fishing gear and a tackle box. Bertrand’s eyes got wide as he looked at Drake. “Surely you jest?” Drake laughed. “You know better, Bertrand.” A breeze blew across the river and there were several ‘thunks’ as ripe pecans fell from the trees. “Oh, and you might want to keep your hats on. It’s pecan season. They’re tasty but hard on the head when they are falling. At least we won’t go hungry even if we don’t catch any fish.” Liam brought out some folding chairs and a cooler. “I have it on good authority that traditionally one drinks beer when fishing in these waters.” He popped the cooler open and handed each of them bottles of icy Shiner Bock beer. Bertrand sipped it and made a face. “This is rather harsh at breakfast your Majesty.” Drake lifted his bottle and clinked it all around. “To good beer, good friends, and good fishing! Bertrand, it gets better the more you drink. And I’m certain there is a monster large mouth bass with your name on it just waiting for you to toss a lure in.” The next several minutes were occupied with Drake getting everyone’s fishing gear set up and instructing Bertrand and Maxwell on how to work the lures. He was about to sit down when suddenly Bertrand hollered, “Oh… Oh… I seem… Oh my.” The ragged whirr of the break on the reel sang as the fish ran for freedom. “Reel him in, Bertrand!” Drake yelled. Bertrand started cranking the handle on the reel the pole bending and swaying as he fought with the fish. “You shall not prevail, scaly denizen of the deep!” “Drake! Drake! I think I have one!” Maxwell yelled as his reel sang with the line peeling from it. He pulled back but the line kept going out. “Reel Maxwell. Use the reel.” Drake grabbed the dip net and headed for the bank where Bertrand was managing to pull the tiring fish into the shallows. “It’s a nice one Bertrand. I told you there was a fish waiting for you.” He skillfully scooped the dip net under the fish and hoisted it out of the water. Drake slipped the hook out of the bass’s mouth and held it up for Bertrand to see. “I’m guessing this one is over 4 pounds. Nice work Bertrand!” Bertrand had a huge smile. “Ha! That shall teach you to test the metal of a Beaumont!” Maxwell was struggling with his as the tip of the pole zig zagged wildly and the reel began to whine again. “Keep the tension, Maxwell. Think of it like a dance. You’re leading but you have to keep the tension.” Drake slipped Bertrand’s bass on a stringer and secured it to the root of a big cypress tree that grew right at the water’s edge its roots extending down into the river. Just then he heard Liam’s reel start singing. The King had been fishing with Drake before and so was grinning and handling the fish with expertise. An hour later everyone but Drake had caught multiple fish. Drake had been kept busy scooping up their catches and freeing the ones that were deemed too small to keep. And they had caught enough fish not only to feed the four of them but also to send some back to the house for the ladies to enjoy. Bertrand and Maxwell had become new fishing enthusiasts and grilled Drake as they made their way back to camp with the gear about where they could acquire such gear and if he would show them where they could fish when they got back home. Liam grinned as they got back to camp and saw the large box he had requested be brought sitting next to his tent. Drake passed another round of beers out to all of them then went to take the fish for the house to Bastien. When he returned with a giant picnic basket Liam was explaining the box. “I thought in light of this auspicious occasion that I would arrange for us to hold the time honored Cordonian tradition of an Apple Shoot. Our good hosts have packed us a luncheon of fried chicken, potato salad and pecan pie?” He looked to Drake for confirmation. Drake nodded as he spread a checkered table cloth on the folding table that had been set up in the middle of the camp and started pulling containers out of the giant picnic basket. “After lunch I thought we might allow for an hour of practice if you wish and then the event.” Liam pulled one of the folding chairs up to the table and grinned at the repast that Drake was unloading. When they were all gathered around the table Liam stood and raised his beer. “I think a toast is in order. To friends and the lovely ladies who have provided us with this wonderful feast!” They all clinked their bottles together with a “Se haray mas!” It took a bit of persuasion to get Bertrand to accept that using one’s fingers to eat fried chicken at a picnic was completely acceptable. But when Liam grabbed a drumstick with his hand after sampling the potato salad with his fork Bertrand followed his king’s example. Maxwell declared that Pecan pie was the ultimate delicious dessert of America and proceeded to eat four pieces. The subsequent food coma lasted for about half an hour while they sat around chatting about the morning with the occasional pecan falling and tatting around them.

Liam stood and went over to open the large box. “I had several weapons that have traditionally been used for the Apple Shoot sent so you might have your choice Bertrand. They’ve been modified for safety.” Bertrand went over and looked in the box finally selecting what looked to be an ornate dueling pistol. For the next hour he practiced shooting with it. Then Liam asked him formally if he was ready for the test. Bertrand bowed to his king and told him it was his honor to accept the challenge. “Gentlemen, my Lords as you know becoming a Knight’s-Marksman and honorary defender of the realm is one of the high honors reserved for the Crown to offer. It is an opportunity offered only to those who the Crown acknowledges as faithful friends of Cordonia. It is my pleasure to offer the opportunity to his grace Duke Ramsford, Bertrand Beaumont. Who shall sponsor with faith in his true aim?” Drake and Maxwell both stepped forward and looked at each other. “I will. I know you can do this Bertrand.” Maxwell grinned at his brother. “I will. Please don’t shoot me, Bertrand. Getting shot once was enough.” Drake looked at Liam and grinned. Liam nodded at them. “Very good. Please take your positions twenty paces from us Lord Beaumont, Duke Valtoria.” The men counted off the paces then stood together and faced Bertrand and Liam. “Are you ready?” Liam looked at Bertrand who looked for a long moment at his brother and Drake then looked up mentally visualizing what was about to happen. Finally Bertrand nodded. “I am, Your Majesty.” Liam tossed the Cordonian Ruby Apple in a high arc toward and above Maxwell and Drake’s heads. Bertrand braced the pistol on his forearm sighting in on the arc of the apple and fired. The plastic ball cut a perfect hole through the center of the apple! Maxwell and Drake whooped and ran to pat Bertrand on the back congratulating him. Liam grinned, “Well done! Well done!” Bertrand had a huge grin and kept repeating, “I did it! I did it!” Then Liam went back over to the box and retrieved a beautifully engraved wooden box. Inside was a circular gold pin depicting an apple pierced by an arrow engraved around the edge with ‘Knight’s Marksman of Cordonia’ He presented it to Bertrand. “Look at the back Bertrand. It’s engraved with the date and your name. Congratulations Bertrand!” Liam hugged him kissing him on each cheek. Bertrand’s eyes were bright with emotion as he looked at his king. “It’s engraved? But how?” Liam smiled patting his back. “Because you are Bertrand Beaumont. There was never any doubt in my mind that you would succeed.” Liam grinned, “I think this calls for a drink. I heard some rumor that someone brought enough champagne for a swimming pool?” Maxwell was already running for his tent and the ice chest full of champagne. He brought the chest out and proudly presented a frosty bottle to Liam. “As requested!” His eyes got big. “Oh no! I forgot glasses!” Drake chuckled, “Well we’ll have to suffer with the plastic cups in the picnic basket then.” Liam deftly uncorked the champagne managing not to lose half the bottle in a geyser while Drake got the plastic cups from the picnic basket. They were all smiling as Liam toasted to Bertrand the newest Knight’s Marksman of Cordonia.

As soon as the bottle was empty Drake stood and stretched. “Okay gents it’s time for you to gather up some firewood for the evening while I clean the fish and do the prep work for dinner.”

Bertrand lifted a brow and sputtered at Drake ordering them around. Liam chuckled shaking his head and putting a hand on Bertrand’s shoulder. “Bertrand, you are in Drake’s domain now. And you would do well to accommodate him in this. Unless you want to learn to gut fish? Trust him, Bertrand, we’re in good hands.”

Drake headed to his tent to get his ice chest and cooking gear. But called over his shoulder before ducking in the tent, “If you see a brush pile you need to poke it with a stick first; if you gentlemen hear something that sounds like a baby rattle in a bush you step back slowly the way you came. Do NOT investigate. We have venomous snakes here. One of the most common ones is a rattlesnake. You do not want to meet one.”

Bertrand and Liam and Maxwell all exchanged looks as Drake disappeared into his tent.

“Perhaps we should wait for you to finish your preparations and you can join us gathering wood?” Bertrand called to Drake.

Drake came out of his tent with his rolling ice chest. “If you wish.” Drake grinned, “You know it’s a really nice day. How long has it been since you went swimming in a river?”

Liam got a big grin but resisted telling Drake the last time was with Stephanie and thought that he really needed to take Hyclea to Forgotten Falls sometime soon.

Maxwell giggled and Bertrand glared at him. “We Beaumonts do NOT swim in public.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing that we aren’t in public then.” Drake drawled. “This is all part of Walker Ranch, Bertrand. Private property and our own little piece of the San Saba river just for our use. But first let’s get some wood and get the fire started so it can make us some nice coals to cook on.”

An hour later Drake was satisfied with the fire and they all headed back to the river. It was short work if somewhat messy for Drake cleaning the fish and icing them down. He grinned at the others who were sitting in their folding chairs sipping beers and enjoying just watching the river and talking about the morning. He stood from rinsing his hands and started unbuttoning his shirt. “You know we have a saying here….” He shrugged out of his shirt dropping it in his chair then whipped off his t-shirt and started pulling off his boots. “Actually, we have several sayings but two come to mind.”

Liam grinned and started taking off his boots. “Bertrand you probably should take off your boots.” He advised.

Bertrand just blinked uncomprehendingly as Drake continued to strip. “Beg pardon?”

Drake grinned. “Help your brother with his boots Maxwell.”

Maxwell didn’t look too sure for a moment but then got a huge grin. “Of course!” He got up and went over and started pulling on Bertrand’s boots ignoring Bertrand’s look of shock.

Drake pulled his belt and dropped his jeans and boxers laying them over his shirts on his chair then taking a swig of the beer and setting his hat on top of his pile of clothes.

Liam had unbuttoned his shirt and was grinning like a naughty eight year old. “Bertrand, come to think of it you might want to take off your clothes. You too Maxwell.”

“I… Your Majesty?... I” Bertrand sputtered wide eyed.

Maxwell got Bertrand’s second boot off then sat down and started pulling off his own boots. “We’re going skinny dipping!!!! Yes!!”

“And Maxwell,” Drake’s tone was deadly, “If you take any pictures I will drown you and feed your body to the catfish. Do you understand me?”

Maxwell nodded then answered Drake. “Understood. I’m leaving my phone in my pants.” Then he grinned and shimmied out of his clothes.

“I’m not sure this is appropriate.” Bertrand muttered even as he was unbuttoning his shirt.

Maxwell was dancing and singing “We’re going skinny dipping, skinny dipping, skinny dipping.”

Drake went to his pile of clothes and found his phone to put on some music before he ran and jumped in the river. The cool water was an exhilarating shock and he surfaced a moment later with a whoop and laughing swiping the water out of his face. “Oh yeah… that saying… Last one in is a rotten egg!”

Liam dashed and jumped in moments before Maxwell jumped grabbing his knees to cannonball for maximum splash. As soon as Maxwell popped up Drake and Liam splashed him laughing.

“Bertrand you best come save your brother.” Liam called out to him before sending another scoop of water toward Maxwell.

Bertrand set his hat on the neat pile of clothes on his chair before wading into the river and joining the water fight.

For the next hour they played and joked and laughed as though twenty years had been shed from them with their clothes. The river carried them downstream a bit and rather than streak through the woods to get back to their clothes they swam to the shallows and waded back upstream.

As they got dressed Bertrand cleared his throat. He blushed as he addressed them. “I, I just want to thank you all. This has been quite wonderful. It means a lot to me, to us really. I know Savannah was quite thrilled that so many have come.”

Drake patted Bertrand on the back. “I know we have had differences in the past, Bertrand. But you put the light in my sister’s eyes and I know you love her. I’m happy to call you brother.”

He rubbed the back of his neck then grinned. “The fire should be ready, and I’m starving!”

They made their way back to camp where Drake dug the potatoes he had wrapped in foil earlier and buried in the fire out before he set a grill over the coals and cooked the fish he had prepared earlier.

Liam set the table up again and Maxwell brought out more champagne.

All of them moaned with ecstasy at the first bite of the delicious fish.

“Drake, this is the best fish I’ve ever tasted!” Bertrand exclaimed even as he took another bite.

“To our chef of the evening! Drake! You have out done yourself my friend!” Liam lifted his plastic cup of champagne and they all clacked their cups together and drank.

Drake blushed, “Well it helps that we were all pretty hungry. But I want to toast Bertrand, My Brother, My Friend, And the man that caught this delicious fish!”

“To skinny dipping!” Maxwell gushed enthusiastically.

The others all looked at Maxwell a moment then burst into laughter and toasted with him.

“It was quite liberating actually.” Bertrand grinned and drank.

“Hey, Maxwell what have you got planned for our after-dinner entertainment? I saw that huge duffel bag this morning.” Drake was taking a bite of a buttery baked potato.

“Well it was quite a challenge to find something we could do out here. But I finally found the perfect thing!” Maxwell took another bite of the fish and poured more champagne into everyone’s cups.

“And what is that?” Liam inquired.

“Cock a Deux kits.”

Drake choked barely turning his head in time to avoid spraying the champagne he’d just sipped on Bertrand.

Liam looked alarmed, “Drake are you okay?” Drake waved, eyes watering.

Bertrand looked at Maxwell, “Pray tell what is this Cock a deux kits?”

Maxwell looked a little uncertain, a bit worried about Drake and not quite as sure how perfect this idea was now. “Well bachelor parties are supposed to have lots of alcohol and sexy entertainment. So the champagne was easy. I know you love Champagne, Bertrand. But sexy entertainment out in the woods.. Well that was hard. But Cock a deux kits are these kits you can make molds of your penis…”

Liam snorted his drink and started coughing.

Bertrand grew about three inches taller in his chair, “No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s the perfect intimate gift for the one you love, Bertrand. And you can make vibrators, or chocolate, or candles and I thought at first candles, but burning one of those might be, I don’t know weird… I know Savannah would love it.”

Drake was laughing so hard he was snorting and slapping his knee. “Maxwell…. how, how many did you get? That duffel bag was huge.”

Maxwell mumbled so low no one could make out what he said.

“Drake, I think you knew what this was. How have I not heard that story?” Liam chucked as he recovered enough to inquire.

Drake grinned and shook his head. “Frat hazing. We had to make casts then make a candle and take it in. They lit the candle and then you had to go on a treasure hunt and find a hidden object before your candle burned down.”

“Dare I ask?” Liam lifted a brow.

“I’m certain you will.” Drake laughed. “Nope.” He snorted. “It’s… harder than you might think.” And then they all were laughing.

“Hey… I was trying to do it without help. It’s definitely a two person job.”

“There is NO Possible scenario!” Bertrand protested.

“No… “ Drake was laughing so hard he was having a hard time catching his breath. “Not like that. I mean timing…. And slipping yourself into cold alginate isn’t the most conducive to staying in great mold making form so to speak.” Drake was still chuckling as he picked up his cup and refilled everyone’s. “To Cock-a-Deux” He crowed and tapped his cup to the others.

“We gotta do this.”

Liam laughed and hid his smirk in his cup as he drank. Thinking it was going to take a LOT more champagne to get Bertrand to participate in this escapade.

Maxwell was slightly stunned that Drake was supporting him. But he went to his tent and got the duffel bag and brought it back out to the table.

“You know what we really need if we want to get good molds? Good Lord alive, how many of these did you get Maxwell?” Drake looked at the size of the duffel bag that Maxwell had sat on the table. Drake opened it up and burst out laughing again. “Oh my… “ He started pulling them out. “We have candle kits, and vibrator kits, and chocolate kits, and this one looks like it just makes a neon colored body safe silicon dildo…. “ He doubled over laughing. “Sixteen cock kits….”

Maxwell blushed. “I thought we might need to practice or something. And I read online that if you were too big you might have a hard time…” Drake shrieked with laughter. “Well it said that you have to be careful not to touch the bottom or the sides or it won’t work properly. And they recommended extra alginate and large plastic water bottles rather than the kit tube.”

“Did… did they recommend… cock rings or Viagra? Cause I promise that’s the only way you get a good mold.” Drake was holding his ribs struggling to get control.

“They did. So I got some of those, cock rings that is. Leather ones with a snap so you can get them off. There were some really bad pictures of men stuck in metal ones.” Maxwell shuddered.

“I have some Viagra” Bertrand mumbled.

“You do?” Maxwell, Drake, and Liam all turned to him at the same time.

“Well yes. I, mean I don’t need it. It was like, like insurance. I could not bear the thought of disappointing Savannah on our wedding night or honeymoon...” He shrugged. “If you prefer the blue pill I can certainly spare three. As I said it was merely insurance not something I require. And I have far more than I would use I’m certain. I will not be engaging in this activity.”

“Are you sure?” Drake raised his brow. “I am certain Savannah would cherish such a personal, unique gift from you Bertrand. I know Stephanie will love it. Hell, I may make her a full set!”

Bertrand looked torn. “Truly? You think Savannah would, would appreciate such a thing?”

“I’m certain she would love it.” Drake somehow managed to keep a straight face.

Liam refilled the champagne cups. “I must admit to the clever novelty of the idea Maxwell. I am not quite certain when the time may be right for me to bestow such a thing on my intended. But as intimate gifts go it does seem more entertaining than a bejeweled toenail clipping.” He was chuckling as he finished his dinner.

“So since you researched it Maxwell how are we going to go about this?” Drake was looking over the various kits and the extras.

“Well we need to heat some water. Then we have to decide if the tube that the kit comes in is going to work or if you’ll need to use one of the large water bottles. The warmer it is the faster the alginate will set. But obviously it can’t be too warm. And if it’s too cold well we might not be able to, um, make a good impression. But that’s where the cock rings can help or I guess we could try the Viagra. I thought the person who is going to make the mold can go in their tent and tell us when to start making the alginate and then we can pass them the alginate when it’s ready.” Maxwell shrugged.

Drake put a pot of water on the fire. “Maxwell you may have been right about how much champagne we may need.” He chuckled.

Bertrand was frowning. “Are you actually going to do this?” He looked around at the other men with a raised brow.

Liam laughed and filled Bertrand’s cup up again. “I honestly don’t see any harm in it Bertrand. It’s not as though we are doing something risky or sharing some intimacy with a stranger. It says here this dildo kit can be modified into a night light. It rather amuses me to think of bedecking the thing with flowers and having it set on the night stand as a night light.”

“It amuses me to think of Maxwell using his to open champagne bottles at a future Beaumont Bash.” Drake chuckled.

“I’m more concerned about Bartie using it as a sword to play pirate with the nanny.” Bertrand mumbled but finished his drink.

After a few more rounds of drinks all of the men were agreed they would do it. Maxwell was going to go first. He said he would need the larger water bottle and the extra alginate. He went into his tent with one of the leather snap on cock rings and a few minutes later they heard the strains of an Argentine Tango coming from his tent.

Drake put another pot of water on the fire and mixed hot water into the cold until Maxwell said he was ready. Then he mixed the warm water into the alginate as quickly as he could and poured the warm gloop into the cut off water bottle and handed it to Maxwell.

A moment later… “Um… I may need some help. Maybe a chair?”

The other men all looked at one another. Finally Drake chuckled and grabbed one of the chairs. “I’m coming in Maxwell.”

Drake’s eyes got big as he entered the tent. Obviously Maxwell was a ‘grower’ not a ‘shower’ and he was very large and bound with the leather strap his tip nearly at his navel.

“Could you maybe hold the container while I bend over and hold myself down? I can’t manage myself and it and if I tilt it, it’ll spill. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

Drake took the bottle with the alginate and held it in the seat of the chair. Maxwell leaned over the arms of the chair holding himself down and pushing his erection into the tepid solidifying alginate.

“Good job Maxwell! Now you just need to think sexy thoughts for the next five minutes or so. And don’t move.”

Maxwell shut his eyes and Drake struggled not to giggle as he held the container steady.

It was actually about three or four minutes later when Maxwell opened his eyes. “Do you think it's hard enough yet?”

“Maxwell you are literally balls deep in it, I would think you have a better idea than I do.”

“Well maybe try to squeeze the bottle some and see if it squeezes?”

Drake squeezed the bottle but it felt firm. “It seems firm. You want to pull out and see?”

Maxwell carefully withdrew himself and grinned. “It worked!!”

“Yay. Now please put yourself away. And just to be clear. You get to do the holding honors for Bertrand. I suspect he wouldn’t accept anyone else. So what are you going to make with this?”

Maxwell considered carefully for a few minutes. “I think I’ll make a dildo. Then if I want to make other things I can use that to make other casts.”

Drake grinned. “That’s brilliant, Maxwell. And yours came out much better than mine did years ago. It really does take a team to do this well.”

They joined the others as soon as Maxwell was dressed and shared the thought that they should all make the silicone dildos and then they could use those in the future if they wished to make other things. The problem they ran into was that they had to use two of the dildo kits to get enough silicone to fill Maxwell’s cast.

Liam said he would use one of the vibrator kits and he thought that could also be used to cast other molds if needed.

Things went pretty well. Liam held for Drake. Drake held for Liam. They got good casts and by the time they were done Bertrand had enough to drink he was willing to make a token of his love for his love.

Though he rejected the idea of needing a holder until he spilled the first bottle of alginate. Then he agreed to allow Maxwell to hold the second container for him. But even with the cock ring after all the alcohol he wasn’t quite up to where he needed to be. So he took a Viagra and they waited until he practically sang “Oh yes! We are most ready now!”

Maxwell went in with the third bottle of alginate and Bertrand sank himself proudly and deeply into it. Ten minutes later they weren’t coming out. Drake and Liam looked at each other and then at the tent. A couple of minutes later they heard Maxwell speaking quietly.

“Bertrand you need to pull out now.”

“This seems to be stuck.” Bertrand had the ‘we are not amused’ tone in his voice.

“Well, maybe unsnap the cock ring?”

“Ouch! My hair! Ouch! We are just going to have to wait a bit longer.”

Ten minutes passed with increased grumbling from Bertrand.

“Bertrand it would probably help if you take that cock ring off. Just unsnap it.” Drake called out to him.

“This infernal substance has solidified around my short hairs.”

“Maxwell, can you come here a moment?” Liam called to Maxwell.

Maxwell came out looking worried. “He really is stuck. It’s all glued in his hair I didn’t even think about it before it was too late.”

Drake looked at Liam, “Do you still use a straight razor?”

Liam laughed. “Yes. But I’ve also had about a bottle and a half of champagne. Do you really want me to geld your brother in law before his wedding?”

Drake frowned. Then grinned. “I know who else shaves with a straight razor… And hasn’t been drinking. Oh he’s gonna love this.” Drake stood up and headed down the trail calling for Bastien.

A few minutes later Drake proudly came back with the senior guard. “I told him he was our only hope. The future of the Duke of Ramsford depends on him.”

Liam looked up and nodded. “You didn’t tell him what happened?” Liam smiled sweetly and offered Bastien a drink.

“We’ve been drinking.”

Bastien lifted a brow. “Indeed. How may I assist you Sir?”

Liam pointed at the tent.

Maxwell’s most calming voice carried to the guard. “Drake went to get assistance”

“I don’t need assistance.”

“Then pull out.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Then you need assistance at this point Bertrand.”

Bastien lifted a brow at his King and Drake, “What sort of assistance does Duke Ramsford require may I ask.”

“He needs a shave. In very close, delicate quarters. With a straight razor.” Liam chuckled. “I’ve been drinking. So we thought it best you assist since you have skill.”

There was a very slight lift of his brow as he bowed to his king. “Do you have a shaving kit?”

Liam got up, slightly unsteady and giggled a bit. “I always forget how champagne hits you when you stand.” He went to his tent and came back a minute later with his shaving kit.

Bastien took it from him and went to the tent where the voices of Maxwell and Bertrand were emanating. He entered and stopped at the vision of Bertrand Beaumont naked from the waist down bent over a bottle filled to the brim with a pale green alginate his genitals submerged in the substance.

“Your Grace, I have been asked to assist you.”

“Lord Beaumont perhaps you could get your brother something strong to drink. And perhaps a first aid kit?”

“First aid kit?” Bertrand queried in alarm.

“Yes your Grace. I believe some anesthetic cream may ease your discomfort. I am going to shave your hairs that are accessible. And we will put some numbing cream on as much area as we can and then remove this.”

Maxwell returned with Drake’s hip flask and the first aid kit and Bastien looked through it until he found a small tube of anesthetic/antiseptic cream. He told Bertrand to drink some of the whiskey and then lie back and think of pleasant things while he and Maxwell took care of him. He had Maxwell hold the flashlight and the container Bertrand was stuck in. And carefully examined what he was dealing with.

“How long has he been in that cock ring?”

“Thirty minutes maybe?”

“We need to get that off him now.”

“It has snaps. It just needs to be pulled and it’ll pop off.” Maxwell told Bastien.

“It hurts to pull it. It pulls my hair.”

“Your Grace, I need you to relax please.”

Bastien carefully felt around the base of the strap until he located the snap.

“That pains me!”

“Yes. I know. My apologies.” Bastien held one end to steady it and jerked the snap open.

“OUCH!! Damnit man I’m going to need those.” Bertrand howled.

“Indeed your Grace. I believe you which is why we had to get that off you.” Bastien was actually very gentle as he smoothed the anesthetic cream on as much of Bertrand as was accessible.

Bertrand sighed, “You have cold hands.”

“My apologies your Grace. Do you feel any relief from your erection?”

Bertrand blushed. “Not yet.”

“Maxwell can you get me some ice please?” Bastien took the container from Maxwell.

“Bertrand I’m going to put some ice on you. It should numb you a bit. Then I’m going to very carefully shave you as much as possible. And then we are going to take this mold off you. Hopefully. Do you understand me?”

Bertrand nodded. “Please, please promise me you will not speak of this.”

Bastien nodded. “On my honor, your Grace. We will never speak of this again.”

“Thank you. You are a good man Bastien.”

Maxwell returned with a tee shirt filled with chipped ice from the cooler and a bottle of water.

Bastien had him hold the container and carefully tucked the ice and the tee shirt around the base of Bertrand’s cock while Bertrand made a strangled moaning protest. “That’s soooo cold!!”

A few minute later Bastien took the ice away and pulled out the razor. Bertrand’s eyes got wide.

“Is this completely necessary?”

“Well you have quite a bit of hair stuck in this and we need to get you out of there. I do believe that shaving as much as we can will be much less painful, your Grace.”

Bertrand nodded and lay back. “I can’t look.”

Ever so carefully Bastien shaved as much of the hair as he could. “Now hold very still. On three we are going to remove this.

One,” He nodded to Maxwell and Maxwell pulled the mold up and off his brother.

Bertrand sat up yelling, “You said Three! That was NOT Three Maxwell!!”

“Indeed your Grace,” Bastien smiled as he stood up. “It wasn’t three. But you know timing is everything. And you are free. I believe you have a rather impressive mold. And the Ramsford equipment seems to be intact.”

Bertrand looked a bit startled then smiled. “Well done. And many thanks Bastien. Would you like some champagne? I think we still have some. Maxwell, get Bastien a bottle of champagne would you?”

Maxwell grinned. “Of course. And Bastien we have extra mold kits if you like I’ll give you one….”

#trh #trh drake #trh liam #drake #liam #trr bastien #trh bertrand #choices #fanfic #choices fanfiction #bertrands bachelor party

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Yes Mistress

TITLE: Yes Mistress CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 29 AUTHOR: angryolwet ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine after a heated argument with Thor, Loki turns himself into a woman out of spite. RATING: Mature/Explicit NOTES/WARNINGS: NSFW, This is a F/F BDSM relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, don’t drink it. The events in this fic take place before the first Thor movie.

I AM SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOO SO LONG TO UPDATE!!! I meant to post at my usual time but I got very sick at the end of last month and ended up with vertigo for a few weeks as well. If any of you have ever had it, you know reading a computer screen is the last thing you want to do. Not unless you’ve got a bucket handy.

*****Trigger Warnings!!! This chapter deals with descriptions of child abuse and shitty parenting, (not Odin’s for once) and those parts are contained within the asterisks below.*****

You don’t super need to read that part for the chapter to make sense if it’s a sensitive subject for you, but it will give you an insight into Sanna’s family dynamics and those will play into the overall arc of this fic. Yes, there is an arc. And a plot. Despite my best efforts.

Kanelbullar - twisted cinnamon buns

Also on AO3

Slowly, Sanna came back. She felt the softness of the blanket and the sensation of someone stroking her face before her eyes opened.

“Can you hear me Pet?” Loki asked softly.

“Yes Mistress,” Sanna answered dreamily, smiling up at her.

“My good girl. Our meal has arrived. Do you think you can sit up for me?”

Sanna eased herself up and shivered as the blanket slipped down. She pulled it back up and looked at her Mistress.

“It’s alright Pet. You can bring the blanket with you. It’s time to eat.”

Loki got off the bed and stood up, holding out a hand. Sanna took it, wobbling a little when she stood. Loki held her until she was steady, rubbing her back in small circles as they left the bedchamber.

“Thank you Mistress,” Sanna said as she wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself.

“You’ll be warm soon Pet,” Loki tucked a loose tendril of hair behind Sanna’s ear. “You used up a good deal of energy during your edging. Eating will help.”

“Um, Mistress? Before we eat I need to–” Sanna broke off, poking a hand out from the blanket and pointing across the sitting room.

“Of course, Pet.”

Sanna headed towards the bathing room to use it’s facilities while Loki sat on the divan to inspect the contents of the covered dishes on the table. She had just started cutting slices off a rolled joint of spit roasted mutton when Sanna came back out, wrapping the blanket snugly around herself again.

“That was quick,” Loki remarked when she sat down next to her.

“I was inspired, Mistress. The bathing room is rather cool, even with the shielding up.” She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them.

Loki reached out and took her Pet’s hands in hers.

“You are chilled,” she began to rub Sanna’s hands between her own. “Shall I light the fire? I never notice the cold myself, though I’ve heard Thor whine about it enough. You’d think we were on campaign in Jotunheim instead of camping in the forests on a hunt.”

The image of Prince Thor covered in snow and icicles made Sanna giggle.

“I’m alright Mistress. Truly.” Sanna took back her now warm hands and started making up her Mistress’s plate, cutting slices of bread for both of them. “I believe you are right and I just need to eat something. And it has been raining on and off since midday,” she looked out at the damp night and shivered a little under the blanket. “The weather can’t seem to decide if we’re in spring or summer.” The gentle afternoon showers of Garth’s prediction had given way to a cold, soaking rain once the sun had set.

Loki made a face. “All too soon it will be summer and nothing but heat, heat, and more heat.” She loathed the thought of summer, but it did give her an idea. “One day, we should go riding to one of the shaded pools that hide deep in the royal forest. Mmm… Stripping down and diving into fresh, cool water. Tell me Pet, can you ride? Or swim?”

Sanna paused from buttering the bread she’d just cut and turned to her Mistress.

“Hmm. Do you know, I don’t think I've ever been on a horse in my life. Although I do have a vague memory of trying to ride a goat once when I was very small. I remember being frustrated because it wouldn’t hold still long enough for me to get on…” Sanna paused, fiddling with the butter knife. “No. I’m sure I haven’t. We didn’t use them on the farm and none of the neighbors were horse breeders. We did have a rather old and rather surly grey pony that Old Frederick would use to pull the cart when he went up to the manor house for supplies. He was the only person in this realm that animal tolerated, it would bite everyone else that came near.” She resumed her task.

“And I could swim as a child, Dagna saw to that. I haven’t had much chance to since I left our house to serve Lady Audney. There was a wide, slow moving river not far from our farm. I used to go and sit in the shelter of a large tree on it’s banks whenever–” Sanna broke off.

“Whenever what Pet?” Loki paused and looked over. She could see her Pet was upset by the memory.

Sanna chose her next words carefully and blew out a breath.

“Whenever I’d run out of the house. It seemed like everyday I’d be scolded by our mother for one thing or another. Mostly for not getting my chores done properly. She would never let anyone be idle,” she paused and swallowed. Composing herself.

*****

Her mind was flooded with the memories of repeating tasks over and over again until they were done to her mother’s satisfaction. One particular memory –one she’d tried very hard to forget– came suddenly to mind. A memory of scrubbing the stone floor of their house one winter for almost the entire day. It was just before Yule. Her mother had been perpetually unsatisfied with her efforts, even ‘accidentally’ spilling things on the floor for her to clean up. Sanna’s back had ached. Her knees were bruised and her knuckles had cracked and bled. Her hands were numb from the water that had gone cold and she kept dropping the big scrubbing brush, making it clatter on the stones and drawing her mother’s attention to her.

When Dagna had come in from tending the animals outside and saw what had been going on, she’d been furious. Sanna would never forget the sound of her sister slapping their mother’s face and the horrible words they screamed at each other. Sanna had never heard her sister raise her voice in anger to anyone before. She had hidden under the table, curled on her side to make herself as small as possible until the row was over. The bucket she’d been using to scrub the floor had been knocked over near her at one point, but she’d been too afraid to move. She’d stayed still as the freezing water soaked her dress and hair. Wet, cold, and filthy. Hands pressed to her ears, sobbing, trying to drown out the noise. She still hated the sound of angry shouts and raised voices to this day.

Eventually their mother had left the house to go tell their father about what her sister had done and said. While she was gone, Dagna had coaxed Sanna into coming out from under the table. She’d filled the big bathing tub by the fire with warm water and and had helped her get into it, washing her gently and rubbing her sore back. Then her sister had helped to get her into a clean night dress and wrapped her in a blanket. Dagna applied a salve to the cracks on Sanna’s hands before feeding her and putting her to bed.

The whole time Sanna had been terrified and started at every sound, thinking it was their mother returning. She knew her sister must have been punished terribly for striking their mother– it was all Sanna’s fault– but she couldn’t remember how or what had happened for nearly the rest of that winter. At the end of the following spring Sanna had left the house to work for Lady Audney.

But her Mistress didn’t need to know any of that. Or that her mother’s 'scolding’ was usually accompanied by a blow of some kind. Sanna’s pride and her fear would never let her tell her sister, let alone her Mistress. She’d promised herself all those years ago that she would stay silent and do better, no matter what. Never to complain and create more trouble. She wasn’t about to break that promise now. And besides, it was over and done with and would probably just upset her Mistress.

*****

“When it became too much, too heavy to bear, I would run out of the house. No matter what direction I ran in, I always seemed to end up by the big tree near the river. Eventually Dagna would come and find me. Once my tears were dry, she’d take me back. Sometimes we’d go swimming in the river first if it was warm enough. She wanted me to know what to do in case I got too close to the bank and fell in.”

Loki’s face was unreadable as she said solemnly, “I would so very much like to meet your sister one day. It seems she was the only source of happiness or tenderness in your childhood.”

“Oh no Mistress! Not the only source. Our father was quite kind, when he could spare time for us. The farm keeps him very busy, though I now suspect some of that work is to keep him out of the house and away from mother. In the summer he would take us fishing at the river– I mean Dagna and me, Mother hated the river– and we’d laugh and scream and splash each other once the three of us were done hauling in the nets.” Sanna smiled at the memory. “We’d walk home smiling and laughing, soaking wet with that day’s catch.”

She was eager to tell happier memories, she’d had no one to tell them to since she’d left Lady Audney. Marit was sweet, but she had no interest in any form of rural life and had quickly changed the subject whenever Sanna had mentioned her time in the country side.

“I remember one time, Father took me with him on a trip to a neighboring farm. The man kept bees and we went to collect a big crock of honey in exchange for some of our hay. I must have been very young. Probably around the same time I tried to ride the goat. Father lifted me up into his lap and kept me from falling off as he drove us over there and back. He even let me have a spoonful of honey on the way home and made me promise not to tell Mother.”

Sanna looked at her Mistress from under her lashes. “That’s where my taste for it comes from. It’s always been a sweet, secret treat.”

“Mmm… Perhaps I should keep a small jar of it here and let you lick it off me as a reward for your obedience?” Loki purred.

Her Pet blushed a bright red and squirmed on the divan while whispering, “I wouldn’t object if you offered it in any form, Mistress.”

Loki had finished cutting up the meat and divided it between their plates.

“Good to know. Open.” Loki popped a piece of the mutton into Sanna’s mouth.

“Mmm… This is almost as good as Dagna’s. She uses garlic in the dredge.”

“Alright. Now I must meet your sister.”

They both burst into laughter. Once the plates were ready, Loki pulled Sanna over to straddle her lap and tucked the blanket around her. Holding up a bite of meat to her Pet’s lips, Loki asked absently, “Perhaps I shall have Brynhild create a robe for you? Would you like one Pet? In gold and sapphire blue silk, I think? Jewel tones seem to suit you.”

Chewing and swallowing the meat gave Sanna time to think. She offered her Mistress one of the roasted vegetables pieces from her plate and said, “I will wear anything you wish me to, Mistress. I’ve never had one before.”

“I suspect there are a lot of things you’ve never had before, and I mean to give them to you.” Loki promised solemnly, making her Pet blush and duck her head.

“Now Pet, tell me.” Loki held up more food to Sanna’s mouth. “How was your day?”

They fed each other. Sanna spoke of meeting Garth and being reminded of how much she loved planting things and watching them grow. How far she had gotten through the play her Mistress had recommended and what she thought of it thus far. Her initial nerves at being summoned to tea with the Allmother and her relief and joy at finding her Mistress’s mother to be kind and attentive. Loki listen to it all with rapt attention, asking questions and laughing where it was appropriate until the meal was finished.

_________________________________________________________

“So you got on well with my mother then, Pet? Not frightened of her anymore?” Loki teased popping the last bite of her kanelbullar into her mouth and licking her sticky fingers before wiping them on a damp cloth.

Sanna, slightly indignant, finished her own and sucked at her fingers as she replied, “Well, she is the queen after all. And I wouldn’t say I was afraid of her so much as afraid of disappointing her.”

She wiped them off and stood up, gathering up the used plates and cutlery before refilling her Mistress’s goblet and her own with wine and getting comfortable again. She leaned against her Mistress and tucked her feet up under the blanket on the divan. Sanna wasn’t chilled any longer, but the material was soft and felt wonderful against her skin. Loki wrapped her arm around her Pet, pulling the girl close and put her own feet up on the table, long pale legs exposed. She used her seidr to send the uneaten food and dirty plates back to the kitchen. They sat in a comfortable silence, sipping wine.

After a moment or two, Sanna spoke. “The Allmother is so kind. I confess, I do want her to like me. Oh did I tell you, I mentioned to her that I had a wish to improve my stitching and she’s promised to have one of her handmaidens teach me. And I’m to come to tea with her again in a three days, if you can spare me that is.” Sanna looked at her Mistress with pleading eyes.

Loki sighed and toyed with a tendril of her Pet’s hair that had escaped it’s plait, wrapping it around her fingers. “Oh, I suppose I can get by without you for one afternoon.”

Sanna leaned up and kissed Loki’s cheek and settled back down against her. “Thank you, Mistress.”

The comfortable silence resumed.

After a few more minutes had passe, in which Sanna had nearly been lulled into sleep by the good food, strong wine, and the calming presence of her Mistress, she glanced up and saw her Mistress with her head tilted back and her eyes shut.

“Are you tired?” she inquired.

Loki opened her eyes and looked at her. “Hmm? No Pet, not really. But my head does ache slightly. I think I read for too long and sat too still in the Archive today. My body is no longer used hours of inactivity. As a child I could sit and read for hours without noticing the time pass. Now, what was once a joy has become a chore and I’m already starting to resent it.”

“Perhaps you’re striving to achieve too much too fast Mistress? You have years before you are expected to take on your new role. There’s no need to push yourself so hard.” Sanna chided gently.

“Oh, that’s not what I was doing Pet. After I spoke with the Allmother, a new idea came into my head and I put away all of my work to start a new project. It concerns a school of seidr I’ve woefully never bothered to learn. Tell me Pet, did Lady Audney ever speak to you of her role at court?”

“Lady Audney?” Sanna started at the sudden change of topics. “Well, no. Not really. She taught me courtesy and what would be expected of me as a handmaiden to a Lady of the court. She rarely talked of her life before. I think it reminded her of her son, the one she’d lost, and that always gave her pain. She couldn’t bear to hear his name said aloud and never used it herself. She’d just say 'my son’, and even then it was usually in reference to something he’d done as a child, never as a man grown. I can’t recall her ever speaking of Lord Morten. We got supplies once a fortnight from the manor and I know they were from him.”

“Do you know what happened to him Pet? The son that died, I mean.” Loki asked.

“I know he was killed in a terrible accident. That’s all anyone would say. But what does Lady Audney have to do with divination?”

“Quite a lot according to my mother. She wasn’t a seeress herself, but she could inspire and strengthen visions in others who were. Do you recall yesterday, when we went into my storage area downstairs and you found my old cradle? Do you remember what were you thinking of when you touched it?”

Sanna reached out and set her now empty goblet on the table and sat up, turning to face her Mistress. Loki did the same, stretching her arm across the back of the divan.

“Well I– I don’t know. I was thinking of a lot of things then. Mostly what you must have looked like as a baby–” Sanna broke off and flushed a dull pink.

“What else Pet? I know you’re holding something back. I can tell by the blush on your face,” Loki prodded her.

Sanna tugged the blanket back around her shoulders, as if trying to armor herself against her embarrassment. “I… I was thinking,” her blush got deeper and stretched from her hairline down to her chest. “I was thinking about… what it would be like… to… to have a baby. Your baby Mistress.” She ducked her head and bit her lip at her guilty admission.

Loki removed her hand from the back of the divan and lifted Sanna’s chin to look at her. She took both of her Pet’s hands in her own.

“What exactly Pet? Being pregnant or nursing or rocking it in the cradle? What image formed in your mind?” Loki pushed again. “It’s important.”

Sanna heaved a sigh. “I think it was mostly just what our baby would look like and rocking it to sleep.”

“No image of nursing it at your breast?”

“No. Why? What is so important about this?” She was embarrassed and uncomfortable at the unending questions.

“I had a vision while we were down there. When I turned and saw you touching the cradle I staggered for a moment, do you remember?” At Sanna’s nod she continued, “I didn’t say anything then, because I wasn’t sure what had happened. I’ve never had visions before, or any aptitude for divination so I’ve never studied it, but I know now that I had a vision of you.”

“Me?” Sanna squeaked. She was dumbfounded, her eyes were large as she stared at her Mistress.

“Yes Pet. You were in your little room and sitting in the chair I sent up here. I saw you from the doorway. The cradle was at your feet but it had been freshly polished. The room had been painted and was filled with the things needed to care for an infant. You were nursing a black haired babe at your breast. You looked older than you do now. I heard you humming a soft melody and saw you smile at the child. It was the same smile you had on your face while touching the cradle. That’s why I asked what you were thinking of.”

Sanna was speechless and kept staring. The blush had left her face and she had gone very pale.

“I’ve only just started to research the subject and I still have much to learn, but I believe you may have the same ability as Lady Audney. You might be the reason for the vision, not just the subject of it.”

“Me? What? No! I don’t– How? How can I–” Sanna sputtered. She was dumbfounded. Had all the reading today somehow damaged her Mistress’s mind?

Loki continued on as if her Pet hadn’t spoken.

“I used my seidr on you, the first night you slept beside me. Do you remember a dream of us sitting under a tree beside a river? My telling you to raise your skirts? You woke in the middle of the night and I found you freezing yourself in the bathing pool. I used a spell to enter your dreams.”

Sanna’s blush came rushing back at the memory of the dream and what had followed it. Of her Mistress pleasuring her in the safe place of her childhood. She wasn’t sure whether to be angry or ask her to do it again… But her Mistress was still talking.

“…and that’s why I had to know what you were thinking of. If the same images were in your mind and mine, it might have been a hold over from that spell, or some accident of my seidr and not truly a vision at all–”

“Wait! Just, just wait a moment! Please?” Sanna pulled her hands from Loki’s grasp and put them to her own head. “Does this mean I am going to have your child at some point in the future?”

“I– Honestly? I don’t know. I think what I saw was a vision of a possible future, not necessarily the future we will have. Probably. Like I said, I haven’t ever properly studied the subject. And it’s not something I can walk up to the Allmother, or any other seer, and just ask. Not even as a hypothetical question.”

Sanna slumped back against the divan, her mind whirling. Abilities she might have and hadn’t known existed. A possible baby in her future– well she wanted that… didn’t she? It was too much to take in. Her head throbbed.

“Mistress, can we please talk about something else? Anything else?” Sanna pleaded and rubbed at her temples. Loki’s hands replaced her and she sent a tiny burst of seidr through her Pet’s head, soothing it as Frigga had done for her earlier in the Archive.

“Of course Pet. Would you like me to distract you from your thoughts?” Loki had moved the book of plays her Pet had been reading off the table when the servant had brought in their meal. It was sitting next to her, half tucked under one of the cushions on the divan. She pulled it out and held it up. “Shall I read to you?”

“I thought you’d had enough of that for today?” Sanna was beginning to feel like herself again, and her instinct of caring for her Mistress was making her feel less stupefied.

“Well, there is one other thing I can think of.” Loki shot a lecherous smile at her Pet and offered a hand to her. Sanna didn’t hesitate to take it.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #yes mistress #angryowlet #chapter 29

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jennacat84 · 5 years

Text

Honest-tea

This fic is entirely inspired by a dream I had of the last scene with Ieyasu and MItsunari. This is my first M/M fic, so if anything is really bad or cringy please let me know. Same if you like it. I can’t improve if I don’t know what works and what doesn’t. Guest appearances by Mitsuhide, Masamune, and an off-screen trio of Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and the Princess.

Ikemen Sengoku

Ieyasu x Mitsunari

NSFW

2975 words

Could be considered dub-con.

Mitsuhide had everything set.

Masamune was hosting another of his enforced dinner parties to make sure they were all eating. It had been far too easy to distract Lord Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and the Princess. A few words casually dropped near his Lord and he was making sure neither of his loves were leaving his tenshu until dawn. Possibly not until the following one.

He had planted to proper reading materials in Mitsunari’s stack earlier in the week. Hopefully he’d read it and found it interesting enough to retain it.

He had the sake ready for Masamune and tea for Ieyasu. He had left the tin of salve on the table next to his seat. All that was left was to put everything into action and hope that they took the opportunity presented to them.

———–

Masamune swept into his small hall bearing platters piled high with food. All perfectly prepared and mouthwatering to any who paid attention. As he sat them down he noticed several people missing from the guest list. “Where are Hideyoshi and our lovely Princess?”

“Lord Nobunaga has them shut up in the tenshu with him. Apparently there were ‘urgent castle matters’ that he needed them for” the sarcasm practically dripped from every one of Ieyasu’s words.

“I think it’s nice that they’re spending so much time together. Lord Hideyoshi has never been so happy. Though he is more tired of late.” Mitsunari’s cheerful tones brought a smile to everyone’s face save Ieyasu, who only scowled deeper.

“I can’t imagine why he’s so tired.”

“Now, now Ieyasu, no need to be petty.” Mitsuhide chuckled. “I know I for one have been reaping the benefits of Hideyoshi’s current distraction. Enjoy it while it lasts. He’ll be back sticking his nose into everyone else’s business soon enough.”

Masamune laughed at the three of them. “True enough. In that case I hope everyone brought their appetite, I cooked for six, not four.”

Sitting down Masamune began serving everyone. Conversation was light, no talk of war, but Mitsuhide had plenty of gossip to keep them distracted. Masamune never noticed when he switched their cups. Knocking back a deep draft of sake before the odor even reached his nose.

“Damnit Mitsuhide! Again!” He was already stumbling as he tried to rise to get to Mitsuhude.

“Where’s the fun if I don’t at least try?” Mitsuhide stood gracefully and placed a restraining hand on Masamune’s sword arm. “Here, to make it up to you I’ll even get you to bed, this time. I won’t leave you to sleep on the table.”

“You think that will make me forgive you?” his words were slurred, and he was barely standing.

“No, but I think it will give me an excuse to leave.” Mitsuhide swung one of Masamune’s arms over his shoulder as he wrapped his now free hand around the big mans waist to support him “Finish up without me, my hunger for the night has been sated.” he called over his shoulder as he went out the door. Leaning Masamune agaisnt the wall Mitsuhide quickly closed and barred the door. That should keep them in. Hopefully Ieyasu had drank enough of his tea by now. Once again picking up Masamune, the two headed off to the one eyed lords bedchambers.”You might not think so now, but you’ll be thanking me in the morning.”

The only response from Masamune was an angry grunt.

———–

“I do hope Lord Masamune gets some rest, he started to fall asleep so quickly.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes as he sipped his nearly empty tea. “I’m sure he’ll be fine come morning, can’t say the same for that snake tomorrow afternoon.”

“I was so thoughtful of Lord Mitsuhide to assist him to his bedchamber” Mitsunari’s free hand drifted towards the book he had brought with him. A fascinating volume on naval tactics he had obtained from the Portuguese.

“If you’re to be my sole dinner companion could you at least pretend to pay attention rather than ignore me with a book again?” Ieyasu stabbed at his fish in irritation.

“Oh dear, my apologies Lord Ieyasu. May I inquire as to what you have been reading of late? Lord Nobunaga recently acquired several new trestices on Western Medicine that were quite fascinating.”

“I’ve been occupied with matters at home. Not that you would know anything about that.” Ieyasu ran a hand under his collar. (Was it getting warmer in here?)

“No, I wouldn’t, not having lands to manage does give me more time to devote to my studies, and to supporting Lord Hideyoshi.” Mitsunari took another bite, as always Masamune’s food was delicious, but not as easy to eat as the dried rice he usually had. “Are you alright, Lord Ieyasu? You’re looking a little flushed.”

“I’m fine” another stab of his chopsticks to his fish.

“If you’re certain.”

“I am.”

MInutes passed without a word spoken between them. Ieyasu began to sweat. He tugged at his collar again, and shrugged his haori off, folding it and setting it aside. (Why was it so hot? It made no sense. Mitsunari looked fine. Why was he sweating?)

“Lord Ieyasu? Are you certain you’re alright?” Mitsunari shifted over to place his hand on Ieyasu’s forehead. “Are you fevered?”

“No!” Ieyasu grabbed Mitsunari’s hand “yes” he shifted his grip until he twined their fingers “maybe?”

“Let me check.” Mitsunari leaned his head down and touched his forehead against Ieyasu’s.

They both sat there, frozen for a moment. Until Ieyasu moved. Tilting his head up and pressing a quick kiss against Mitsunari’s lips.

“Lord Ieyasu?”

“Why are you so oblivious Mitsunari?”

“What? I don’t understand?”

“Of course you don’t.” Ieyasu sighed and moved back, keeping his grip on Mitsunari’s hand.

“If you tell me, I can try.”

“And what would even be the point? You’ll still drive me crazy.” Ieyasu slapped his free hand against his mouth. Where had any of that come from? Why was he saying this? Why had he let himself kiss Mitsunari?

“Lord Ieyasu,” Mitsunari laid his hand over their entwined ones. “You’re acting strangely. Would you like me to walk you back to your manor? Or I think Lord Masamune keeps a futon here, in case he falls asleep during dinner” Mitsunari trailed off as Ieyasu gripped his hand tighter.

“No. Just, just stay here. I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

Mitsunari settled onto the floor next to Ieyasu, still holding his hand. He looked at Ieyasu. He was flushed, and his normal disaffected expression was gone, replaced with tension and confusion. All of which only furthered Mitsunari’s own worry. He ran his thumb over Ieyasu’s knuckles in an attempt to soothe him.

“You are far too kind Mitsunari” Ieyasu’s voice was nearly monotone, lacking all but the slightest hint of sadness. “You allow everyone to walk right over you. To dismiss you. They all but spit in your face. And you smile, and bow, and provide every courtesy imaginable. And it pisses me off.” He began to growl, the anger he kept caged within him breaking out. “Have you no idea your own worth? What you would be capable of with a little more effort and training?”

“Not everyone dismisses me, Lord Ieyasu.” Mitsunari’s voice was barely above a whisper, but grew stronger as he continued. “Lord Hideyoshi, and Lord Nobunaga see me. As do Lord Mitsuhide and Lord Masamune. What do I need the acknowledgement of lesser men for?”

“And me. I see you. I always see you. And that pisses me off even more.” Ieyasu ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “And as much as you praise me, I don’t think you really see me.” Ieyasu’s grip tightened again. “I feel like all you see is the man I project, the mask I wear, not” he hesitated “not me. Not the me I want you to see. Just you.”

“You’re wrong. I do see you. I see the pain, and I see the strong decisive warrior that your past has made you. I also see your kindness.” Mitsunari lifted their joined hands and kissed across Ieyasu’s knuckles. “I see the armor you wear in the way you speak, in how you comport yourself with all but Nobunaga.” He reached up with his free hand and cupped Ieyasu’s cheek. “I see you, Ieyasu.” Their eyes met, saying more than words ever could. In that moment they did truly see each other, and knew that this moment, this one moment could change everything.

Both men leaned forward, meeting in the middle in a tender kiss. Ieyasu threaded the fingers of his free hand through Mitsunari’s unruly locks, his tongue tracing the other man’s lips, asking for entry, which Mitsunari gladly gave. Time seemed to stand still as they sat there, enjoying the feel of the one they had longed for, there, with them, and not pushing them away.

Mitsunari pulled away first, pressing his forehead against Ieyasu’s. “Are you certain? You’ve been acting oddly all evening, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.” Fear warred with love and lust in his tone.

“I’m sure. I’ve wanted you with me for so long.” He gripped Mitsunari’s hair tighter. “I’m not sure why it’s all coming out tonight, but I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I don’t want to lie to myself.” Ieyasu tipped MItsunari’s head back slightly and kissed him again. Fiercer this time, deeper. Trying to convey with his actions what he was unable to in words.

Mitsunari met Ieyasu’s passion with his own. Leaning into the kiss, moving his hand from Ieyasu’s cheek to his neck, sweeping across his shoulder and pulling his kimono with it.

Ieyasu kept his grip in Mitsunari’s hair, but finally released the hand he’d been holding since that first kiss. Pushing Mitsunari’s kimono from his shoulders, and allowing his free hand to roam the other man’s chest, finding places that made him shudder. Mitsunari used both of his hands to free Ieyasu of his obi, his kimono pooling around his waist. Breaking their kiss he moved down Ieyasu’s neck, kissing, licking, and sucking as he went. Ieyasu moaned as Mitsunari found a sweet spot along his collarbone.

Both men’s hands were constantly in motion, exploring the other, looking for and finding all the places that made the other shiver, moan, or tremble at their touch. Both bared to the other, Ieyasu found Mitsunari’s cock first. He wrapped his hand around it, tracing his thumb over the head. Mitsunari moaned and leaned his head against Ieyasu’s shoulder. “Lord Ieyasu”

“No, Mitsunari.” Ieyasu was curt in his interruption. “No more ‘lord’. I am Ieyasu, as you are Mitsunari.”

The blush that flushed over Mitsunari in that instant went from the tips of his ears all the way to his toes. “Ieyasu,” he whispered “I like that.” And he took Ieyasu’s face in both his hands and kissed him until they were both gasping for breath. “My Ieyasu.” Mitsunari’s smile was so radient that Ieyasu had to look away.

“My Mitsunari” and he began to toy with Mitsunari in earnest. Finding every way he could to make the other man writhe beneath him.

Mitsunari felt his climax coming, and placed his hands on Ieyasu’s wrists. “Wait, stop. Not yet, I need to make you feel good first.”

Mitsunari rolled Ieyasu to his back, the shorter man acquiescing, but still running his hands over all of Mitsunari that he could get to.

Mitsunari briefly looked up, then reached for the table, grasping a small jar that looked familiar. Opening it he was sure. “Ieyasu, I believe we’ve been set up. This is the same ointment that Lord Hideyoshi carries with him all the time recently.”

“What?”

“He carries a jar of this with him, in case Lord Nobunaga wishes his company.” Mitsunari almost giggled. “Lucky us, that the one who set us up seems to have thought of everything.” He dipped two fingers into the jar, and used the thumb of the same hand to liberally spread the ointment over them.

It was Ieyasu’s turn to flush. “While I knew, I didn’t need to know.”

“My apologies, Ieyasu. I shall be more circumspect.” With that Mitsunari leaned down and captured Ieyasu’s lips once again. Driving all thought but those of each other from each of their minds.

Slowly Mitsunari worked his way down from Ieyasu’s lips, to his shoulders, to his chest. Pausing there to give ample attention to his, surprisingly, sensitive nipples. Kissing each scar he could find as he made his way to Ieyasu’s waiting cock. He took it in one hand before lightly kissing the tip. He used his tongue to trace up and down along the length of Ieyasu’s shaft, coating it in his saliva, before taking it into his mouth. Ieyasu groaned and fisted both hands in Mitsunari’s hair, his hips moving slightly to meet him.

As Mitsunari lavished Ieyasu’s cock with his tongue and lips he also took his ointment covered fingers and began to trace them around Ieyasu’s ass. He gently slipped first one and then the second inside Ieyasu, pausing if he tensed. Then finally a third finger joined the first two, brushing against his sweet spot, and Mitsunari began to stretch Ieyasu’s ass in earnest, while continuing his attentions to his cock.

“Mitsunari, I’m going to cum” Ieyasu’s warning was too late, as he burst and spilled his seed down Mitsunari’s throat. Mitsunari choked a bit, coming off of Ieyasu’s cock with a sputtering cough. “Oh no! Are you alright?” The alarm was clear in Ieyasu’s voice.

“I’m fine Ieyasu, you just surprised me. I’ve never done this before.” Mitsunari used his free hand to wipe his mouth. He leaned back down and kissed Ieyasu once again, sharing the man’s taste with him. “Are you ready for me?” He whispered the question against Ieyasu’s lips.

“I, I don’t know. I’ve never done this” he gestured at the two of them “before either.”

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

Mitsunari to more of the ointment and generously applied it to his own cock. Ieyasu’s eyes were glued to the motions of Mitsunari’s hand as he stroked himself before placing the tip of his cock to Ieyasu’s ass. “I’ll go slow, just relax. Like you did earlier while I was tasting you.”

Ieyasu let out a long shuddering breath “I’ll try.”

Ever so slowly Mitsunari began to press his way inside. He massaged Ieyasu’s ass cheeks as he went, then moved on hand back to his hardening member. Gently stroking the other man back to full hardness, distracting him from Mitsunari’s slow, rocking, gentle invasion.

Once he was fully seated he paused, giving Ieyasu time to adjust, while continuing to to stroke his cock and toy with his nipples. Ieyasu groaned at the feeling of Mitsunari inside him. He felt full, and tight, and needy.

“Please, Mitsunari. It’s OK, you can move. I need you to move.” Ieyasu cupped Mitsunari’s cheek with so much tenderness it nearly made the other man cry.

“I love you Ieyasu.” And with those few simple words he began to move. Slowly at first, then picking up speed as his body began to chase it’s own release. He looked down at the beautiful man beneath him and gave thanks to every god he could think of for bringing them to this moment. This beautiful joining. Seeing each other of who they truly were, rather then the men they had to pretend to be.

“Mitsunari, I,” Ieyasu came again, his seed spilling across his abdomen. His release caused him to clamp down on Mitsunari, buried deep within him, causing the other man’s release as well.

“Ieyasu” Mitsunari called his name as he spilled his seed. Then leaned down to kiss him, collapsing on top of Ieyasu. “Give me a moment and I can get a hand towel as soon as I locate my clothes.”

“Take your time” Ieyasu stroked his hand up and down Mitsunari’s back as both men basked in the afterglow.

———–

After a time Mitsunari did get up and get his hand towel to clean them both up. In silence they both got redressed, and pulled out Masamune’s spare futon. Wordlessly they climbed into it together, holding each other tight, both knowing that this could be the only time, but hoping not.

“How did you learn to do all that?” Ieyasu finally asked as Mitsunari was drifting off to sleep.

“Hmm? Oh. There were a few unusual books mixed into my stack earlier this week. I’m not sure where they came from, or how they got there, but they were interesting enough that I didn’t immediately forget them.” He finished with a yawn.

“And someone left exactly the type of ointment we would need too. And made sure we were alone. And I’m fairly certain there was something in my tea.” Ieyasu mused “This has all the hallmarks of that snake.”

“I’ll have to thank him next time I see him.” Mitsunari mumbled, nearly asleep.

Ieyasu grunted “I’m not thanking that snake for anything. Ever.” Mitsunari did not respond having fallen asleep in Ieyasu’s arms.

Ieyasu stroked Mitsunari’s hair as he slept with his head pressed close to Ieyasu’s heart. This night had not gone as he had expected at all. But he couldn’t say he had any regrets right now. In the morning, when the tea wore off he hoped that he still felt that way. Because now that he had been honest, not only with Mitsunari, but with himself, he didn’t think he could lie about his feelings anymore.”I love you too, Mitsunari.”

———-

Mitsuhide walked past the room one more time. Everything was quiet this time. He shook his head and kept walking. A secret smile on his lips. All they’d needed was opportunity and a little honesty.

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