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jeongvision · 3 years

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unconditional love

synopsis. if you were to ask yourself, ‘when did you realize that you were in love with lee jeno?’, you wouldn’t know how to respond. in fact, there was never a moment where you weren’t in love with him. but what happens when he asks you the same question? you might have to take a rain check, literally.

pairing. best friend! lee jeno ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, childhood friends au, friends to lovers au

word count. 1.6k

warnings. none! but highkey though this made me fall in love with jeno :(

song. walking in the rain by chancellor & younha

author’s note. happy birthday @sehunniepotwrites! not sure if this is fluffy enough for you but hope you enjoy this lil blurb! cheers to another one of your milestones and many more in life!

ps. there are two lines in this fic that are from a poem written by e.e. cummings! not going to say which ones or the title of the poem bc it might spoil future plans i have oop

You were one of the few fortunate people on the planet to still be friends with someone from your childhood. To have so many worthwhile memories shared with someone must be cherished at all cost. And many times were you afraid that Jeno might get tired of being friends with you, but being the ethereal person he is, he casted all your worries away and assured you that he had no plans on leaving you any time soon.

And perhaps somewhere down the line, the love you had for him went far beyond what people would label as ‘friendship,’ and dared enough to say, you were in love with him. If a stranger were to describe how you looked whenever you were with him, many would describe you to be enamored.

And if you happened to be enamored for your childhood friend, then so be it.

You fear no fate, for he is your fate, your sweet.

“Can I ask you something, y/n?”

Currently, you two are sat outside of a café near your home: 7 Dreams. It was a beautiful day out, the sun warming the air around you, flutters of clouds scattered throughout the blue sky. You expressed your desires to Jeno earlier that you wanted to sit out on the tables they placed outside their shop. It has been a little chilly from the past few days with occasional rain showers here and there, and you want nothing more than to relish in the warm weather after days of being forced into the solitude of your home.

“Sure. What is it?”

But before you could take a sip of your green tea latte, you’re thrown off by his question.

“When did you first fall in love with me?”

Your fingers stilled at the ceramic handle of your mug. You didn’t know what brought that question to the latter’s mind. Granted, you two have had your fair shares of flirtations and courtship, but never acted beyond past it. It was all done with jest, as you two would put it. You could easily lie to him, saying that you only saw him as a friend, but never to yourself; your heart betrays you with palpitations and inclinations for your best friend from just the mere thought of him.

You forced a stoic expression on your face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs out a breath from your response.

“Y/n, there’s no point in trying to hide it. I’ve known you for almost my whole life, so I know when you’re lying to me. The look you give me is different from how you looked at Johnny when you two were together.”

A snort escapes from your lips.

“And what does my ex have to do with this?” You could see a teasing grin poke through his demeanor, prompting an eye roll from you.

“So you admit that you do look at me differently then.”

“No, Jeno, I am not admitting to anything. And even if I did look at you differently, how would you know if I was in love with you?”

“Because you would’ve denied it by now. And right now, you’re just stepping around the question.”

You squint your eyes a little, to which Jeno does the same back.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy now? How about when I asked you for the name of the person you liked a couple years back?”

And so, his eyebrows rise a little at your bold question, head tilted a little to the side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he counters.

You couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh, your head shaking from disbelief.

“Oh, don’t fake naivety, Jeno. Senior prom, when we were each other’s date because you ‘didn’t receive any prom-posals from anyone’, when I knew fully well that you received many of them from both guys AND girls. You just denied them all.”

You could clearly play the memory out in the back of your head, a movie projector showcasing your youthful-self slow dancing with a bashful Jeno in the middle of the dance floor, your arms wrapped his neck and his hands on your waist. Both of your feet moved in sync with one another, eyes searching within the depths of each other’s soul, oblivious of the whispers and stares around you that spoke nothing short but envy for the sight that laid before them is one worth capturing.

“We were dancing to Hearts Don’t Break Around Here. You know, the one by Ed Sheeran?” you followed.

His smile grows fond at the memory of it.

“Oh, we’re in love, aren’t we?”

“Jeno!” You give a light slap on his forearm and he laughs at your response. “Now is not the time to start saying song lyrics!”

It’s a wonder how you managed to last this long from professing your feelings out to him. You two did almost everything together and experienced many firsts together. First road trip together, first beach date together - you even experienced your first pet purchase together. So what’s stopping you from confessing to him?

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that I have a feeling that you’re in love with me,” you said.

There’s a glint in his eyes filled with mirth.

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because of the way you look at me?”

“And it’s the same way as how you look at me?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure.”

“So you admit that you’re in love with me.”

Before you could continue on with your playful banter, you stopped yourself short. You take a moment to process his words in. Wait, did he just? Your words get caught in your throat. Did he just admit that he feels the same way towards me?

He notices your shock and uses this moment to his advantage to continue on, each word laced with certainty.

“If you’re saying that the way you look at me is the same as how I look at you, then that means that you are in love with me, because I don’t know how else to say that I am very much in love with you, y/n.”

Heat resonates all throughout your body. Your heart beats erratically and you’re at loss of words. Flustered you are, but who wouldn’t be? For years, you’ve pinned after your best friend, hoping for the day to come where he reciprocates your feelings. You had an inkling that he had some sort of romantic feelings for you as he always seemed to reject everyone’s relationship proposal, justifying his reasoning to be that there’s already someone he likes.

“Who is it?”

“An angel.”

“What’s their name?”

“Something pretty.”

“Jeno.”

“Y/n.”

And you just drop the conversation like that, frustrated by his vague answers. But nevertheless, you could never get tired of him. Something about him gravitates you towards him, the feelings you’ve harbored in secrecy burning brighter than ever whenever you’re by his side. He’s not perfect, but to you, he’s the best thing to appear in your life. From the crinkling of his eyes to the sweet smiles of his lips to the red tint of his neck and ears.

You want no world, for he is your entire world, your true.

“Look, it’s raining.”

Breaking out of your reverie, you look up to Jeno to see him peering out on the streets. You follow suit to see raindrops falling onto the pavement. It slowly gains momentum, growing heavier and louder with each passing second. Fortunately, you two are shielded from the rain with the veranda attached to the cafe. The sun peaks through the crevices of the clouds, still lighting the world around you with a subtle rainbow blossoming up into the spring sky.

You hear Jeno let out a laugh, bringing your attention back to him. There’s a wistful smile on his face when he asks you, “Remember when we were little, we would always run out in the rain on the concrete and just jump around? Pretend that we were in some kind of movie?”

You mirror his expression, your mind replaying a distant memory you shared with him.

“Our parents would always yell at us for that, saying we’ll get sick if we don’t stop.”

Your gaze trails back out onto the pavements. Then, you felt an itch in your fingers, an itch in your feet. Not literally, but you have this sudden urge to move. To dance. To celebrate. To relive those moments once more.

It’s almost as if the stars were aligned at that moment and heard your wishes, because you see Jeno get up from his seat and take a step forward and immerse himself out into the rain. His entire figure instantly gets drenched from the falling raindrops, not caring for a single second that he might catch a cold from his actions. Before you could call out to him, he looks back at you with a grin, and perhaps it might be your most favorite accessory he wears on himself.

He offers his hand out to you.

“May I have this dance, ma chérie?”

You’re taken back to the same distant memory again. Every single time, without fail, young Jeno would always ask for your hand to dance with him under the rain, to which you would always oblige with, “Well, of course mon cher.” But this time, you decide to switch it up a little.

You stand up from your seat and step closer to your best friend, a push away from falling victim to the rain with him. Your pupil flourishes with adoration for the man that stands before you.

“Only if you hold onto my hand, mon cher.”

He raises an eyebrow at your proposition. Amused he is, for there is a sliver of smirk adorned on his lips.

“Is that a threat, ma chérie?”

If Jeno were to ask you again when you first fell in love with him...

“It’s an invitation, mon cher.”

… you would say that you were always in love with him.

“If it’s like that, then I’d never let you go.”

#jeno #nct jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #jeno x oc #lee jeno #nct #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #lee jeno scenarios #lee jeno imagines #lee jeno fluff

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years

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Hello! I hope you are having a good day/night. May I ask for axis and allies plus spain, romano and prussia speaking to their s/o in their native language? Thank you very much! -Humble Anon💕

A very good morning/afternoon/evening to you as well, lovely!

When I began brainstorming these, I kept approaching this ask with the thought in mind that the S/O's first language is not the same as that of the Nation's, and aren't quite completely fluent as of yet. It made it a little bit easier for me to write, and offered me just a little more leeway to daydream. ^_^;

America:

Alfred really only does so when he's super tired, stumbling into the kitchen with bedhead to grab his first five cups of coffee, half-flopping on you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek- ruined by his yawn- accent stronger than normal as he rumbles out a good morning, asks how you slept. He rambles lightly about his weird-ass dreams, making you smile just from his annunciations. At some point, he remembers to start translating, swapping over to the dialect you're most familiar with mid-sentence.

Canada:

Oddly enough, Matthew plays Language Tag more frequently than Al, but more often than not, it's usually an unrefined Franglish that has always irritated Francis and Arthur. (He enjoys this fact, just a little.) Around you, however, it really only flares up in moments where he's just so overwhelmed and in awe, taken aback by how much he's in love with you. Most of his petnames for you are in English, but those moments where you're both spending a lazy evening in bed, he'll happily shower you with all kinds of cheesey compliments in French, teasingly poking your nose every time you try to get him to translate.

China:

Yao has a habit of slipping back to Chinese on a whim, honestly oblivious to the fact most of the time. You've noticed it gets significantly worse whenever he's stressed, and you've learnt some very colourful nicknames for the Others over the years because of it. Despite his seemingly incessant need to pace while venting, you always manage to coax him into your arms, steadily working your fingers across his back, easy out the knots that had been plaguing him. Meetings always brought him stress, but after a good rant and a few moments of your grounding touch, he's sighing away all remaining agitation, slowly bringing himself back to you and apologising for the slip.

England:

One of Arthur's greater strengths comes in linguistics. While he would much rather prefer a courtship with an English speaker, he's not going to deny himself happiness just because of a silly little language barrier. He generally tries to keep everything on common ground, but his nicknames for you, and some of his more scandalising compliments, are murmurred in English. He always keeps it quiet, an intimacy reserved only for you. There's many a "dearest" and "darling" when first waking up in the morning, a languid greeting for the coming day. (Also, he swears mostly in English, so be careful if you decide to borrow any of his vocabulary.)

France:

Francis never hesitates to prattle in French; it's second nature to him. Sometimes, he'll hop between both yours and his preferred dialects several times in a single sentence. You know it's just part of who he is, and while it can be annoying some days, it is helping you improve your own fluency. There are also moments when he makes you weak, his expression uncharacteristically sincere, hands carefully clasping your own. He hums out a soft phrase, one you still haven't fully translated, leaning closer to caress your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, any number of praises passing his lips.

Germany:

Ludvig, since Day One, has tried his best to make sure you're comfortable around him, and part of that is him keeping firmly to the language you are most familiar with. When coming across words he may not be entirely familiar with, or saying a more complicated phrase, his accent may sometimes come out a bit thicker than would be normal. The only time he really slips into German is when he's on the phone with folks from his government. You don't mean to eavesdrop on the latter, but you do enjoy how much deeper his voice tends to get when he's being "professional." Secretly though, you have to admit his voice when he sleeptalks is your favourite of them all.

Japan:

Kiku constantly, and often unnecessarily, goes out of his way to make sure that you're comfortable, and despite your arguing against it, one of his ways of trying to do so is to only stick the language you both share. Frankly, you love hearing him speak Japanese, even though you really only hear it when he's at the store, and sometimes to the servers during date night. You love how gentle his voice is, his accent adding almost a sweetness to his words. Lately, you've been debating how to tell him that you'd like to hear it more, but for now you savour the little pieces you've collected over the past few months.

Prussia:

You learnt some time ago that Gilbert quietly speaking in German actually helped you fall asleep significantly easier. For that reason, he primarily only does so while either headed to bed, or whenever you're spending an afternoon together in the library. He'll sometimes read to you, but mostly he tends to ramble. You only understand a handful of the things he's saying and assume that he's regaling you with tales of days long past. In reality, he's running through his checklist for car parts he wants to fix, complaining about something stupid Roderich did back in 1648, and most often- when you're on the cusp of sleep, breathing deep and relaxed, his hand resting on your back- he's listing off every single thing he's come to love about you, not as afraid of his vulnerability when you're hardly conscious enough to hear it.

Romano:

Lovino spent too long relearning Italian to ever abandon it, even for your sake. He casually weaves it into regular conversation, the endearments, greetings, exclamations, and nicknames fluidly blending into the ordinary. He figured out quite a while ago that you actually enjoyed his "slip ups," so he's especially generous on date nights, about half of the words he's saying falling around you in his unique dialect. He once told you that you should be grateful, that he was blessing you with "the most beautiful language in the world." And begrudgingly, lost in his smile and the way the candlelight makes his eyes spark, you have to agree.

Russia:

Over time, one of your favourite pastimes with Ivan has becoming hunkering down on a settee by the fireplace, where he'll work on his knitting. The best part of these moments, especially on particularly frigid mornings where you've no obligations, is that Ivan will start to sing to himself, always pieces in Russian. Sometimes they're lullabies he's picked up from the royal families over the years, sometimes they're peasant rhymes he's known since childhood, and on some rare occasions, he'll sing something from an opera he fell in love with back in 1872. He'll often pepper in a few casual words here and there, always with a lightness to it, but you're absolutely addicted to how full his voice sounds when he sings.

Spain:

Antonio is actually the worst of the bunch. He can and will ramble in Spanish, a lot, so much so that some of it has permanently rooted itself into your own vocabulary, some of your replies slipping out without pause these days. He tends to catch onto his slip-ups quickly at least, quickly sliding back into your shared venacular with a quick apology. Still, you'll often hear him singing in Spanish, greeting the plants in Spanish, talking to the cats in Spanish. He's particullarly bad at losing himself whenever he's invested in a football match, or if you happen to catch him irritated about politics. Tonio has taught you quite a few colourful curses over the years, smattered with some day-to-day phrases you've both come to recite by default.

Veneziano:

Feliciano is surprisingly good at sticking to the language you feel most comfortable with, though he's notorious at mucking up the number of syllables in certain words. You have a strong suspicion he does this intentionally, this elongation solely designed to annoy you, especially as he always seems slightly bemused each time he does it. Regardless of how annoying he can be in your language, you do love eavesdropping on his conversations with his brothers, chattering away in Italian, his words and hands moving far too quickly for you to even hope to follow along. There's something so soothing in listening to him speak, even if he is producing 500 words per minute.

Thanks for the ask, Anon! I hope you enjoyed~

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physicalturian · 3 years

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[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 3

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Words : 9 237

Archive of our own

Warnings : Blood / Injuries

Note : Here is the art that inspired one of the scene

--- Part 1 - Part 2 -

It is so humid, I thought. Not too cold, but not as warm as the night I just spent. I could feel a fresh breeze enter the room, but I only felt it graze parts of my body. My face was warm, so was my upper half, but my feet were freezing. Slowly gaining consciousness, I could feel the texture under my lower back was different from the one my feet were resting on. It was confusing, to say the least. Trying to think of what it was, I moved a hand and touched the ground- straw… straw? Tatami straws. I’m on the tatami? Where is my futon? My mind was too dazed to make connections.

When I opened my eyes, I was blinded by how bright the room was. Summer mornings always were the most beautiful things, if you ignored the brightness it brought upon arrival. When I sat up, something hit my lap, falling from my stomach. Startled, a mute gasp left my lips; It took me a few seconds to understand it was an arm that was attached to the person I seemed to have huddled close to, during the night. When I tried to speak, my voice got caught in my throat and only a sound escaped my lips.

Rubbing my eyes, I then looked over my shoulder. It was a relief to see the Fire Pillar had not ended up sleeping on his stomach, and from the drool on the corner of his mouth he seemed to have slept just fine. Looking a bit longer, I could see his kimono had slipped off his shoulder but also he was not wearing his haori. I was still surprised he managed to sleep in this attire, at all, but I was getting used to the surprises this man brought. His hair had left the braid during the night and seemed even messier than it usually was; Looking outside, I thought it may have been because of the mist that had set outside.

A faint drizzle had set on the land and seemed to have made the air more breathable, but with it came this feeling of stickiness the humidity brought. My eyes trailed back to the spread out form by my side, his free hand was resting on his stomach as the hair that had freed itself from the braid stuck to his face. Cute, I thought as I leaned in to brush the hair out of his face. When I did, his eyes suddenly opened wide, as they focused on my face, a smile spread on his lips. It took him half a second, if not less, to recognize it was me and to bring such a warm feeling in my chest from just a smile.

“Good morning,” When he spoke, it dawned on me that I had never really heard his drowsy voice; it lacked clarity from his usual loudness but perhaps was it because he was still laying down. “You’re looking,” he whispered, as if telling me a secret, chuckling shortly after. “I was not, your hair… I was going to get it out of your face, you are sweating quite a lot,” I laughed, pulling my hand back. Kyojuro was not having it and held my hand, bringing it back to his face, “Suit yourself, I am not about to refuse your hands on me,”

I could refuse, there was that possibility because I knew he was not going to get mad, there was no reason to, after all. Instead, I turned around fully, facing him, chuckling with a smile that turned into a confused expression when something fell from my shoulders. “What is-“ “My haori, it seems like this time you were the one who slithered out of your futon, I did not want you to catch a cold,” he explained, his large hand settling on my lower back as he pressed me closer. I stiffened at the sudden touch, and he stopped, instead brushing his thumb gently, whispering the tiniest “Sorry,” matching his tone, I whispered back “Just surprised, that is all…”

Reaching for his face, I avoided meeting his gaze and focused on the strands of hair. “It was not smart to sleep in your kimono, jinbeis are made for this,” I stated, brushing his hair back with my hand when he had let go. “Well, yes, but I couldn’t quite have covered you during the night if I had a jinbei now, could I?”

“You did not predict this, do not kid yourself,” I paused, also pausing my action as I looked at him, my head above his only slightly, “And I am sure you would have found a way, you are the Fire Pillar, after all, your body is hot all the time,” I joked, not moving. The longer this courting was going on, the more prone I was to get in situations where if I leaned in even just a bit, I could get a taste of his lips. And for a second, when his hands cradled my face, I thought I was.

With a smug smile on his lips, the golden man asked, “Are you saying I am hot?” His eyes darted to my lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, I was quick to look back up instead of letting my eyes wander off. “I meant, warm,” I breathed out, I did not realize how I sounded until I spoke. It was not as clearly spoken as it should have been, I was barely focused on his words. My mind was on the feeling of his hands against my skin, along the lingering feeling of when it touched my lower back. How long should courting be for it to be appropriate for me to cave in? This was too soon, surely… but his entire being was so enticing…

“Are you saying I’m not hot, then?” He asked jokingly, a thick brow risen on his beautiful face. My face flushed, of course I had not said that, how could he insinuate such things when all I have been thinking of is to push him on the ground and kiss him like there was no tomorrow? I did not want to wipe that smile off his face, I wanted to see it all of the time, every day, in the morning, in the afternoon, before going to sleep. But I couldn’t cave in. “No, I did not say that,” I chuckled.

Rengoku was startled when I placed both of my hands on either side of his head, it was a physical boundary to myself to not let myself lean in. His eyes glanced at my arms a moment, then a nervous chuckle escaped his lips, “I do enjoy where this is going, the closer you are to me, the happier it makes me,” I had to blink slowly to take in what he had said, my cheeks flaring up upon understanding. My mind was too clouded to be thinking anything at this moment; His hand sliding to the side of my neck, with his fingers behind my ear as his thumb brushed over my cheekbone, I felt him pulling me in gently.

My arm did not hold long, I leaned in gladly. How strong is a body with a weak mind? I thought, berating myself a moment for the little will I had. My heart was hammering against my chest, like a woodpecker. I would have swooned if I were not already kneeling when the man under me licked his lips; instead I felt a huge disappointment when instead of letting our lips meet, he turned only slightly so that his lips were right next to my ear, his breath caressing the shell of my ear, “I have yet to buy you flowers,” a surprised sound left my lips, I would even go as far as to say a whine but admitting so would be too shameful.

Rengoku then pressed his forehead against mine and smiled, almost painfully, “Proper courting takes time, we wouldn’t want to rush this,” I absolutely would, I thought, surprising myself. “And you are deserving of every second of it,” But what if we take too long and it’s too late, I asked to myself, not daring voicing my thoughts.

“Delaying what we both want gives me sights as this very one,” He chuckled, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks, one hand sliding down my jaw to touch my lips slowly. “And I dare say, I relish in seeing you looking at me like this,” His gentle smile turned into a smug one as he looked up, meeting my gaze once more, “Is my songbird mute?”

Getting a hold of myself after what almost happened, I leaned back and quickly turned around, ready to get my morning started. Ignoring his question, I found comfort in having my back facing him and asked, “Are you certain we have time?” I heard him laugh to himself. The rustle of fabrics followed as he sat up, then his hand was resting on my shoulder. I leaned my head forward, looking at my hands, “Good things come to those who wait, is it not how the proverb goes?” Kyojuro asked, the smile on his face could be heard in the way he spoke.

“Time is a hard concept to grasp in times like these, I do not want to regret anything,” A kiss was placed on the nape of my neck, I tensed up in surprised before relaxing when Rengoku rested his chin on my shoulder, “Until the festival,” It was almost pleading, but I heard it as a suggestion. “Let’s make it special. By then I will be in perfect shape to show you the best spots, and give you the tightest hugs, and so much more,” I couldn’t help but laugh softly upon hearing those words. He was planning on giving this courtship his everything, and while my biggest fear was rushing this, I also wanted to do so. I wanted him.

It felt like a dance, we were waltzing around each other, making the other want more. We both played the game and knew what we wanted but to each thing in life, there were rules. Taking time in a situation such as ours was one of those rules. “Very well, what is two more days? There is satisfaction in seeing your face every day, for now it will have to do,” I paused when he kissed my cheek happily, then stood up, carefully helping Rengoku’s chin off my shoulder and making my way to the door, “I will see you later, pretty boy,” I gave him a smile and saw his face lit up, mirroring me. His smile broadened, while mine turned into a short laugh when he said, “I’m a pretty boy?”

I did not have time to answer when the door I was about to open slid open. I was quick to turn around and face the person who had done just that, only to be met with the loudest of all the Pillars. It was hard to admit he was louder than Rengoku, but it was true. While the Fire Pillar was confident and kind, his loudness only shared positive emotions; However, the sound Pillar was loud for no reason, it was a lot about him and showing off. I got along a lot better with Gyomei than Uzui, but the latter was the one standing in front of me with a huge bag on his back. “You!” He said, grinning.

Then he squinted his eyes, “Wait, you? Innit Ren’s room?” his tone was confused; His eyes darted behind me and probably caught a glimpse of the disheveled look of the lion-like man. I thought so from the knowing smile that started spreading on his lips, “Oh I see what’s going on, that’s interesting… That’s,” He paused. Perhaps I should have felt intimidated by his towering figure, but I could not care less at this moment, the feeling of embarrassment was stronger than the one of intimidation. “A very, hot night, I see,'' the grey-haired man said. When I was about to deny it, Rengoku spoke.

“It was! I am very glad for the rain, come in, come in,” He added that I was about to leave and gestured for the Sound Pillar to get inside. He did not care much and pushed me aside without much force, his bag hitting the back of my head as he stepped inside the room. “You better tell me everything buddy, because that is a full-blown surprise- I mean sort of, I suppose we all had an idea…” His words faded away as I walked out and closed the door, as much as I was curious of what he was going to say, I also respected their privacy.

More and more Pillars were arriving at the mansion, which showed the importance of the fight to come. It was still a month away, if not more, but they were all coming back. Master Ubuyashiki must have had something in mind, but I was not aware of his plans. Bringing his strongest pawns in one place was a bold move, even if no one knew where they were. The advantage resided in our hiding place, we had yet to be found which I was not asking for, but if one information was leaked we could be undergoing an attack at any given time.

Trying to stop thinking about the worse outcome, I looked around, observing. Everyone acted their usual self, as if unaware of what was coming but we knew better, if you looked a bit longer, their gaze would sometimes focus on something. And they’d stare too long, thinking, considering, but they’d get a hold of themselves pretty quick, the mask coming right back. As I walked around the mansion, I heard commotion coming from the training room and sauntered closer. A loud conversation was happening inside, I heard the mention of the entertainment district where I knew Uzui’s wives were.

Thinking it was odd to talk about it to the recruits, I listened in, too curious this time to leave. Sending them undercover? I commented in my head, is this not too much for them? A hand on my shoulder made me move from the wall in surprise, I was caught red-handed. The humiliation did not stop there when I saw the two men I had just left alone, standing in front of me. “A curious cat, I see,” Uzui said from behind Kyojuro who had slid his hand over my arm but held me there, “You know, curiosity killed the cat- You shouldn’t listen in on conversations of others,” He added.

Clearing my throat, I was going to walk past them, my composure only faltered slightly but I still looked at him without fear, “They are still young, why are they going undercover in a district where we already have people? One of them barely realizes his breathing technique exists, they shouldn’t go there alone,” I was not deterred, neither was he. Rengoku let go of my hand, knowing this was not a moment for this. Uzui laughed, buffing his chest as if to show off somehow. He looked at me with a smirk, “I am not the one making the calls,” He almost spat, “If you want to start a fight with someone, start it with Master Ubuyashiki, but I don’t have time to waste with you,”

Huffing a laugh, I stood aside, “A fight? I do not wish to waste my energy on you, either,” Before he could step inside, I added, “But if anything goes wrong, their lives will be on you,” I regretted saying so, he only huffed in response before interrupting the discussion going on inside. Rengoku closed the door and stood in front of me, frowning, “It is not his choice, blaming him will not help,” He said, his voice was strong but kind too, he was not berating me but I still felt bad for saying it to the Sound Pillar.

“I know…” I sighed. Looking at him, I noticed he was in his Pillar outfit, not his regular jinbei or kimono. “Why are you dressed like that? Are you perhaps joining the recruits at the entertainment district?” As much as I tried to hide the worry from my voice, I was certain he had heard it from how fast I had spurred those words. My pulse sped up at the thought of him back on the field; He was not ready to go back yet, he needed to rest more, to get back in shape. Some rehabilitation even, would be interesting- or maybe I was finding excuses, maybe I was trying to cover my fear with logical thoughts…

The man in front of me laughed loudly, his hands holding mine gently as he said in a jolly voice, “Well, I am convinced I could pull one of those very fancy attire they wear in pleasure houses.” He brought one of my hands to the back of his neck, I tangled my fingers through his hair as he pulled me closer, “What do you think?” The mood had drastically changed once I was against his chest. He then placed my other hand on his shoulder and rested both of his hands on my hips, “Do you think it would suit me?” His tone had dropped a few octaves.

This was a reoccurrence of this morning, but this time, while I would have loved to keep the conversation going, I met his gorgeous eyes and smirked. My hands both traveled to rest on his biceps as I looked at him with a certain pride, “Flowers. Bring me flowers, then we will have that conversation again. I do have a lot to say on the topic,” I added the latter part jokingly, even though I knew full well I would not be able to resist this man in whatever clothing he would wear.

His cheeks flushed pink before a nervous laugh reached my ears, then a clearing of a throat, “I will be bringing you flowers and much more,” He paused, looking behind me a moment then back at me, smiling, “Will you be joining me this afternoon? For training… I have not been very useful yesterday and apologize for it, but I will gladly offer my help once more today. Will you accept?” I had to hold back from enthusiastically agreeing, there was no way I would refuse spending time with him and it made my heart flutter that he still asked if it bothered me.

Smiling mischievously, I reached out to shake his hand, “I accept your offer,” quirking a brow I added, “I hope the rain does not bother you, the weather will not stop me from training outside,” I stated. It was his time to smirk as he pulled me closer by our clasped hands, his lips hovered next to my ear as he whispered, “I am sure you have seen me train through storms and heat, a weather such as this one will not be a problem,” he quickly pulled away, pressing a kiss on my cheek before grinning, “I will see you then,” This time he caressed my cheek on the way out as he said Uzui’s name, gesturing for him to follow him.

Knowing another Pillar was around, I straightened my back and acted as if nothing happened. I was fully aware Rengoku was past the point of caring if everyone in the mansion knew, which I believe they did. He was growing bold, as if he had not been until now, I thought with a huff. But this kind of boldness meant displaying more affection in public, his determination turned more daring. I would not call it cocky, it did not suit the man, but he was sure satisfied to turn me into a puddle with the littlest show of affection.

The two men walked away, and I could hear Uzui comment on what happened, taunting as he suggested “At this point you should send a letter to everyone, you two are so obvious- wait is it even allowed? What did the Master say about it?” Rengoku seemed almost thrilled by the idea when he said it sounded great, then he laughed, “I have nothing to hide, why would I not show off…” Then the distance between us was too great, I could not hear anything else. It gave me time to compose myself.

Before leaving to see if anyone else had arrived at the mansion, I dusted nothing from my outfit. If I looked proper on the outside, they would not realize my mind was plagued with indecent thoughts and longing for Kyojuro. Since the man was not keen on intimacy, I could at least find comfort in the privacy of my mind; Although I felt the need to talk about the situation with someone, as much as I hated admitting it, I needed guidance. The festival was getting close, and I was still not sure I could promise I would not be biased once on the field if his life were on the line. I was aware I had to make my mind up by then, but I could not get one clear thought with how much the Fire Pillar’s smile was on my mind.

Sighing, I heard Sumi urgently talking to someone and hurried to her side in case she needed help only to find her with a hand on the Stone Pillar’s shoulder. I had to hold back a laugh as she tried to get him to stop crying, speaking reassuring words but not getting a response for the man. His hands were clasped in front of his face, his beads around his fingers like a vine, he was praying.

Calling the little girl’s name, she was startled to see me and walked up to me, a worried expression on her face. “I do not know what is wrong with him, I have never talked to this Pillar and- I said hi to him, and he started crying, did I do something wrong?” It was hard not to laugh at her distress, I supposed it was a weird predicament when you had never talked with him. Instead, I smiled as I placed a hand on her head, whispering back, “He is a very kind man, a very sensitive one too. I think he felt immense joy from seeing such a nice girl welcoming him, that is all. But you did nothing wrong, you can go, I have it from here,”

Sumi nodded and hurried off, telling me she’ll be bringing tea, almost tripping on the tatami on her way out. Once the door was closed, I walked to the center of the room where Gyomei was sitting and knelt in front of him, bringing my hands to clasp around his as I closed my eyes. Sharing his faith or not did not matter, he was always grateful when someone joined him in doing such things. We stood like this until he was done, we did not unclasp our hands, we both enjoyed the familiarity and found serenity when in one another’s company. The man smiled kindly, breathing out my name softly, “You are here too, it has been such a long time my friend,”

“It has indeed, how have you been?” I chuckled when he squeezed my hand reassuringly, “It is good to be back, I do not know for how long, but it brings back memories,” He hummed, his head dipping slightly as if deep in thought, then tears started streaming down his face again. His thunder-like voice resonated once more as he let go of my hands and was suddenly holding me with his hands on my biceps, “You are troubled, would you like to share what is weighing on your poor soul? I can sense it wavering, hesitation filling your being, you are doubtful,”

A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I helped his hands off me and placed them back on his lap, taking one of his in my hand. “I have barely spoken, and you already know, it is truly frightening how good you are at reading people,” the smallest chuckle escaped his lips, he did not say anything else and waited for me to explain what was going on. His thumb pressed gently on my wrist, he could not see me fidget or my expression’s change, but he could feel my pulse speed up. Normal people would have a hard time, but as a Pillar he everything was enhanced for him, I could never take any of them down.

“I have been courting Rengoku Kyojuro,” I stated. A faint smile made its way on the Stone Pillar, tears of joy coursing down his cheeks. “That is good, is it not? You do not have to feel embarrassed; I believe we have all been awaiting this,” he said, gently patting my thigh with his free hand, in a calming manner. For a second I wondered how long they had all been watching the Fire Pillar and I waltz around one another. None of them had ever said anything about it, at least not to me. “What is the problem, do you not love Rengoku?” That question struck a chord. Love was a big word, with a deep meaning to it. I had only been admiring the man from afar, most of the time, until recently. There was a better word to describe how I felt for the man,

“Longing,” I breathed, “I long for him, I wish to be with him. I do, but times are dire. What if something goes bad? I was told to put my slayer duty first, but…” I paused for a moment, thinking I might have been overthinking it. Gyomei is not one to judge, I reminded myself then continued without much hesitation, “If I see him fall during the battle… Gyomei, I do not know how I would react. I would like to think I will stay composed but-“ There was a knot in my throat, I had never voiced those insecurities out loud, with anyone, and it felt as relieving as it felt stressful. “He is like the sun, and I do not wish to spend the rest of my life in the darkness he’ll leave behind if he dies-“ I swore under my breath, taking a deep breath.

Exhaling slowly, I cleared my throat and got a hold of myself, “To avoid that, I should simply not keep this up. I should distance myself, I should stop everything, I should…” I whispered the last part, trying to convince myself. “But it feels so right to be around him,” I finally breathed, I was done ranting. The strong man in front of me scooted closer and wrapped his arms around me, my heart clenching at the warmth I felt in his caring embrace. “Your mind and your heart are in a disagreement,” He stated, his hand rubbing my back gently, comforting me in a brotherly way.

I let out a soft laugh, humming in agreement while tears of content rolled down my cheeks as the stress left my body. I hadn’t realized I had been thinking about it that much until I uncapped the lid, meaning until I talked about it. Spending days after days with the man was counterproductive to the idea I had of stepping away from him, because every minute spent with him made me like him even more. It made the decision harder to make, but Gyomei was a wise man, and I was sure he would help me clear my thoughts.

“Whatever happens out there, during the fight, you will make the decision you believe is just,” He started, his voice steady and strong. “But, uncertain times do not mean we should stop living, nor should we stop loving,” He continued, holding me tight, his huge hands never stopping rubbing my back. After a moment he pushed me away gently, holding my forearm to face me, “Because where there is love, there is peace. And the war that is raging in your heart can only be quelled by his devotion,” He reached out for my face, I helped his hand on my cheek where he wiped the tears away, a soft smile on his lips as tears streamed down his cheeks. “You are unsure if it will last, if you will both survive, and I am here to tell you that it does not matter. You must enjoy happiness as much as you can while you have it and remember that nothing is impossible for a willing heart.”

It took some time to take in his words, it was beautifully worded and made my heart soar, as I thanked him, we both stood up. I could not ignore the logical part of me that still thought it would be a good idea to leave everything and act as if nothing happened. There was no way I could ignore it, but my friend was right, and I had the right to be happy, no matter how short or long that happiness would last. If one of us died, we could describe our love as ephemeral and poets liked that.

After a few moments, we had both composed ourselves. I was the only one who laughed nervously as I stood up and extended a hand his way, “I probably look like a mess,” It was a rhetorical question, but as serious as Gyomei seemed, he had the soul of a jokester. “I would not know,” He replied, making me laugh as I helped him up, not that he needed it. “I missed you my friend, would you like to train with me? I would gladly welcome some distraction and practice,” I suggested happily.

His answer surprised me as he said, “We should practice your breathing, I sensed you before you even opened the door,” He said seriously, opening the door and leading the way to the dojo. Following his large steps, I put a hand on his shoulder, not to guide him but to keep up with his pace. “Why has no one ever mentioned it to me?” I asked in awe, “It has only recently come to my attention that I was bad at it, and it seems everyone knew!” I said, confused, questioning everything.

“We did not have time to spare, and you managed very well. However, we are going to face a greater enemy. Fixing your stealth should help you become a greater fighter,” I rolled my eyes playfully, “Know that I rolled my eyes, I am already a great fighter,” I said in a light tone. He huffed a laugh, agreeing. He added that I still lacked a lot of training and while he had the time, he would be helping me the best I can.

Tapping his arm with my finger, I said, “Do tell me, what else does everyone know that I am unaware of?” “If it is regarding the Fire Pillar-“ I cut him off, my cheeks heating up, “Not everything I talk about is about this man, my friend. Have some faith,” A semblant of composure dripped off my tongue, but he was right. I was curious about what they all saw that I did not. “You attract one another like a moth to the light, while you only talked about him off-handedly to keep it to yourself, he would often mention you. Yet, he would refuse our advice and do as he pleased, a lot of the other Pillars found it painful to see,” His explanation made me want to hide away in embarrassment. It was one thing to be oblivious to one’s actions and feelings, but it was something completely other when everyone else knew.

“I will admit it is embarrassing,” I said with a huff as we entered the dojo. Considering my attire, I went to the cabinet in the corner of the room and grabbed a jinbei. There was no need to be careful as I changed around the blind man, but I still warned him, “I am going to get changed, it will be impossible to do anything in a full kimono,” I stated. He still turned around, his back facing me.

As I got changed, I asked, “What do you think of the situation? Not as a monk, not as someone to give me guidance, but as a friend,” He hummed in response, dropping his haori on the ground and wrapping his beads around his neck to not lose them, “Seeing how your aura becomes erratic when you are in one another’s vicinity, I would say it is time you make a move,” Signaling him I was done, he turned around, we both walked to the center of the room.

“A move has been made, do not fret. We have even spent a few nights together,” While I paused, I saw Gyomei raise a brow, making me defend myself, “We slept, we simply slept,” no matter how much I wanted for more, I thought to myself. I surprised myself when the thought crossed my mind but ignored it as I continued, “We are also going to the festival in a few days, you are welcome, along with the others, if you’d like. I am sure it would be fun,” His expression turned wary for a second before turning down my offer, saying he had to stay at the mansion to train the recruits. Telling him it sounded fun, we then started what we had come here to do and started working on my weakness.

It was fair to say that Gyomei had better teaching skills than the Fire Pillar, perhaps I was also to blame. When training with Rengoku, I would only be half-focused from how my mind would start thinking about him and his touches, while when with Gyomei I would be fully focused on his words and instructions. I would dare say that I had made great improvement after the first hour, enough that he suggested we put it in practice.

Soon enough, it turned into a hide and seek. Doing it in the mansion would have been too risky, since there was a difference from any normal hide and seek. If he found me, I would have to avoid the hits of his weapon. If I could not avoid it, fight in return or run fast enough to find a new hiding spot, if one could call it as such. So, we moved to the forest nearby. This exercise made me work on keeping my breathing steady enough to hide my presence, but also fight. It is true that, when I woke up in the morning, I did not think I would be training so intensively; I did not mind, however. On the contrary, it was an opportunity to get better, and I was going to use it to the best of my ability.

We kept this up for a few hours, the only words exchanged were feedbacks, if one could call them that. Such things as, “Too slow,” or “You are not hiding,” or directions, he knew exactly where I was. But around the end of our training, while I was very fatigued and Gyomei seemed perfectly fine, I finally got a hang of the technique. My heart swelled with pride when I heard the Stone Pillar drop his weapon on the ground with a thud, “Either you have passed out, or you have mastered the breathing,” He called from the center of the forest.

We were both drenched from the rain that had not stopped, it was helpful too with the sound of the rain to hide my movement. Perhaps was I too cocky when I acted and jumped from my spot to get a hit at the Pillar. In one swift movement, he turned around and placed his hand on my back, pushing me to the ground. It reminded me of when he had trained me when I had just joined the corps, it felt nostalgic and painful at the same time. I did not have much time to reminisce about the old times that the tall man helped me to my feet, “You must keep the breathing when you are attacking by surprise, or you will get caught,” He said sternly.

With a breathy voice, I huffed, “Excitement got the best of me,” I then waited for him to get his weapon from the ground before adding, “I would not have minded if you had gone a bit gentler on this last lesson. I still have to train with Kyojuro,” Just like with the Insect Pillar, I received a short chuckle upon calling him with such familiarity. In response, I nudged the strong man playfully, “I also call you by your first name, there is no need to mock me,” when I said so, I felt a bit dizzy but got hold of myself. It came with accidentally skipping breakfast, and I was going to fix that once back home.

“My friend, have you not realized he has been there the entire time? We have gotten carried away and have been training for a few hours now. I must praise your stamina, but comment on your lack of time perspective,” A mix of laughter and surprise escaped my lips, it was in no way close to charming. It took me some time to take in what he had said and looked at him in confusion, “Where is he? I do not see him anywhere-“ “On your left, in the trees,”

Following his directions, I only caught a glimpse of his golden mane before it disappeared. I kept walking, looking up in the trees to find him again and was startled when I heard his voice right next to me, his hand on my shoulder, “You have improved greatly, it was very captivating to observe!” He told me in his joyous tone. Not nearly as captivating as you are, I thought. At this very moment with his hair soaked, it was not defying gravity, it was different than usual, but it suited him oh so well. I was brought to reality by Gyomei’s voice telling me I was daydreaming. My reaction was to give him a half-joking look, saying I was not, before looking back at the Fire Pillar.

“Gyomei is a great teacher, indeed. I apologize for not seeing time fly. I do not know what time it is, but we could still-“ “No need! You are exhausted, you should rest, and you could also use a bath,” He teased, making my cheeks burn up in embarrassment. Furrowing my brows, I countered, “So could you, you smell like a wet dog,” His eyes widened, then the smile on his face did so too. “Then we should bathe together-“ Before he could finish his sentence, Gyomei pulled him towards him and said that I deserved to bathe and relax alone after all the efforts I put into training. He even added that they’d bathe together instead and have a talk.

As they started chatting, I bid them goodbye and told them I would go ahead. But before leaving, I glanced at Rengoku, “Shall we dine together tonight?” I did not miss the dip of my friend’s head as he smiled to himself, tears streaming down his face alongside the rain. Oh, he was filled with joy in seeing what was happening before his eyes, I could see it. “If you’d allow it, I would like to dine with you every night! Tonight, tomorrow, and every day to come,” He replied with determination, his eyes bright and full of sincerity. I was overwhelmed by how sweet it was. I could only nod in response.

“I will see you tonight,” Glancing at Gyomei, I asked if he would like to join us only to have him turn down the offer, but thanking me, nonetheless. With a curt bow, I bid them goodbye once again and hurried inside. It was easy to ignore the rain when I was on the move, careful not to slip with adrenaline running through my body. But once I stood put, the coldness seeped into my bones, the wind could be felt, and my damp clothes stuck to my body like a second skin. It felt uncomfortable with each step I took. I was very glad to get rid of all my clothes once I arrived at the bathroom and slid behind the wooden screen.

Naho told me she had left everything I needed on the stool, then bowed and left. I barely had time to thank her that she had slid the door shut and disappeared. With a content sigh, I let myself enjoy the warm feeling of the condensation that filled the room and wrapped around my form, effectively warming up my body. I did not waste time in slithering inside the burning water, it felt scorching hot on my feet, but I bore through the pain and let myself be submerged so that only my head was out of the water.

The comforting feeling of the water surrounding my form made my already fatigued body even more so; I could feel my head fall back against the bath, and as hard as I tried to keep it up, I let it rest against the edge and dozed off. Dreaming did not happen, no. I was deep in thought, thinking of what to do next with the Fire Pillar. My decision was made, I was not going to back down from whatever we had going on, and while I still had doubts concerning the long-term of what we had started, I wanted him. In my mind, I could imagine us, together, closer than what we have been until now. The tension of courtship is gone, and we are sitting next to one another, holding hands. Maybe he is telling me more about his brother, maybe he’s considering introducing me to his father.

It brought a smile to my face, albeit a sleepy one. I was too tired to feel embarrassed at liking the idea of being introduced to his family. After all, if we both survive, it is bound to happen… If we both survive that is. I shook my head and started thinking about completely different things to avoid the gloomy feeling that was settling in my heart.

I do not know how long I stayed there, half-conscious and sore, but I know that upon waking up in startlement, I had dozed off too long. “Is everything alright?” I heard Aoi’s voice behind the shoji door. “Everything is good, would you mind giving me a few minutes to get dressed?” She told me to take my time, her shadow escaping as she left. My face was burning, and I could not handle it any longer, I had to get out. It required a lot of motivation, but I was quick to get cleaned up and to get out.

With how cold it had gotten outside, I kept my towel wrapped around my form while I got dressed and exhaled loudly when I felt the comfortable fabric of the kimono against my skin. While I did miss my close friend, someone I could almost call a brother, I did notmiss how exhausted I felt after any training session done with him. Gyomei was a great teacher, a great instructor, and did not plan on going easy on anyone when getting them to improve. I was reminded of that when I opened the door and felt my back hurt as I raised my arm. Slipping on my geta, I put the cleaning necessities back where they belonged and made my way to my room.

I kept walking but had to correct my own thought, it was not my room. By far. It belonged to someone else, I had my own. Still, I did enjoy sharing it with him, it was more reassuring to sleep by his side. To wake up by it, too. I longed for a morning where I would linger in his embrace and would not feel the need to pull away in fear of getting caught too close to him, where I would huddle closer to his warmth and let my hand wander to his and hold it, our fingers intertwined. I had to force the smile off my face to compose myself as I entered his room, forgetting to knock.

What welcomed me was a sneeze and a scarred bare back as the man was getting dressed. I quickly averted my gaze and said, “You are a fool for getting a cold at a time like this,” I heard him hum curiously, his weight making the tatami creak as he moved, “You should not have gone under the rain,” I continued, my hand still covering my eyes. Secretly, I was still grateful Gyomei had not told me Rengoku was there until the end of training, I knew I would have been thrown off and for some reason I would have tried to impress him. I was also happy he had joined, but I was annoyed he did not stay inside, “Do not come to me, complaining when you will be bed-ridden again for having caught a simple cold,”

A silent gasp escaped my lips when a warm hand moved mine from my face, uncovering my eyes and allowing me to meet those bright fiery orbs that looked at me, unblinking and radiant. “I am not sick, it was dust,” He stated with a huge smile as he led me to the food, his hand holding mine tight. Huffing, a small smile adorning my face, I said, “What I have said still stands, you have to be careful. How is your wound?” When I reached to touch his stomach, stopped myself and apologized, it made him chuckle softly.

“It is alright, it’s not pretty but Shinobu said I could take off the bandage to let it breathe. It will leave an ugly scar, too,” He explained with a small smile as we sat down, his red kimono made him look even more handsome than usual. I only now noticed his hair was still wet from his bath, and found some appeal in seeing him like this, kimono half open and hair loose. “A scar is not ugly; It is just healed skin. It shows you have survived something great, if anything it makes you more unique. But never ugly,” I told him seriously before wincing as I sat down in front of him.

When I did not receive an answer from the man, I looked up and saw an expression I had never seen on his face yet. Something close to fascination and awe, mixed with such a loving gaze I felt my heart sped up, “What is on your mind?” I asked with a nervous chuckle, “You. Just you, you are so beautiful, so kind-“ “I was only stating a fact, do not flatter yourself,” I paused, seeing his taken aback expression, and with flaming cheeks, I continued. I do not know what pushed me to say those things, but I did, “If I wanted to flatter you, I would have said that nothing could make you ugly,” I met his gaze and let a smile make its way to my lips, curling into a smug expression,

“I would have said that you looked sinful like this, your hair down and loose in the warm candlelight make you look almost God-like,” I paused again, taking a calm breath to keep my tone even, “A God I would fight for, a God I would kneel for… A God I would worship,” There was a silence once I finished, the expression on Kyojuro’s face was unreadable. The air was heavy from the incoming storm, but I would also put the blame on the words I had spoken; The mood had turned someway, that I could only gauge once the golden-haired man had spoken. “That is what I would have said, if I wanted to flatter you,” I took a portion of food and added, “Which I did not,”

A hand placed itself on my knee, holding me gently. “You have a way with words, I am almost tempted to cut the wait short,” He started, his tone low and almost sultry. Then his face lit up as he sat back, a hand on his knee and the other holding the chopsticks, “But I still have to bring you flowers, or else, I would have failed this courtship,” He chuckled and while his tone was as light as his words too, his gaze was nothing near those things. His half-lidded gaze was watchful and never leaving my form, even as he brought the food to his mouth.

“I am very fond of lavender,” I stated between bites, with an energetic nod, the man said, “Duly noted! Are you knowledgeable in the language of flowers?” He asked with a sweet smile, there was a rice grain on his lips as he spoke. It made me want to lean in and kiss him gently, he licked it clean before I could even entertain the thought. Getting myself together, I shook my head. With a joking tone, I said, “I did not think flowers could speak, tell me more about it,”

The Fire Pillar burst out laughing, almost falling back. I had to grab his hand to keep him balanced, feeling the soreness in my back when I did so and hissing as I pulled him back up. His attitude changed fast as he put his bowl down and held my hand with knotted brows, “Are you alright, songbird? I did not think myself that heavy,” He joked, earning a soft chuckle from me. Shaking my head, I told him I was alright, “I learned the rough way to not let pride take the better of me in a fight,” When the lion-like man looked at me in confusion, I cleared things up, “I took a hit while training, nothing grave,”

Placing his chopsticks down, he moved to sit next to me and asked me where the injury was. I gave him a short laugh, “It is on my back, it will get better in a few days. Need I remind you that you are the one wounded, here?” I breathed jokingly. The beautiful man went to grab something from his cabinet and knelt behind me, “The difference being that I take care of myself, and you do not, but it’s okay! I will take care of you,” He said with assurance as he set his hands on my shoulders before leaning in close to my ear and asking, “Can I? I can also call someone else to do it, but you do not even know if what you have is grave or not, I think it is wise to take a look,”

Why would I refuse? The man had trusted me enough to take care of him and to treat him, never had he done anything to lose my trust, which made me nod in response. “Very well, let me,” I undid my kimono so that it fell enough to give him access to my back and leaned forward to hide the rest of myself. “Is it here?” He asked as he pressed a delicate finger in the center of my back, making me wince slightly as I told him yes.

“You have a huge bruise, and a few scratches,” His fingers grazed over my shoulder blades before trailing down my back and stopping. I held my breath, shivers running down my spine alongside his fingers, he paused again. “If it is just a bruise, there is nothing that needs to be done,” I said, wanting to get dressed again. I knew that if he continued his gentle caresses over my back, I would either fall asleep or do something we both wanted but kept delaying. “I can do two things,” He said in a joyous tone. “One,” he said before pressing a kiss on my bruise. His damp, cold, hair fell to my back for an instant, making me tense up in surprise.

Thinking he had done something wrong, Kyojuro apologized. “Your hair, it’s frozen… Your lips are not, I did not mind the lips,” I mumbled in the crook of my elbow, glad that he was not in front of me, glad that I could not see his pretty smile that turned me into a puddle. I heard him breathe happily, “I see,” before telling me in more of a warning tone, “Two, careful because this one is cold,” He then started spreading an ointment on my back, I hissed at how cold it was once more but stilled when his free hand held me in place by holding my hip, not saying anything.

I was aware he was taking longer than needed, he was being purposely slow, but I did not want to complain, I felt comfortable with his hand holding me while the other gently brushed over my back. I did not realize he had finished until he leaned over my shoulder as he draped my kimono back over my form and let his lips brush over the shell of my ear ever so lightly, “I am done. You see, I like to take good care of my followers… Keep them in shape,” I quickly straightened my back, wrapping my attire properly as I gave him a half-surprised, half-satisfied expression. “I would not want them to fall to their knees during battle, no,” He paused and went back to his spot in front of me before smiling, “Never during a battle,”

With how he was acting, I was not sure he meant what I thought he did. Is he implying it would be okay to kneel… here? I asked myself without hoping for an answer. We then both hummed at the same time to defuse the tension lightly, laughing at the odds of doing so. With a more bashful attitude, the blond gestured for us to finish eating, which we did without any mention of what had happened. No mention of the innuendos, nor the touches, nor the growing want that was doing everything but waning. Only normal and enjoyable conversation.

We slid to our futons right before the storm started, “Can I pull your futon closer?” He quickly corrected himself, “No, let me rephrase that… Can you come closer to me? If you would allow it, we could-“ His voice faltered when lightning struck outside. His sheepishness could be heard even with his voice clear and loud as he spoke, “I do not do well with thunderstorms and would be grateful if you could sing for me,”

Already half-asleep, I hummed thoughtfully before lifting myself on an elbow and looking at him tiredly. “I am exhausted, Kyo, but-“ I reached out for his futon and slid it closer to mine, earning a surprised gasp from the man. When he was in my reach, I smiled, “There,” Then I intertwined my fingers with his and brought his knuckles to my lips, placing a tender kiss on it before resting our hands on my chest. “Good night,” I mumbled.

Still slightly conscious, I felt him huddle closer as he rested his head next to my shoulder, wishing me sweet dreams.

[Part 4]

#gentle summer #kny #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #writing #writings #writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #physicalturian #rengoku kyojuro

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milenadaniels · 3 years

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Still Waters, 7k - Buck/Eddie, post s4 (AO3)

As Eddie lays on the hot pavement bleeding out, his eyes locked on Buck’s bloody face, his hand reaching out towards him, what washes over him isn’t his hard-earned stillness nor is it shock.

It’s clarity, edging slowly into focus from off-stage.

And when he wakes up in the hospital bed and registers a soft, slim hand in his, he thinks, "no, that’s not it.”

----

Or, Five Ways Eddie's Body Feels Different After the Shooting

Eddie takes comfort in living with a certain stillness.

Being an army medic means walking into gunfire without being able to shoot back. It takes a steadiness that’s hard to train and while the army did help him grow into the man he is today, they couldn’t teach him that. That stillness, that restraint and level-headedness — he showed up to basic training with it. It makes him a good medic, a good firefighter, and it’s what makes him a good son. (If he’d countered his parents’ yelling with his own, if he’d let loose the caustic retorts he has tucked away, it wouldn’t be long until they were out of his life for good.)

He lost that stillness after Shannon died and he nearly lost everything else he’d worked so hard for because of it. So he built that restraint back up brick by brick until he was safe again. It was a little harder to breathe sometimes, but it was a familiar kind of pressure. Like a jacket you’ve grown out of but still love the look of enough to wear out sometimes.

And then he gets shot, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, doesn’t react at all. But it’s not his stillness kicking in.

It’s having a bullet tear through his body on a sunny afternoon in L.A., thousands of miles away from where this should have been a hazard of the job.

It’s hearing the bullet go off before registering the pain, but seeing the blood spray across Buck’s face before any of that.

It’s falling and Buck — open, emotional Buck — not reacting at all.

It’s collapsing on the street and smelling iron and finally putting together all these pieces and understanding why it’s so hard to breathe.

It’s not stillness, it’s just shock. Pure and simple.

But after that moment passes, as Eddie lays on the hot pavement bleeding out, his eyes locked on Buck’s bloody face, his hand reaching out towards him, the stillness that washes over him isn’t his hard-earned restraint nor is it the shock.

It’s clarity, edging slowly into focus from off-stage.

Clarity like he had in Afghanistan as the bullets rained down around him and he bled out in the sand, the clarity that nothing in the world mattered to him more than Christopher and nothing would ever keep him from his kid again. Not the army, not his problems with Shannon, not his parents.

This clarity, this epiphany, is seeping slowly into his consciousness and he grasps at it, tries to pull it in closer to understand. But just as it starts to trickle into him, Buck screams for him, his voice breaking, terrified, and a strong hand lands on his arm. Anything else his mind was trying to tell him is drowned out by his own screams.

When he wakes up in the hospital bed, lights too bright and his throat sore from the extubation, he feels...strange. He feels a stillness take hold of him, but it’s not a familiar one. His body and mind are calm, but anticipating something. He feels like he’s woken up from an important dream he can’t remember. Like he’s late for something but doesn’t know where to go. Like he was mid-conversation when the other person vanished.

Then he registers a soft, slim hand in his and thinks, no, that’s not it.

Eddie’s skin feels different after the shooting.

He knows that from the moment his mind and body reconnect and half-asleep he tries to pull his hand out of Ana’s, but he doesn’t get the extent of it until his welcome home party where he tries to lean in for a kiss but diverts himself to her cheek, lingering there longer out of guilt. Her skin is as soft as always, warm from the heat of the house, but that small thrill of learning intimacy with someone new is gone and he’s not close enough to her to feel the deeper, warmer rightness he feels when he kisses Christopher’s forehead or Abuela’s cheek.

Carla’s comment has been rattling around in his head since before the shooting, trying to find the unfinished puzzle inside him it could match up to. Ana sidles up to him at the party, lacing their fingers together and a faint rush of no crawls up his arm. He squeezes her fingers to compensate and smiles, blaming its weakness on fatigue. He looks at her, so beautiful, kind, and patient, and suddenly he hears Buck’s voice in his head saying, “Overcorrecting” as the puzzle piece slides into place.

Eddie’s parents were wrong about Christopher, about Eddie as a father, and he will forever be angry that they made him feel like nothing, like worse than a deadbeat dad when he was already at his lowest. But he still loves them, still understands they were trying to do the best they could for Christopher, and in that their values will always align. He knows that if the day comes that he needs their help, they’ll be on a plane in a heartbeat.

They’re family.

So he can’t dislodge the seed of hurt buried deep in his gut when they tell him he’s failing in their eyes. And they weren’t wrong in their accusations, really. He works crazy hours, the extended family doesn’t live here, and every other week with a specialist or new consultation makes him feel like he’s playing catch-up on what his son needs to be healthy and happy.

And then Ana was placed in his path. A schoolteacher turned vice-principal with a Ph.D, who could cook, and who was kind, beautiful, Latina, and worked almost exactly the same hours Christopher would be in school for. And so, just like he had with the skateboarding, Eddie had overcorrected and tried to make up for his deficiencies.

Eddie breaks up with her over coffee during her lunch break while Christopher is at school and Buck is at work. She’s as understanding as she has been since they started this little courtship and he’s grateful to have known her, to have tried this, even though it didn’t work. She squeezes his hand on the table as she gets up to leave and he smiles politely, stretching his fingers in and out only once she’s completely out of sight.

He passes out on the couch when he gets home, grateful to have the excuse of recovering from a major injury to do absolutely nothing but blank out for a bit, and is woken up by warmth cupping his shoulder. He opens his eyes to find blue eyes and an amused smile tugging at full lips.

“Hey, dinner’s on,” Buck says. There’s a question written across his face, a hint of worry creasing in the corners of his eyes, but Eddie smiles back tiredly and the shadows on Buck’s face clear. Mostly.

“We’re having ziti!” Christopher yells from the dining room, and Eddie is not surprised. Buck has been staying with them for three days and they’ve had foods easy to eat one-handed for those three days.

“We are having ziti,” Buck echoes with raised eyebrows to convey the nonexistent significance of having ziti.

“Well I’m definitely getting up for ziti.”

Unexpectedly, Buck’s hand slips into his good one and his other hand goes to support Eddie’s shoulder to help him upright on the couch. He backs away once he’s sure Eddie isn’t listing sideways and shoots him a smile with a cocked head before hopping back to the dining room to supervise. Eddie takes an extra moment on the couch opening and closing his fist, letting himself revel in the electric tingle racing up and down his arms, and the feeling of sweat prickling along his skin where Buck’s slid.

Eddie's hearing things differently after the shooting.

Between being a young, single parent and his military training, Eddie has mastered the art of sleeping lightly to keep alert to any sounds in the night. He’s so good at it that when they first moved into this house, he only lasted 3 weeks before he had to get his toolset out, take Christopher’s bed apart and reassemble it with a copious applicable of WD-40 to stop the one damn metal slat squeaking just loud enough for him to hear all the way from his own bedroom every single goddamn night.

He thought he’d naturally start sleeping more soundly as Christopher got older and more independent, but then Shannon died, and the tsunami happened, and being able to spring up at the first hint of a cry overrode any other instinct his body could manifest.

And now he’s recovering from an injury, which never lends itself to a deep sleep, which works out well because Christopher is processing his father getting shot at work and Eddie needs to be ready to reassure him that he hasn’t lost both his parents when the nightmares come.

So when he wakes to Christopher shaking his arm and whispering, “Daddy”, he immediately springs awake, his hands already reaching for his crying son….who isn’t crying. Which Eddie can see clearly by the strong light of the sun filling the room.

“Mijo?” Trying to blink himself into alertness.

“Are you awake?” Christopher asks, a crooked smile on his face. “It’s breakfast time.”

“Yeah, yes, I’m awake,” he says, though his mind is trying to tell him otherwise. “Breakfast? What time is it?”

“Breakfast time!” Christopher repeats, shaking his arm again for good measure. “It’s gonna get cold!”

“I’m coming,” he says, but grunts as he actually tries to lever himself up.

“Hey, hey, you were only supposed to see if he was awake, not actually wake him up,” Buck admonishes as he rushes the room. He pokes Christopher in the side a few times as punishment until the boy is shrieking with laughter. Then he moves into Eddie’s space to slip a strong arm under his back and practically lifts him up into a seated position without Eddie’s help.

Eddie blinks against a small rush of dizziness and Buck’s hands stay on his shoulders until he nods that he’s okay. The feeling of them stays on his skin like tattoos long after.

They make it to the table and Eddie finds himself still disoriented as he takes in the impressive spread on the dining room table. Buck is many things but he is not a quiet man, especially not while cooking and this is a minimum of a half hour’s work. Probably closer to an hour judging by the very uneven shapes of the hashbrowns pointing to Christopher’s appointment as sous-chef.

He didn’t hear any of it.

But the biggest blow comes ten minutes into the meal when Christopher, who’d been all energy until he got to the table, suddenly seems to have lost his appetite and slumps into his chair as he plays with his food instead.

Eddie’s hand comes up automatically to check for a fever despite the lack of redness in his cheeks but Buck catches his eye and shakes his head, assuaging that concern. Buck, Eddie now notices, is sporting quite the bruises under his own eyes.

“Nightmares,” Buck mouths silently, tipping his head towards Christopher.

And for a moment, Eddie’s parents stand in front of him, telling him he couldn’t even be there for his son when he needed him and the guilt and shame curls between his ribs and suffocates him.

But then Buck negotiates Christopher into eating one half of a banana in exchange for two more squirts of ketchup for his eggs and Eddie lets the guilt wash into him, through him, and then away.

He wasn’t there for Christopher, but Buck was. And would forever be. Eddie has had nearly a year to come to terms with that fact, to grapple with what little doubts he had that Buck would pass on the responsibility — not because he didn’t want it, but because he’d forever find someone else more worthy of it — and yet he’s still caught off-guard every time he’s reminded he isn’t alone in this anymore.

Still, he feels the need to be there himself for Christopher if he’s needed, so he tries to train his mind to stay alert while he sleeps that night.

He lets himself drift, cataloguing the sounds of nighttime. The periodic hum of the fridge, the air conditioning kicking in, the crickets outside. He slips away at some point, pulled into darkness by a healing body and a tired mind, but he’s gratified to find himself waking suddenly at 1:13am at the sound of murmuring voices down the hallway.

Buck is up with Christopher again.

Eddie’s stomach muscles make a valiant effort to try to get him up but the rest of his body and mind are unconcerned. He tries to flare up some adrenaline, something to tell his body to respond to his child who’s in distress, but all he gets is the molasses-heavy pull back to sleep. He knows he should be bothered, should be scared that he can’t do this. But he’s just not. Because Buck’s got this.

A month ago, footsteps in his hallway at night would have him waking up tense and alert, ready to respond to the intruder, until he remembered that Buck stayed over, or Tía Pepa came in early and he would slowly, consciously release the tension in his muscles until he was calm again.

Tonight, the sound of heavy footsteps going back to the living room doesn’t even pass into conscious thought. Before it can even get to his higher thinking, it’s interpreted as safe.

Eddie’s seeing things differently after the shooting.

Eddie’s back to work a week after the shooting, on light duties, and while he hates not being able to jump in the truck and watch his team’s back on calls, he doesn’t hate taking it easy. Just for a little while anyway.

Today, however, they’re all taking it easy. It’s a slow day, and they have an open house for several local high schools’ career day. The firefighters of the 118 are spread out, some leading tour groups, some recounting PG versions of intense calls, some handing out snacks and pamphlets. Civilians are milling about as though this is a museum and not a functioning firehouse that could get a call any minute, but he’s not stressing about it. That’s Bobby’s job.

He does raise an eyebrow at whichever parents feel it’s okay to let their toddler toddle off in a strange place full of dangerous equipment though. Eddie sees the tyke waddle past him and almost moves to block her path when he sees her destination.

Later, he’ll remember this moment as time slowing down to a crawl just for him, but what really happens is his heart realizes something just moments before the rest of him does and his brain has to pump the brakes to align everything back up.

What happens is Buck crouches down to the level of the little girl whose pudgy arms are reaching up for him, like she recognizes the safest place in this whole new, strange environment. He puts his hands around her — his fingers spanning from her hips to underneath her arms — and lifts her up high above his head in one quick swoop that has her shrieking with delight. And the people drop away, the cacophony dies down until all Eddie can see is Buck and the little girl backlit by the sun pouring in from the open bay doors. And at the crest of the arc the little girl makes in the air, everything stills and something in Eddie’s chest just cracks right open. Something deep and consuming. Something that resonates through him until he’s shuddering with it. Something that yells,

I want that.

It’s a picture of achingly beautiful contrasts — a child the size of a doll over the head of a towering form, taut biceps straining against his uniform short sleeves to hold her fragile body with just enough force to keep her safe in his hands, the dark masculine line of his uniform against her light purple princess tulle dress — but their beaming smiles are matched perfectly.

And Eddie wants. He wants to the point of breathlessness and he doesn’t know what to do with that. He just knows he wants to be looking at this exact image again a couple of years down the road, but when it happens next he wants the little girl in Buck's hands to be his, and that is some fucking news to him. He’s never thought of having more kids. Well, he has, but in the same abstract way he thinks he might someday get a dog. It would be nice, but not in the cards for now, not something to spend time thinking about in realistic terms.

But maybe that’s what his brain is straining to catch him up on. That he wants more kids. Like a biological alarm clock coming to life. He could deal with that. He could.

Only Buck is putting the little girl down and she’s walking away with her parents and Eddie can’t pull his eyes away from Buck’s deep dimples and the whites of his teeth, and that warm pressure in Eddie’s chest sinks down into his abdomen and curls into something hot and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he thinks wildly that it may not be about the little girl at all. But it may be that if there is a little girl in his future, he’d want her to be theirs, like —

Like Christopher is.

His mind supplies him with the image of Buck carrying Christopher to bed last night — in those same strong arms, tenderly removing his glasses and tucking him in — and just like that this kernel of panic that had been building in his sternum bursts like an overfilled balloon whose contents are unexpectedly soft because they rain down over all the fear and anxiety until all he can feel is a bone-deep calm.

Eddie wants that. And maybe that’s okay.

“You okay, Eddie?” Asks Bobby, coming to stand next to him.

Time is winding back up to normal speeds, and the sun framing Buck is slowly lowering back down to the brightness of a regular sunny day, but Eddie is still staring.

“Yeah,” he says in a voice he barely recognizes as his own.

“You sure?”

Buck is saying something to a parent, then asks them to wait, running behind a truck for something and finally releasing Eddie’s gaze.

He takes a deep breath and sits with the feelings pulsing through his veins before turning to Bobby, his eyes maybe a touch wide if the captain’s concern is anything to go by. He wants to say something, wants to blurt it all out, wants to be that person who wears their whole heart on his sleeve...but he’s not that person yet.

“We had a conversation not long ago,” Eddie begins, sounding as shell shocked as he feels, “about focussing on the wrong thing. Missing out on something.”

Bobby is quiet and when Eddie finally turns his head he finds the man looking past him, to where Buck has returned.

Bobby’s lips into a small, satisfied smile. “Yes, we did. Found something to focus on?”

“Yeah,” Eddie admits. “I think so.”

Bobby claps him on the back, and leaves his hand just long enough to feel like a blessing.

Eddie’s breathing is different after the shooting.

He wishes he could blame the bullet but the same kind of luck that had gotten him out of the well had somehow seen him come out of a sniper attack with mostly muscle damage and a cleanly fractured scapula that should heal if it's kept immobile. His ribs, collarbone, and lungs have all gotten off without injury.

And blaming the bullet was always going to be a hard sell when his breath only hitches and constricts when Buck lets himself into his house at the end of his shifts. When he toes his boots off and hangs his jacket up in the closet like he means to stay. When his socked feet bump into Eddie’s under the breakfast table because they’re both too damn long in the legs to be sitting across from each other. When their shoulders brush when putting the leftovers away. When Buck is the one to let Abuela into the house and chats with her easily as Christopher gets ready to leave. When —

Suffice it to say proximity may be more a factor than the bullet. Though Eddie can understand how Buck’s gotten it wrong.

“Don’t tell me you’re not hurting, tough guy” Buck chastises him later that night with a knowing glimmer in his eyes as his fingers reach out for his shoulder, “I’ve been listening to you flinch for three days straight.”

It has been three days since the open house. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful Buck waited until Christopher was at Abuela’s to bring this up or terrified he’s lost his child-buffer.

“Buck, it’s fine,” Eddie protests even as he holds still for Buck to palpate the area gently. “I am a medic, in case you forgot. I know what to look out for in healing wounds.” The warmth leaves his shoulder and he misses it instantly.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but apparently doctors make the worst patients,” Buck informs him, hands on his hips which pitch forward in a way Eddie desperately tries not to interpret as suggestive. This is just Buck peacocking to drop some knowledge. “There’s a reason docs aren’t allowed to diagnose or prescribe themselves anything. Meds and beds, Eds!” he decrees sunnily like the dork he is.

Buck slides one of the pain pills out of the child-and-shoulder-injury-proof bottle and Eddie takes it because breathing issues aside, he did overextend himself in physical therapy today and he’s not going to get any sleep without it.

“Come on, let’s go.” Buck tips his chin imperiously towards the hallway, expecting Eddie to lead the way to his bedroom where he’ll take off his shirt for Buck to inspect both sides of the wound, clean it, and redress it, like they’ve done nearly a dozen times before. He’s dodged it for the past few days in deference to his sanity but he’s not getting out of it tonight.

Eddie gets up and leads the way, telling himself he’s only doing it as a pretense to turn away so the heat crawling up his neck isn’t be on full display but as he gets closer to his bedroom, his mind lifts the image of Buck’s large hands from the little girl’s waist, and the electric warmth of his touch on the couch, and drops it onto the image of Eddie’s bare, shirt-and-bandage-off skin and now his feet are just following orders from higher up the chain.

Eddie sits gingerly on the edge of his bed and forces himself to breathe normally as his eyes track Buck’s easy familiarity with the inside of his bedroom. Buck turns the bedside lamp on, then crosses to the dresser to pull a fresh shirt for bed which he chucks at Eddie’s head (only once he’s sure Eddie’s aware it’s coming), then ducks into the bathroom quickly to grab the dollar store basket with everything he’ll need.

Then Buck is helping him out of his sling and shirt and stepping closer until Eddie’s field of view narrows to a broad chest and flat stomach covered only by a thin, soft-looking dark red henley. Buck inches closer still as he concentrates on carefully pulling off the old gauze and his thighs press into the inside of Eddie’s knees.

His breath hitches.

“Sorry, sorry,” Buck mumbles.

Eddie doesn’t correct him.

This close, the heat from Buck’s body is slowly seeping into Eddie’s space, the skin on the inside of his knees already past the point of overheating, much like his face, neck and chest are.

Buck’s hands are light as the pads of two fingers press around the skin around the stitching. “It’s...actually looking really good,” he says, puzzled but pleased. “Not red, no sign of infection. You do feel a little warm though.”

No shit.

Buck shifts, moving one leg outside of Eddie’s knees to better look at the back of the wound and he says something but all Eddie can focus on is the 5 inches keeping Buck from essentially riding his thigh.

“Eds? Hey.” Buck calls for what sounds like the second or third time. “What’s hurting? Where are you feeli—”

Buck is leaning back to better look at him and Eddie doesn’t know what his face is saying but no part of his body is less than overheating and thinks his eyes may be communicating this.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie manages to get out.

“But…” Buck looks down, his body becoming tense with uncertainty. “You keep—”

“Yeah,” Eddie interrupts and he wants to blame the pain pill like he wanted to blame the bullet but Tylenol 3 barely makes people drowsy, it sure as hell isn’t responsible for people feeling up their best friends. And yet that’s what’s happening, apparently.

They both look down and watch as Eddie’s good hand slowly reaches out and settles on Buck’s hip, under his henley, fingers curling too naturally around his leather belt, the backs of his fingers pressing into Buck’s warm skin. Not only does Buck not reject the touch but he leans forward into it, his hands rising towards him but not landing. Eddie’s heart aches at the aborted motion and recognizes it for uncertainty. Buck’s not fully sure what’s happening but he’s willing to go along with whatever Eddie wants to do.

Eddie doesn’t want that.

He uses the hand on Buck’s hip to move him back just far enough to leverage himself up so they’re on equal footing, though only one of them is half-naked.

“Eddie,” Buck begins, though it’s obvious he doesn’t know what words were meant to follow. He swallows convulsively and narrows his wide blue eyes to roam over his face. Eddie doesn’t miss the naked hope filtering into his expression, nor does he miss the anxious self-doubt behind it.

“Buck,” Eddie murmurs so reverently he’ll be embarrassed about it later. He lets go of Buck’s belt, and lays his hand flat on his ribs before slowly sliding it up to the crook of Buck’s neck in a move that leaves nothing to interpretation. Buck breaks out in a full-body shiver and he laughs breathlessly, embarrassed.

Eddie keeps his hand soft, careful, on Buck’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against his collarbone and Buck’s eyes are glued to its motion, his mouth parted slightly.

“Are—” Eddie clears his throat quietly. He doesn’t think he’s misreading but he has to know. “Are you into this?”

Instantly, Buck’s eyes snap up to his, vulnerable until he properly processes the question, then all traces of doubt clear in a blink and he’s treated to the laser focus of Buck’s hyperfixation dragging down his face to his mouth and Eddie’s breath hitches again. This time, Buck looks up with a cocksure grin tugging at his lips as he comes to understand what Eddie’s problem’s been these past few days.

Then the statue of Evan Buckley explodes into motion — his hands split their focus, one gliding across the bare skin of Eddie’s waist and gripping, the other carefully cupping his head a moment before his lips follow, landing just in front of his thumb on Eddie’s cheekbone and for a moment Eddie’s upset to have gotten this far and not have Buck’s lips on his. But then he realizes Buck is just as wound up as he is, and a wound up Buck is an aggressive force of passion looking for safe outlets who probably needs a moment and Eddie’s heart constricts tightly in his chest.

Finally, the wet drag of lips against his cheek veers downward and across, and Eddie’s mouth is engulfed in softness and heat. He’s pressing up into it, pushing up from the balls of his feet with his hand on Buck as leverage, pressing up and forward into Buck who takes it without moving an inch. He’s never had to reach up to kiss someone before, never felt evening stubble brushing against his and he’s keenly grateful to have this with Buck, something so different to mark this as not just another kiss, but a kiss with Buck. No ordinary thing.

One of them is making a noise but he can’t focus on that when he needs to get closer, needs to press in and through, needs to turn them and get Buck on the bed so he can—

“Ah!” Eddie gasps.

Buck’s lips are wrenched away, though his hands remain like hot brands on his skin. His eyes are wild and unfocused, his lips red and bruised and he’s panting, but his face is puckered with concern.

“Okay, that one was definitely pain,” Buck gasps, blinking back to some kind of lucidity.

Eddie winces, unable to deny the agony tearing through his shoulder. “My fault,” he hisses.

Buck frowns and only then realizes that the arm that should be in a sling is out of place because Eddie’s hand has gone rogue and reached out to hook into Buck’s pants pocket to pull him closer.

Buck winces in sympathy, though he’s not able to fully erase the laughter from his eyes or from the corner of his lips. He takes pity on Eddie though, and drops his hands to gently untangle Eddie’s clamped fingers and guide it back across Eddie’s body where the sling would be keeping it.

Once it’s back in its healing position, Eddie releases the breath he’d been holding and settles back into the familiar ache. Instead of releasing him, however, Buck covers the hand laying on Eddie’s ribs with his own, pressing enough to convey the command: don’t move, before leaning back in slowly to capture Eddie’s lips in a kiss achingly sweeter than before. It’s little more than their lips resting against each other but Eddie’s heart goes wild in his chest, matching whatever the hell butterflies are wreaking havoc in his stomach.

Buck leans back for a split second, just long enough for them to open their eyes and check in before he’s swaying back in for a short kiss once, twice, and one final time before properly moving away and leaving Eddie cold.

“Meds and beds, Eds,” Buck orders with finality, softened by a rueful smile.

And Eddie, who’s never had a single positive thought about Abby Clark, thinks of her fleetingly as some kind of saint because somehow she resisted Buck — kissing him, touching him, even seeing him — for months on end and if Eddie wasn’t suddenly struck with a physically deep fatigue borne of pain and emotional epiphanies, he thinks he would be on his knees begging for Buck to come back into his arms right now.

As it is, he studies Buck’s boyish grin and the fear in his eyes that his stopping this is a problem, and Eddie is filled with a helpless love that steals his breath again. Buck catches the hitch, understands it for what it is, and the tension leaks out of his shoulders.

He lets Buck help him put the night shirt and sling back on, his mouth curling into a smile with every gratuitous touch Buck allows himself, and catches that errant hand as it leaves his body, squeezing once before dropping into his pillows and giving in to sleep.

Eddie’s heart is definitely not working the same after the shooting.

He had a heart scare in high school that freaked him and his parents out. It benched him from the football team for nearly half a season until the doctors said it was something called premature ventricular contractions. It was supposedly benign and something most people will have at least once in their lives. It didn’t feel benign. It felt like his heart was stopping suddenly, then pressure building up in his chest before the next beat came and overcompensated by beating three times as hard as normal like a goddamn punch in the chest. It had kept him up at night, not from anxiety or anything, just because it was so disruptive, as if your head jerked on its own just as you were falling asleep.

But he’d grown out of it after a few months and never really thought of it again until he got shot, realized he was in love with his best friend, and his heart started going out of whack again.

He was fairly sure it wasn’t PVC. Much like the breathing, there seemed to be a clear and defined trigger.

Such as Buck pressing a kiss to Christopher’s curls at the dining table as he geared up to leave for a Saturday shift. Then turning to Eddie waiting at the door, his eyes a lot darker than they’d been a moment ago, and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheekbone, in the very same spot as he had two days ago in his bedroom.

“Be good,” Buck murmurs, tugging lightly on Eddie’s sling strap before straightening out to pick up his bag.

Eddie wants nothing more than to catch his hand and pull him back in, hold him close so he can’t leave, and he’s pretty sure all that is painted clear as day on his face if the regret and longing that washes over Buck’s face is anything to go by.

It’s a problem.

Eddie’s been trying to reign himself back in. Trying to find that stillness so he stops feeling like he’s going to buzz out of his damn skin.

But then Buck is back from his shift and locking the door to Eddie’s bedroom, assuring him it’s “just so we have time to get some clothes back on if he needs us,” with a rakish grin and fuck if it doesn’t feel exactly like PVC - a sudden pausing of his heart as he tries to deal with all these emotions before they crash into him on the next beat.

And he’d worry about it but Buck’s laying him out, pressing his hot mouth on every inch of skin he can uncover, setting his nerves off like electric pulses until all Eddie can hear is their panting and the rushing of blood in his ears. His heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest by the time Buck’s divested him of his sweats and boxers. But then Buck pauses and looks up for permission before continuing, and Eddie gets to look down and take in his best friend’s darkened blue eyes and ruddy cheeks and what his heart does is definitely not sex-related. Not only sex-related.

He nods helplessly and Buck grins with delight before taking Eddie’s dick into his mouth and if he thought his body felt different before, it’s nothing compared to being suddenly engulfed in the velvet heat of Buck’s mouth. Eddie’s good hand slaps down on the mattress and grips the sheets tightly. He’s about to bring up his fist to his mouth to do something, he doesn’t know what, when Buck anticipates danger and his strong fingers are gripping his other hand, forcing it to stay in place on his ribs. Eddie laughs breathlessly — the man can multitask.

Eddie twists his fingers until they’re threading between Buck’s, who catches on and properly holds his hand as he takes Eddie apart.

And Eddie...Eddie hasn’t had sex in a really long time, and he hasn’t been so fucking in love during sex in an even longer time so he’s not surprised when it’s only minutes later that he’s squeezing at Buck’s hand and gasping. “Buck...I’m gonna—” and he’s somehow not surprised when Buck hums his acknowledgement and presses himself closer and closer in until Eddie’s toes curl and his back bends and he’s shooting down Buck’s throat who stays in place until Eddie’s hissing from overstimulation.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie says helplessly, his heart galloping, and another small laugh escaping him as he brings his good hand up to his forehead.

Buck climbs his way back up his body, sitting lightly right over his spent dick and he knows he shouldn’t torture himself but Eddie looks down and lets himself commit the image to memory until they can do that properly. Then he drags his eyes up and over Buck’s straining erection, his panting chest and up to that pleased goddamn smile.

“Good?” Buck asks, cocky as he’s ever been.

“Good,” he laughs sarcastically. “I think you broke me. Dios, I think I need an ECG.”

Buck actually looks mildly concerned so Eddie reaches for him and Buck lets himself be pulled down by the nape until Eddie can lick into his mouth, going a little nuts over the taste of himself on Buck’s tongue.

Eddie pulls his hand away from his nape to reach down for Buck’s dick, but Buck takes that as direction to sit up so Eddie pulls him back in until their lips are barely touching. He squeezes Buck’s nape, says firmly, “Stay,” and marvels when Buck’s eyes go wide, his face slackening, and a shiver running down his back. Fuck.

When Eddie pulls his hand away again, Buck stays, pressing his elbows on either side of Eddie’s head to keep himself in place until he catches onto Eddie’s plan.

“You don’t ha—”

“I still have one good arm,” Eddie retorts. “As it happens, I’ve gotten a lot of practice out of this one.”

Then his fingers curl around hot flesh and Buck jerks like he’s been struck.

“Easy,” Eddie soothes, craning up to remind Buck what he’s supposed to be doing. To his credit, it only takes the soft press of their lips to get him refocused, then Buck’s tongue is in his mouth while he pushes helplessly into Eddie’s hand. It’s dry because they didn’t plan this out beyond a heated look in the living room, but Buck’s leaking enough to provide at least some lubrication. In the end, he’s got about as much stamina as Eddie did and a few minutes of rutting into Eddie’s fist and attacking Eddie’s mouth is enough to set him off, his cum spilling over Eddie’s stomach in long pulses.

Eddie’s hand uncurls and smooths over the skin of Buck’s side, making long passes from hip to shoulder as Buck comes down from his high. On the fourth sweep, he trails his hand inward, over Buck’s waist and back up his ribs and chest in a move reminiscent of the night of their first kiss, but this time he stops in the middle, in the dip between his pecs.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs an ECG,” he grins.

Buck huffs with a grin that grows to overtake his face. “Less of a concern for young guys like me. You should probably get checked out though.” He leans back in to occupy Eddie’s mouth before he can think of a retort, but as the kiss devolves from heat and passion into sweet and lazy explorations, Eddie feels a distinctive disruption of rhythm in Buck’s chest and smiles.

Later, Buck gets up and gets them cleaned up with kleenex, except for the drops of cum caught on Eddie’s fingers. Those he takes into his mouth to clean thoroughly until Eddie feels himself getting hard again and has to call uncle. Buck dresses himself perfunctorily and helps Eddie back into his boxers before reaching for the sling and carefully threading it over Eddie’s arm and neck, squeezing his fingers before pausing and looking unsure.

“Should I—” He looks towards the door, beyond which is the hallway and living room where he’s been bunking down because Christopher’s in the house and they haven’t had time to talk about all this yet.

Instinctively, Eddie’s good hand reaches for his hip and grips gently but firmly.

“Stay,” he says again, watching with clear eyes now how Buck’s eyes grow wider and his throat convulse. They’re definitely going to be exploring that in the future.

For now, Buck nods absently before smiling. He moves to the door only to unlock it and crack it open before returning to the bed and the domesticity of it twists Eddie’s heart one last time before he’s folded into Buck’s arms and succumbing to the darkness more easily than he can ever remember doing so before.

Eddie suffered a near-death experience on the job. Christopher almost lost his father. Buck almost lost his best friend. Getting shot again aggravated his PTSD. The bullet created cracks not only in his bones but in the shell casing he built around himself, the effects of which he’ll probably carry his entire life.

But he survived, he came home to his son. He’ll learn to be okay with loud, sudden noises again. He’ll learn to deal with the nightmares if they come back. He’s in physical therapy for the pain. And in the end, he can’t find it in himself to wish it had never happened.

Not when he wakes up to Buck’s arms pressed against his bare skin, sharing his heat and feeling that electricity coursing softly just under his skin.

Not when he hears Christopher inching the door open in the morning and Buck beckoning him in while whispering, “We gotta be quiet, your dad’s still sleeping.”

Not when he loses his breath at Buck’s casual parental love as he twists to grab Christopher by the waist and heave him into the bed between them, causing the boy to giggle way too loud.

Not when he paints an unimpressed smile on his face before rolling over dramatically, finding two too-innocent faces smiling back at him and he's struck dumb for just a second at the picture they paint, eyes wide and curls askew.

Not when Christopher throws Buck under the bus, giggling “it was him!” and Buck takes his revenge in the form of tickles until they’re both pink-cheeked and laughing and the bed is shaking like it may not support them, and Eddie’s heart is so fucking full it may not even be able to beat anymore.

Eventually, Eddie does feel a stillness rebuilding within him after the shooting, but it doesn’t feel like walls, it feels like love. It feels like peace.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #9-1-1 #my fics #my first smut in 15 years I'm so proud lol #with a side of 7k words of feelings realizations

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minkmousesworld · 3 years

Text

Hi! could i request a omega Daki x Alpha reader smutty were reader is just incredibly protective of Daki and sometimes loses it but Daki both loves the attention and loves that she can actually calm the reader down?

by @gayforthem

Hello! Thank you very much for the request, and don't forget to drink water!

enjoy reading~❤️

Omegaverse AU: omega! Daki x alpha! Reader [NSFW🔞]

"Your"

warnings: modern au, kinda dark omegaverse (mention of murder), heavy petting (masturbation), mention of oral sex, mention of marking.

omega fem character x alpha (aggressive) gender neutral reader

Daki was popular.

Sometimes it felt as if every time she walked into a room, everyone stopped doing their own thing to look at her.

Daki was a bright and damn attractive omega, and she knew it. With all her bright makeup, elegant clothes, and arrogant, warm smile.

And with that cute expression she made whenever someone (usually a "fan") bothered her, but not enough to make her really angry.

She waved at them sweetly and wrapped her arms around your arm, throwing eloquent glances at your face without even looking back.

Daki lived for your reaction.

Nothing too rude — she was satisfied with your irritated face when someone clung to her, or the ostentatious indifference when another alpha tried to "seduce" her (as if they could hope for something), or the cold when someone asked if you were her alpha.

As if the mark on her neck wasn't a telling enough sign. Or that she didn't leave your side.

Or the way you looked at everyone who bothered her.

"Don't touch her"

Daki watched curiously as you tightly gripped the other alpha's hand and gently held her to you. Not that she enjoys your jealousy...

Well, she enjoyed your jealousy.

"Touch her again", you gripped the other's hand even tighter, "and I'll chew out your too-long arms, as well as your brain, which apparently isn't there. Got it?"

You're not exactly aggressive.

If you were an unbalanced type of alpha, you wouldn't be able to be a couple with her for so long.

You were just annoyed when others touched your omega.

Even if she could protect herself.

"You shouldn't have been so aggressive", Daki later whispers seductively, clinging to your clothes as you stand in a dark corner of the club, out of the bright artificial light. "Everyone knows I'm your omega. They wouldn't dare claim me"

Everyone knows you're her alpha. Only for some reason they ignore it.

Probably because if an omega smells like an alpha, it's not a sign that the omega is "marking"

What an abomination.

You looked seriously at your girlfriend, who cocked her head to one side, hanging on your every word.

So cute when she's not trying to play on your instincts.

"I'm not acting this way because of aggression against another alpha. I'm acting like this because no one can touch you without permission... Do you understand? Nobody. Even me"

If you weren't in public, Daki would purr like an affectionate cat. You have already seen, even through the gloom, how contentedly she smiled.

The color of your favorite lipstick glistened in the faint light from the dance floor.

"And if anyone does that, or otherwise interferes with you, I officially declare that I will bite their throat out"

"And if they looks?"

"I'll suck their eyes out of their sockets. Don't underestimate me, babydoll"

Daki lifts up to kiss you on the lips, wrapping her fingers around your neck. More likely to strangle than let go.

When she pulls away, the light is surprisingly reflected in her amorous eyes. Running her hand through your hair, she gently touches it, smiling coquettishly.

"Never♡"

This corner seems to be getting too lit up. And crowded. Sometimes your girlfriend's popularity is a little tiring.

Daki falls silent, relaxing in a warm embrace, unusually silent and thoughtful. you look below out of habit, expecting to see a white collar preventing a mark, but instead you see a bare neck with half a necklace hanging from it.

The other part is hanging around your neck.

"It's getting late", you gently wrap your arms around Daki's waist, which is easy to handle, though knowing her by day she would try to playfully pull away. "And not safe for cute, sleepy omegas. Let's go home"

"Is it really that unsafe to have their strong and brave alphas around?" Daki responded playfully, smiling. "Let me see... no?♡"

"Daki..."

The girl responded with a shrug and a flirtatious wink, squeezing your hand.

"Convince me that we need to go home"

At least she's never boring.

"Safer at home?"

"No, more boring at home! But what about the people? Dancing? Communication?"

You took a deep breath, and omega just giggled.

"Can we cuddle at home?"

"... perhaps..."

"At home, we'll watch some TV shows and relax?"

Daki averted her brooding gaze, pausing before looking at you coquettishly, smiling.

"Okay, we can go home if you don't like clubs so much..."

👑🌟

The walk home was quieter than you originally thought.

"Daki, don't run on the ice, you'll fall"

"Daki, your lips are blue. Maybe you'd better wear my clothes?"

"Daki, hold on to me, please. It's safer and warmer"

"[Y/n], I'm not a little girl!"

"Of course not"

In the end, Daki agreed to hide in your clothes, and "led the way" while you slowly followed her, trying not to step on her feet.

You walked in silence, which was interrupted only by short questions "are we going there for sure?" and "yes, I know, I know!". Daki gave you long looks from time to time, the meaning of which you did not understand, but decided not to ask, guessing what thoughts appeared in her head.

"Don't leave my side, dear. I've heard that there are aggressive dogs here"

"Like I might want to get away from my warm alpha, mmm"

👑🌟

It was much more comfortable at home than at the club. There were no bright lights, no strange smells, no annoying alphas that you would love to chew through an artery if they came after your omega again.

What a joy that the law does not regulate this issue in any way.

Like the question of killing alphas by omegas when they want to abuse an omega.

You looked at Daki, who, in her favorite pink sweater (your birthday present, before you even thought about starting a relationship), was looking for something interesting in a box of CDs, her head pressed against your shoulder. Bending her legs in only short socks, Daki spent a long time sorting through the disks, dissatisfied with throwing unnecessary ones.

"How about we watch this?" there was a disk in front of your face that you didn't recognize. "Something romantic... or a melodrama... Just right for this evening!"

👑🌟

The film was not bad. Not too original, but atmospheric. With songs, winter and "Christmas miracle".

Putting your arm around Daki's waist, you pressed your lips to the mark, not being too interested in the plot. Daki gave you playful glances, but to the last played hard to get, ignoring your courtship.

After kissing her neck, you slowly put your hand on her knee, watching her reactions. Daki only snuggled closer to you, giggling for a moment as you gently ran your fingers along her thigh before returning to the film, "ignoring" you.

However, it definitely became harder for her to ignore you as your fingers gently traced the inside of her thigh, very close to her panties.

A slight blush appeared on her face.

Bringing her legs together and holding your hand between her thighs, Daki gave you a hot look before tilting her head forward, submissively baring the neck you pressed your lips to.

Daki hated it when you bit her.

👑🌟

Even after the credits ended, you continued to sit, using the light from the black, unplugged screen.

You felt very warm from the warmth of your girlfriend and the faint, sweet smell that made you feel a little dizzy. Daki, on the other hand, was much less sleepy — although she didn't stop fidgeting all through the movie, squeezing your hand, and now she was breathing heavily, digging her nails into your hands, but she was silent, thinking about something.

The pain was mild and bearable, but unpleasant.

Suddenly getting out, Daki pulled you towards her, once again starting to smile coquettishly, hinting at a surprise.

And when her back hit the floor, she grabbed the sweater and pulled it up. Smiling cheekily, she raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Isn't that what you wanted, my love? Watch a movie and relax? Your omega is ready for anything♡"

It was hard to deny that now, lying under you, with her cheeks so rosy and her expression so confident, she didn't look... attractive.

Very attractive.

"And? Why are you only looking? My breasts are waiting♡"

And grabbing your head, Daki confidently placed it on her chest while continuing to smile cheekily. One hand clutching the clothes on your back, the other she placed on your head, stroking, watching you.

Daki has always been a warm body, but you doubted that now you will want to fall asleep again. Although, her breasts were a great place to sleep — soft, with large, pink nipples that she once wanted to pierce.

Some pink jewelry would look great. In addition, you could play with the piercing — wrap your lips and gently pull. Or, if it's rings, you could come up with something about light chains.

Considering how masochistic Daki was, she would have liked that. As long as you don't tell her to obey you outside of bed.

"Hey, [Y/n]?" whispered Daki, continuing to stroke your hair as you gently played with her breasts, squeezing and rubbing to hear her moan, "I love you"

You stopped, looking from her breasts to your girlfriend.

"What are you looking at?" said Daki excitedly, still patting you on the head. "I mean... look, even if you threaten to hit the other alphas, or, you know, kill them, I appreciate it. I know I'm acting like I don't like it, but I don't. It's kind of nice"

You were still looking at your girlfriend, which made her even more embarrassed.

"Okay! Good! It turns me on when you act like a bossy alpha! All right?! Stop staring like that! This is normal for omega!"

Grabbing the nipple, you pulled slightly, causing Daki to suddenly moan, spreading her legs for you.

You immediately moved your hand lower, gently stimulating through the thin, already wet panties, to which Daki abruptly squeezed your hair, trying to grip your hand tighter.

You pressed harder, indulging your girlfriend, moving your fingers more roughly, as if you were trying to tear your panties and get inside.

But your pressure was interrupted by Daki, pulling you and aggressively kissing you on the lips, not allowing you to pull away, with the second hand trying to caress you to those places that she could reach.

She swung her leg over your hip and pulled you back, panting and shivering.

"I love you too, my Queen"

It was even wetter between her legs, and the completely wet panties made it easier for you to slide over her labia, but prevented her from having an orgasm. Even the faint touch of her clit, though it sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, only made her tease harder.

"Damn it, just rip it off me already!" she whispered, trying to kiss you again, "or I'm about to bring myself to orgasm"

"Who can make you better than yourself?"

"Damn, I hate you!"

👑🌟

There was something cute about how red Daki was, biting the edge of her sweater and masturbating in front of you.

With ringing, squelching sounds, then penetrating inside with her fingers, caressing herself from the inside, then taking them out, stroking her labia, she purred charmingly while you stimulated her wet clit.

The performance, consisting of her reaction and sounds, was delightful.

Arching, she trembled, her mouth open and her legs clenched sharply, blocking your view. You only began to caress more slowly, feeling a strong tremor, continuing until she again spread her legs.

Slipping down to you, Daki clung trustingly to your shoulder, wet and shivering.

"You see", you began gently, massaging the girl's back, "you're doing just fine on your own, like a big girl"

The bite on the shoulder looked more like a symbol of embarrassment and indignation than defiance. Especially with that sweet, red face she tried to hide from you.

"Shut up", Daki said, catching her breath. "Shut up and get on the couch. And take off your clothes. We're not done yet"

"Oops?"

"My mouth isn't just made to rip out your opponents' throats and bite you if you didn't know it"

#daki x reader #daki #gender neutral reader #demon slayer scenarios #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #🍮.omegaverse au #🍮.modern au #submission #nsft #kimetsu no yaiba smut #daki smut #🍡.masturbation #🍡.petting

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shadowling-guistical · 3 years

Text

rubberband heartbreak

"What kind of— What kind of person says that?! What kind of monster is grateful for their soulbond snapping?“ Roman says, wondering.

And all Janus could hear was his baby brother’s desperate, unhinged laugh as he clawed at his own skin.

And all he could see was red. Angry, smoldering red.

(Janus didn’t think the overdramatic prick even saw the fist coming.

***

Virgil had a soulmate, once. What a beautiful, awful, painful thing. (READ ON AO3 HERE) SHIPS: Established LMP, Established Demus, Past Virgil/OC, eventual LAMP, Eventual Remile

WARNINGS: Minor Character Death, Domestic Violence, Angst

--- It would have been roast chicken again that night. It was in the oven, sitting on a bed of potatoes and carrots that perfumed their little house with a smell that was honestly heavenly. No matter how many times he had that exact meal, he thought he could eat that meal for the rest of his life. He’s pretty sure he will. It was the only thing his soulmate knew how to cook without requiring an emergency call to the firestation, after all. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A bottle of semi-fancy wine was cooling in a bucket of ice on the counter, just waiting to be opened. It was the exact type that they had drunk when they made their courtship official, and the nostalgia and memories only made the taste that much sweeter.

Fresh flowers sat prettily in a vase on the kitchen table in a bunch. Violets, his favorite. His soulmate had bought home earlier while all twitterpated.

It was the perfect set up for a date night-- Simple. Elegant. Romantic. Everything someone could ask for in a night in with their soulmate.

And despite all that, all Janus Sanders wanted to do was vomit. Or maybe find a seat. No, a fainting couch. Yeah, he might need a fainting couch.

He briefly wondered if those are still a thing. It should be. God it should be. if the lightheadedness that began lapsing at the edge of his brain were any indication, he really needs it right about now. He nervously tapped a finger on whatever surface it met with, which turned out to be the countertop of their kitchen island. At the back of his head, he registered his knees slightly shaking, and his heart trying to pound out of his ribs. He really should have sat down before he answered the call.

“Yes…” He spoke into the phone that had been glued to his ears ever since the call came, just minutes before the start of his date night with Remus. He spoke without really registering what he was saying. The buzzing in his brain prevented him from catching anything other than bits and pieces of gentle concern and medical jargon. However, icicles are still icicles. And no matter how hard the person at the end of the line tried to soften the blow, each one still dug into his chest. It pierced so harshly and the coldness spread downwards to his stomach.

Urgent.

Emergency treatment.

He needed his family.

He needed them.

With just a phone call, Janus’ whole evening grinded to a halt, “I see. Thank-- right. Of course. We’ll-- We’ll come down. Yes. Thank you. He-- I understand. Goodbye,” Before Janus could even recover, before he could even process the fact that--

“Janus?”

Janus blinked. His hand fell limp by his side, and he didn’t even realize that he was still gripping the phone. Oh-- oh, Remus . He didn’t realize that his boyfriend had even come downstairs. How long was he--? “Jan, are you okay?” Remus’ sharp, bright eyes darted at his form, knowing that the answer is obviously a big fat no, “What’s going on snakey? Is it Remy?”

The icicle twisted, and for a moment Janus thought it must have melted out of his eyes. Oh god-- oh god, Remy . How will he explain this to Remy?--

It would wreck him. Absolutely destroy him when he finds out.

Because he was--

He was…

Janus’ breath came out shaking. His hands even more so. His composure took the worst of it.

They were supposed to protect him. They were supposed to be there for him and annoy him and beat up anyone that dared look at him the wrong way. Because they were his-- They were his-- “I--” He swallowed around the weight lodged in his throat. He must looked as dazed as he felt, because Remus’ expression turned from cautious curiosity into grim concern, “I don’t--”

Janus never babbled before. He was never at a loss for words. He always know what to say-- He should know what to say-- Because he needed to call Remy-- He needed to explain--

The thought was squeezed out of him when Remus took him into his arms. The hug that Remus suddenly enveloped him in shouldn’t feel as relieving as it did. He shouldn’t have felt that small, that unsure nor that scared. But Janus felt everything buzzing in his brain melt away as he felt his soulmate squeeze him.

“Hey...Hey...Shh...It’s cool. It’s okay,” He felt Remus’ breath against his ear and this time, he didn’t shiver out of fear, “Breathe...That’s it. I won’t have you asphyxiating anywhere else other than in bed, you hear me?” Involuntarily, like Remus always somehow does, he dragged the smile out to Janus’ lips. And in return, he grinned as well. Remus dragged a thumb across Janus’ cheekbones, “There’s that pretty smile. Can you tell me? Or do you want me to--?”

Janus felt a shudder ripple through his chest, and he shook his head. He didn’t need to. He didn’t need to rely on their soulbond for this. He didn’t want to submit Remus to the knot of thoughts and panic that were all tangled up in his brain right now. “That’s okay. Okay Jan,” He felt his large hands rub his back, up and down. But Janus shook his head. “It’s--everything’s not okay, Remus. Far from it--” He brought up a hand, gripping the fabric of Remus’ shirt, “My brother’s-- Virgil’s in the hospital. His-- His soulbond broke,”

---

Remy had come to their home a little over an hour later, looking very much similar to Janus did. Remus noticed the pinched, spooked look on the eldest Sanders’ face, now that his sunglasses were perched up on the crown of his head. He had smiled wanly, and offered a reassuring hand on Janus’ shoulder. But it was brittle and unsure. Both of them reeling from what Remus assumed was shock.

Janus however, then stepped closer. He nearly folded into his brother, who immediately inhaled as if he was punched. Immediately, Remy wrapped his arms and squeezed. Remus, for all the times he would say something at the most inopportune moments, had let him. And Janus couldn’t have thanked him enough. No judgement. No comments. Just someone who wanted-- needed, his big brother right now.

“You know, I can come with? Take turns driving,” Remus offered, once Janus slowly let himself unlatch from Remy. He cleared his throat and shook his head, starting to put on his composure like a mask.. The effect was instantaneous. Janus' back straightened, and the perfect picture of calmness rippled through him like waves on water. Remus felt his heart twitch in his chest when Janus did. Did his soulmate really want that now? He barely allowed himself room to breathe

“No. It’s okay. We’ll manage. It’s...It’s a family matter, Remus. I’m not sure-- I’m not sure if it’s the best time, right now,” “We’ll call whenever we can,” Remy promised, as Remus helped haul Janus’ duffle bag into the trunk of Remy’s car. He didn’t need to, really, it was only filled with some spare change of clothes and toiletries but...It was still a nice gesture. Before they were set to leave, Janus hugged Remus one last time. The hug that Remus tugged him into nearly made Janus melt and his composure shift. His soulmate was all gangly limbs, bony and sharp. But in this warm skeleton cage, Janus never felt more safe. Remus was like that, Janus had realized. Unlike his twin, his gestures of romance were...A lot more subtle. A lot more tame, actually, compared to the larger than life person that Remus always was. And on the verge of entering a storm, Janus couldn’t help but revel in the stability that Remus unwittingly always provides.

“You’re stuck with me,” Remus smiled, easy and teasing as he nudged Janus’ chin with his knuckle.

The rattling inside his chest petered out, as if Remus was sapping away his worries about Virgil with just a touch. For the first time, each second doesn’t feel like it’s one moment closer to losing Virgil anymore. There was a storm on the horizon, but it hadn’t rained yet. The clouds will part, and the sun will shine again.

Something deep inside him loosened, a knot of tension slowly unravelling.

It’ll be okay.

Virgil will be okay.

“Not going to get off me that easily, Squid,” Janus replied with a lot more warmth than he’d ever let anyone else hear. He’d keel over and perish before anyone else at his firm knew that he’s a sap. He has a reputation, for god’s sake.

“If you start making out, I’m leaving without you!” Remy called, already slipping into the driver’s seat. A hand reached for the coffee he grabbed on the way there, taking a blasé sip. Janus sighed and finally parted from his soulmate. Once he was secured, Remy handed him the coffee and smiled, looking a lot more fragile than Janus had ever seen him. Even more than the time…

“Let’s go get our little brother, shall we?”

Despite the circumstances, something in his heart swelled.

Little brother. They were getting their little brother back.

---

“He’s probably going to be okay, right?”

The hospital loomed, large and daunting. It was a behemoth of a building, stark white against the sky, which was a gunmetal grey from the threat of an approaching storm. Janus felt like he was 20 again, young and viper-tongued. But instead of angry and bristling, he’s...desperate. Out of his depth. Hurting and worried and strung out. Maybe it was the long drive talking. Maybe it was the prospect of seeing Virgil again, years later after their messy goodbye.

The only thing preventing Janus from nervously cracking his knuckles right now, just meters away from the entrance, was the musical notes playing right at the back of his head. It was faint, and he could still just ignore it over the din of people. The chords were familiar, the lyrics faint. But it settled in his bones and stopped it from rattling. Remus must have been listening to a lot of music today, he faintly thought. His soulmate’s playlist had looped back from Vocaloid, to the Hamilton Polka, and back to Video game OSTs for the third time now. Despite the questionable choice of a playlist, Janus appreciated it just the same. That feeling of having one person that was always thinking of you, connected through musical notes and voice and thoughts.

“I don’t know…” Remy admitted. Janus didn’t point out his habit of absentmindedly rubbing his bicep. He didn’t need to judge someone for trying to leech some comfort from a soulmate he hadn’t had the pleasure to meet yet. “I think we just need to be prepared,

---

They said that Virgil laughed.

He had laughed as he did it. Agony must have ripped through him top to bottom. It would have fizzed and flared back up again- leaving him a writhing mess on the floor of his own home. It burnt through him and made him suffer. Yet, he had laughed .

Virgil laughed.

He was still laughing when they got to him , the nurse had said.

Janus clutched his nephew as he slept, his own heartbeat beating in time with his pounding head. He remembers Virgil’s laugh. The cackle, a pleased, borderline mischievous sound.

Now, he wishes he could wipe his head clean from it.

Thomas suddenly whimpered, and Janus fussed over him again. No matter what lullaby he sang, or any reassurance he whispered to the toddler, nothing had erased the sudden cold dread that had washed over him after they knew. Nothing could stop the child from crying out and demanding for the comfort of his father. Nothing could bleach Janus’ brain from the sight of those awful, black cracks spreading out on Virgil’s skin like Lichtenberg scars.

After they found out what that bastard --

That absolute beast of a conniving, cowardly, sniveling bastard--

Janus pulled in a raspy gasp, trying hard not to let a single sob go through his composure. Not when it took this much effort to make sure he was calm enough to take care of Thomas. His nephew had spent the time with medical personnel since they were both brought in, and Janus wanted to make sure that wouldn’t happen again. The boy needed to be with family.

His family.

Their family. Because Thomas is his nephew. His only nephew--

… Oh stars, he had a nephew.

They came in expecting their brother, only to meet their nephew. Janus didn't feel ready for this. He needed to-- He need to be--

Janus squashed the pained noise in his throat. Ready? What a thought. he would laugh if he wasn't so haunted by Virgil's. He isn't ready. His baby brother’s soul had snapped in two, frayed into anguish and Virgil had laughed.

And there was absolutely nothing-- nothing that could prepare them for this.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #soulmate au #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #remy sanders #ts virgil #ts janus #ts remus #ts remy

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maybe-your-left · 3 years

Note

GETTING CAUGHT HAVING SEX BY PARENTS WITH EITHER SACKLER OR ALTMAN!💖🥰

MY ANGEL, I LOVE YOU😘😘😘😘

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE KITTEN.

PHILLIP ALTMAN

“I can’t believe we have to sleep in the basement...”

You patted Phillip's shoulder, handing him a pile of blankets with a small smile, “It's okay, your sister needed to use your bedroom and we’ll be okay down here.”

“But,” Phillip tossed the blankets down before wrapping you in his arms. Softly swaying you as you both stood, “I really wanted to make you squirt in my teenage bedroom.”

“Phil!” you swatted him, trying to push away.

“I know, I’m ashamed... but you look so pretty when you do.”

You cocked a brow, eyes darting towards the fold-out bed and then up to Phillip's face. His eyebrows shot up, mouth making an ‘o’, “You dirty minx, you want me to make you squirt here? In my family basement? Next to the laundry?”

“I guess we would have easier cleanup.”

Phillip threw you to the bed, already yanking your leggings down to your ankles before pinning your legs to your chest. Your pussy lifted in the air, right under his chin as he rubbed his beard into your clit. Scratching the sensitive nub, making it twitch in pleasure. You let out a soft yip, hugging your ankles tighter with anticipation. Phillips tongue darted out, licking from your cunt to clit, flicking it over and over as it stiffened more and more. “Philly,” whimpered, bottom lip trembling as he lapped at you over and over.

“What is it? Does my minx want something?”

You nodded, spreading your legs enough for your face to pop out for him. Clenching in his face for you to notice how eager for him to shove anything into you. Phillip nodded in understanding, “Keep your legs up,” he demanded. Pulling off the bed to abandon his shoes before losing his belt. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up before smacking the outside of both your thighs. Watching the supple flesh jiggle before he gripped them tightly and rocked your body towards him. A hand flew to his zipper, yanking it down to pull out his hard cock. Phillip placed a forearm across the back of your thighs, pulling one of your hands to wrap around his girth.

“Play with me, play with your favorite toy minx.”

Your hand squeezed his base, his knees moving his body closer to your hand as he spat on your pussy. Without warning Phillip shoved two fingers until you, hooking them to immediately attack your special bundle of nerves on your front wall. Pulling a wail from your throat in response, your hand stroking him harshly. Your walls began clenching over and over as he fingered you, faster than he ever had. You took in the sight of him, focusing so hard on making you cum. His bicep bulging out of his shirt, his forearm clenched on your legs. The vein on the side of his neck straining against his skin, his soft mouth was popped open in awe as your pussy opened for him. Allowing him to worm in a third finger, “You’re so good for me, you’d do anything to make me happy wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! Phil!” you slipped your fist on his tip over and over. Squeezing over and over as you passed the ridge, gathering his precum and gliding it along his length. Phillip groaned at you, eyes momentarily closing in bliss as his fingers let up. You whined at the loss, bucking as much as you could in your current position.

“You know what would make me so fucking happy?”

You shook your head.

“If you squirted,” he fucked into you fast and hard, your slick gushing out of you as he moaned. “Want you to soak my sleeve, can you do that for me? I can feel how bad you want to.”

“Ah! Please, just a little more!”

Phillip nodded at you, moving his free hand to press into your folded lower abdomen. Applying just enough pressure for you to crack, convulsing in his grip as you wailed. Pussy squirting over and over along him, just as he asked for, your cum running down his forearm as he looked at you in awe.

“Again baby.”

You cried, body aching but you couldn’t stop yourself. His fingers wouldn’t stop fucking into you to stop you from cumming again. You brought a hand up to gather some of your spend, clicking it along his length as you tried to give him a hand job while he made you fountain for him. Phillip groaned, wrapping his lips around your clit in appreciation. Moaning as he tasted your cum, easing one finger out of you, softly petting your walls with his middle and forefinger.

You were drunk on him, eyes lazily opening as you stared at the stairs to your left. Breath catching in your throat when you saw Phillip’s mom momentarily stalled in the middle of the stairs.

“I heard commotion, but I see you both are just fine...”

“Mommy!” Phillip cried, his palm trying to cover your sex from his therapist mom’s eyes, “Announce yourself next time!”

She pranced back up the stairs, yelling over her shoulder before the door shut.

“Like you could hear me over her screams!”

ADAM SACKLER

“Hey,” you snapped in Adam’s face, “You need to be good today. This is your first impression, and they weren’t thrilled when you made sex noises the other day while I was on the phone.”

“Your sister laughed. I heard her.”

You rolled your eyes as you straightened the collar on his shirt. He looked ridiculous, you had dressed him in some nice pants and a button-up, something he didn’t even own until 24 hours ago. He was much too big for normal shirt sizes at the store, his biceps looked like they were going to explode out at any moment. And the pants left little to the imagination, thank god you found dark slacks so his bulge wasn’t noticeable to the naked eye. But your parents were taking you and Adam to a nice restaurant before going back to the house for dessert. He scratched at his neck after you finished, whining when you swatted his hands away. “Fuck, I can’t breathe,” Adam cried, “I look like I mugged a bellboy and stole his clothes.”

“You look very responsible baby,” you kissed his cheek before walking to the front door, grabbing your clutch and opening the front door. “Let's go, before you rip that shirt.”

Your parents were civil at dinner, asking Adam questions about his theater work and woodworking. About hobbies and interests outside of his main focus, where he was from, other nosey questions that he handled like a champ. If it weren’t for the flashcard training you made him go through the past week he probably would’ve gone on a personal tangent about his personal opinions on the salad your dad chose to eat but he knew you wanted him to make a good impression. You were so proud of him, holding his hand under the table and squeezing it when he made a smart joke, or made your mom blush when he gave her a slightly offhand compliment. By the end of it, you could tell he was drained from being personable, his trademark smile was fading as it dragged on. Finally your parents paid the bill and asked you both to follow them home.

Adam let out a big groan when he got into the car, throwing his face towards you as he sighed, “Kid, that was exhausting. This shirt is so uncomfortable and I couldn’t touch you under the table the entire time because your dad was watching me like a hawk.”

“You did so well,” you grabbed his cheeks and gave him a big kiss. Lingering long enough for him to relax into you, humming as your lips worked over one another. Softly tasting each other, Adam’s tongue briefly licked into your mouth, forcing your jaw to open enough to take him. A warm palm slid to your bare thigh, peaking through the slit in your dress. A deep groan sounded into your mouths as he whispered on your lips, “And you looked so good, it took everything in me to devour you. So soft, all for me.”

You smiled, nudging his hand away, “Come on, they are going to be mad if we're late.”

Dessert was quick, all of you flooding into the den where your parents told stories about their college years and courtship. You could tell Adam was checked out, focusing on you more than anything else. After a few glasses of wine, you were feeling flush, turning your attention to your handsome man. Watching you with total admiration and devotion, you wanted to eat him up. And you found that you couldn’t wait to get home.

“I’ll be right back,” you told the room, slowly sauntering away. Letting your hips sway just a little too much, but you knew your parents didn’t notice. They were too into whatever they were talking about to see you and Adam eye-fucking each other. As you turned the corner, you heard Adam excuse himself to the kitchen to get some water, your parents paying him no mind either. The two of your locked eyes, Adam’s completely black as they raked up and down your figure. You gave him a big smile before running up the stairs, Adam's footsteps following close behind.

The door to your childhood bedroom was soon shut as softly as possible before Adam had you pinned to the mattress. Facedown as you giggled at him, hands fisting the sheets as you heard him fall to his knees behind you, his large hands pushing your skirt above your hips.

“You’re such a dirty slut,” Adam groaned, pulling your panties to the side before he shoved his mouth to your folds. Licking deep through them, tasting every inch of your flesh. His thumbs hooked into you, prying you apart so he could look in awe, “Fucking best cunt ever, been teasing me with it all night. Not letting me fuck it before we left.”

You moaned when he dove in again, strong tongue fucking in and out of your entrance. Slurping up your slick that poured into his mouth, filling the room with the sound of your excited sex. You rocked your hips back into him, mouthing at the sheets as he groaned into you, “Coulda filled you with my cum, made you sit in it all night.”

“Sackler...”

“You want like that? Having to sit across from your dad full of my cum? He’d be so disappointed in what a filthy slut you are.”

Adm smacked your thigh, a little too loud, before standing up. He ran his hands across your ass, gripping and bouncing your cheeks as he ground his slacks into you. “M gonna fuck you, right here. Make them hear you and all the pretty noises you make for me.”

“Please,” your voice broke as you looked back at him. Your mascara slightly clumping from the tears that were building from the teasing. “Give me your cum, wanna feel it deep inside me. Please Sackler.”

His zipper was pulled down, yanking his slacks down mid-thigh while he fished his cock out. Lewdly smacking it on your cheeks to leave a smear of precum, slipping it between your legs as fucking your clit a few times. “You gonna show me? How deep I can bury my cum inside your little cunt?”

You clenched in anticipation, his head at your entrance as you nodded, “I’ll show you, baby, want your cum.”

Adam growled as he pushed in, seating himself to the hilt. Cock head rubbing your cervix before he pulled back, beginning to thrust wildly into you without abandon. Both of you creating a symphony of moans, bare skin slapping against one another as you gushed around him. Adam laughed as he fucked you, “Fuckin’ tight cunt, always so wet for me. You like me fucking you here, letting your family know what a slut-.”

The door creaked open, both of you freezing, Adam’s cock buried inside you as your mom’s head popped in.

“Hey, sweetie, letting you know we’re headed to b-Oh my god!”

“Mom!”

She squealed again, eyes darting back and forth between Adams sweaty smile and your fucked out face. She slapped a palm over her eyes, backing out of the room, “I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-oh my- we’re going to bed!”

You heard her footsteps scurry away, leaving the door slightly ajar in her haste. Adam laughed, thrusting into you harshly as he smacked your ass, “They are never going to forgive me for this.”

You giggled at him, bouncing back, desperate to finish. Adam groaned as you clenched around him, canting his hips harder into you. Pounding your cervix with each thrust, he bent over your body. Chest flush with your back as he licked your ear, “Too bad it wasn’t your dad.”

#adam sackler #adam sackkler x reader #phillip altman #phillip altman x reader #oneshots #ask fridays #i love both the goblins #ashleigh i am dehydrated #adamdriver #adam driver #historyandfandoms50

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Hey, everyone! I’ve been saying for a bit I want to get some fics from prompts I’ve written onto AO3 but...it’s so hard...ok it’s not hard, Executive Dysfunction is just kicking my butt. I’m going to post some of them to Tumblr today. If you want to help these babies get on AO3, they need: titles, tags, you pestering me in the comments. If you don’t think they’re good enough for AO3 - fair enough, just hit the little heart if they make you smile!

Prompt: Aziraphale reading to Crowley

(Requested by @zadusk and @lyricwritesprose)

“Sorry, can’t help you,” the innkeeper said, “just rented out our last room.”

“What?” Crowley crossed his arms, huffing through his nose. This was Bethlehem all over again. “This town is in the middle of nowhere, it has three inns, how can they all be sold out?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” The innkeeper shut the ledger. “Everyone’s headed down to London, and we’re on the way. Now. I can offer you a hot meal, and for, let’s say, half the price of a room you can sleep in the stables. The hay loft is clean, apart from the mice—”

“Stablesss!” Crowley hissed, slapping his hand on the counter. “Do I look like someone who sleeps in stables?”

The innkeeper didn’t appear remotely impressed. “You look like someone who is going to be sleeping in a hedge. Looks like a storm tonight. Good evening.” And he spun away, calling out to the cook in the back room.

“Oi!” Crowley shouted. “Get back here, you—!”

“Crowley! Whatever are you doing here?” The familiar voice was half delighted, half scolding. Aziraphale appeared beside him, same white suit as the last time they’d met, top hat tucked under his arm. “I thought I made it clear we shouldn’t see each other so often. Since I opened the shop, it’s been—”

“Yes, I know.” Crowley waved a hand and turned away. “I’m not here for you, Angel, I have actual business in York.”

“Really?” Despite his words, Aziraphale trailed behind him. “How interesting. I’m just returning from York – oh, no, you don’t think they’ve sent you to undo all my work again, do you?”

Crowley snorted. “No bet.” He dropped his voice into a low whisper. “This is why we need to meet up more often. Look at all this time we’re wasting! And now I have to march through the bloody night in the rain because there’s no place to sleep—”

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t dream of it. You can share my room.”

“Ngk?!” Crowley’s brain crashed into his skull with all the speed and grace of a train wreck. “Mf. Yk. No I can’t – Aziraphale!”

“Oh, my word – obviously, I’m not planning – that!” His voice dropped even lower and he tugged on Crowley’s elbow. “Don’t be crude, dear fellow. I have a room with a bed that I’m not intending to use. You can have it. I just need a chair to sit in while I read.”

“Jgk.” Crowley turned away, taking a deep breath through his nose. It made sense. He could sleep. Aziraphale could read. No getting soaked, or lost in the dark, or needing to fight off highwaymen or anything of the sort. “Fffine. We can. Er. Do that.”

“Jolly good.” He could practically hear the angel straightening his waistcoat. “Now that’s settled. I’ve already had my supper and was about to head up. Unless you’re hungry—”

“No, no, now is fine.” He still couldn’t quite meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “Lead the way.”

The room, it turned out, was nearly as advertised.

A double-sized bed with a straw-tick and a quilt. A little stand with a pitcher of water and bowl for washing up. Windows that could be tightly shuttered to block out some of the city noise.

The only thing missing, really, was the chair.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s fingers tapped on his book and he glanced around, as if a seat might be hiding in the corner. “Well, er…”

“It’s fine. I can leave.” Crowley turned on his heel and reached for the latch.

“Absolutely not! I won’t hear of it. You get settled and I’ll – ah – I’ll miracle in a chair.” He peered around the narrow room. “Somewhere.”

“Look, I can—”

“No. Miracle yourself a nightgown or whatever it is you need.”

“I—”

“Hush!”

Resigning himself, Crowley waved his clothes into something more comfortable for sleeping and crawled under the blanket. It was…slightly better than sleeping in the stables, he supposed. The straw was lumpy and the sheet covering it coarse, but the pillow was well-stuffed with goose-down, a luxury he could get used to. He shifted onto his back, trying to find a comfortable angle.

Instead, he found Aziraphale, standing beside the bed, staring blankly at the wall. “There…well…it would appear there isn’t room for a chair,” he confessed. “Not one that will fit my, er…my current corporation comfortably, that is.”

Crowley looked at the ceiling. He could sleep up there, but it would mean abandoning the pillow. Or. Or.

“Look, Angel,” he said as casually as he could. You can, um, you can sit on the bed. I’m not going to be offended or anything. It’s fine.”

“No, I couldn’t – couldn’t possibly—”

“Aziraphale. It’s really fine.”

The quilt tugged, folded back, and with a rustle of straw Aziraphale settled into the mattress. He sat straight, stiff, and so close to the edge he might topple off.

Even so, he was alarmingly close.

“You, um. You need the candle?”

“No, my own light will be sufficient, thank you.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” Crowley tossed his glasses onto the little table and waved a finger at the candle, which immediately snuffed out, leaving the room dark except for the soft glow of Aziraphale, gently illuminating his book.

Crowley closed his eyes and prepared to fall asleep.

He turned onto one side. No good, too close to the edge.

He turned the other way, or started to, freezing when he felt how close the angel’s warmth was.

Then he lay on his back again. The whole room fell very, very still.

“Bless it, Aziraphale, will you relax?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I can practically hear your muscles creaking. How am I supposed to all asleep with all that – that tension barely six inches away!”

“I don’t know what you might be referring to. I am – am perfectly relaxed here, reading my book and you – you interrupt with these – these pointless accusations.”

Crowley gave up and turned on his side, facing Aziraphale, giving him as hard a stare as he could manage. “Your book is upside down, Angel.”

“Is it?” He swallowed. “I mean, of course it is. I am training myself to read upside-down text, a highly useful skill, which I’m sure—”

Crowley shut his eyes. “This was a terrible idea.” He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Look, Aziraphale, neither of us is actually comfortable with this. So I’m just going to head out. If I leave now, I might make it to the next town before the rain starts, and maybe they’ll have a room. You can have this one and—”

“Crowley,” he said, voice much softer than expected. “My dear fellow. I won’t be able to relax knowing you’re out there. I know you won’t be in – in any real danger but…I would rather know that you’re safe.”

He stared ahead, sitting perfectly still in the way that only beings who aren’t really alive can – no breath, no heartbeat, no tiny motions.

Then, slowly, Crowley pulled his legs back under the quilt and lay on his back.

“What’s this book about, anyway?” he asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“It’ll help. Trust me. What is it – poetry? Ancient epics about glorious wars? Not Hamlet again, I hope, that play is a gloomy mess of—”

“No, nothing of the sort. It’s…well, it’s a sort of love story.”

That didn’t sound too bad. “Sort of?”

“Well, yes, it’s more a – a study of the manners and traditions of courtship. Our heroine is the second of five sisters, and there’s a great deal riding on finding them suitable husbands, but her choices are, well…not especially appealing.”

“Does she tell them to go jump in a lake?”

“Not in so many words,” Aziraphale said disapprovingly. “But yes, she has so far turned down two proposals quite bitingly. Although I think she was a bit hasty in her judgement of one of the young men.”

“I like it.” Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, and found the angel had relaxed, and moved just a little closer. “What’s it called, anyway?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” His fingers tapped against it. “Just released last year. I must try and find the author’s other work when I finish.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me how it ends.”

“Oh, are you…interested?”

“Hmm,” Crowley settled his head a little further into the pillow. “I do like a good drawing room drama. Perhaps I should pick out a few dresses and spend a year or two back in those circles.”

“As I recall, you were always deceitful and wicked and caused many a scandal.”

“I should hope so. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Aziraphale smiled down at him, and it made Crowley feel light-headed in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. “Then I imagine you’ll be brilliant at it.” He suddenly turned away, looking at the shuttered window. “Oh! Do you hear that? The rain has started.” The first drops were tapping against the shutters fitfully.

“Good thing I didn’t go out.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale looked at the book again. “Er, would you like me to…to read it to you? Just the first part, until you fall asleep.”

“I…” Crowley cleared his throat. “Yeah. I mean, your voice puts me to sleep half the time anyway, so…”

“Oh, yes, absolutely wonderful. Let me just get the first volume.” He hopped out of bed and hurried over to his jacket, rummaging in the pocket to pull out another hardcover book. When he returned to the bed, it was with almost no self-consciousness, wriggling comfortably against his pillow only a few inches away from Crowley.

“Now, let’s see…yes, here. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…’”

It was strange, seeing the angel from this angle, round face slightly lit by his own glow, little smile curving up his lips as the words bubbled out excitedly. His voice rose and fell as he read, trying to paint a picture of Longbourne and Netherfield and the lives of the Bennet sisters. Crowley could get used to it, the look, the sound, the soft familiarity of it all. Not that he was likely to have an opportunity.

He didn’t close his eyes. Not yet.

“‘But I can assure you,’ she added,” Aziraphale was quite enjoying the voice he had chosen for Mrs. Bennet, raising it now in slightly erratic excitement. “‘that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing.’” He shifted again, raising his arm to better articulate the dialogue. “‘So high and so conceited that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with!’” He dropped his voice into a vicious hiss. “‘I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set downs. I quite detest the man.’”

He glanced to his left, grinning, hoping to see Crowley’s reaction to his bit of acting, but the demon had at some point fallen asleep. He lay half on his back, still facing Aziraphale, shock of red hair across the white pillow. His mouth hung slightly open and something emerged that was almost a snore, but rather too small to really qualify. It was drowned out by the wind and rain outside, rattling the shutters. Now and then, in the distance, thunder rumbled.

“Well. I suppose…yes, you sleep now.” Aziraphale turned to put the book down, thinking to find the second volume and pick up where he’d left off.

“Nf.” Crowley turned onto his side, one arm flinging out towards Aziraphale’s waist. “D’n stp,” he mumbled. “Jus’ gettn gud.”

“Er, are you…awake?” The arm tightened slightly, and Crowley pulled closer, pressing himself against Aziraphale’s side. “Crowley, er, dear…you’re…”

“M’fine.” He sighed, not seeming aware of the world at all. “S’nice.”

For a long moment, Aziraphale stared at the demon who had – had invaded his space. Had settled against him in a most – most awkward and undignified way.

Well. There was really only one thing to do.

Aziraphale slid a little lower against the pillow, until he’d surrounded Crowley in the crook of his arm. “Is that better, dear?”

“St’ry.” But he settled into that space between Aziraphale’s side and his arm with a content sigh, arm now draped across the angel’s chest.

Oh, dear. This is not going to be easy to explain when he wakes up. But that wouldn’t be for several hours, at least, and right now, there was a very small smile on Crowley’s lips.

“Well. Chapter four. ‘When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much she admired him…’”

Thanks for reading! Pride and Prejudice was initially published in three volumes, in 1813, attributed simply to “The Author of Sense and Sensibility.” I have no idea what was going on in York in 1814 - I mostly needed someplace they could walk to but would take several days - so feel free to attribute whatever historical events you can think of to these dummies!

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #there's only one bed #aziraphale and his books #sleepy cuddles #sleepy snusband #short and sweet #fluff #good omens fluff #my writing #writing prompt #good omens prompts

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dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

introduction: a comprehensive guide of anything and everything relating to spending the night with leroy jethro gibbs. i’ve been writing and headcanoning gibbs for about four years now, so i’m basically an expert. so i’ll impart my wisdom upon all you gibbs fuckers out there. half-headcanon, half-character breakdown on how gibbs breaks your back.

table of contents

rule 9 - never assume (smashing stereotypes)

rule 1.2 - never screw over your partner (courtship)

rule 20 - always look under (this is his rifle)

rule 23 - never mess with a marine’s coffee (what he likes)

rule 38 - your case, your lead (doing the do)

rule 45 - clean up the mess that you make (or: aftercare)

conclusion

rule 9 - never assume (smashing stereotypes)

jethro is dispassionate. imagine thinking this man wouldn’t throw all of himself into his lover. couldn’t be me. just because he has walls and he’s careful about not opening up doesn’t mean the sex will be any less passionate. it is all or nothing for him.

he’s vanilla. sure, jethro may have some old-fashioned, vanilla tendencies. but i would describe him as a neapolitan ice cream: there’s some vanilla, but other flavors are there and it’s really dealer’s choice. jethro will likely change his tactics depending on if his lover needs some more rough, or sweet, or something that will take away their power.

there’s little to no aftercare. the harsh and distant federal agent that jethro portrays during the day does not translate into his sex life. he loves the people he’s close to, even if it’s difficult to show. but after sex, when the world is still so far away, jethro finds it the easiest to lean into his more vulnerable side. kiss and touch his lover without the fear of seeming weak. he wants to be able to take care of his lover, in all avenues of life.

he always need to be in charge. i won’t sit here and tell you that jethro finds no pleasure in taking on a more dominate role. but it would be a lie to say he doesn’t find it extremely fucking sexy when you take control and give him orders. tell him to strip down or order him to make you cum.

rule 1.2 - never screw over your partner (courtship)

jethro is, no surprise, a hard man to get close to. difficult, but not impossible. you should approach him as an equal and don’t let him play his bullshit games.

it’ll take time and effort to earn his trust. usually, gibbs can get annoyed by people overstepping their bounds with him. trying to push too hard to get him to open up when he isn’t ready. don’t go to him in hopes of somehow getting him to let his walls down. he’ll come to you when he’s ready.

gibbs responds best to lowkey, non-verbal acts of affection. bring him coffee when he’s low, share your lunch, take the annoying phone calls for him. he’ll notice the little things, and he’ll reciprocate. he’s most comfortable with non-showy affection.

be honest. be trust-worthy. don’t lie to gibbs (if you can help it.)

and don’t get frustrated if he seems to be reluctant to crossing certain lines. jethro’s moral code is very important to him, and he’s learned not to get that close with people if it’ll be complicated. so show him that those lines he’s so afraid of crossing aren’t so bad. show him that he can love people without it jeopardizing everything.

slowly, carefully, start flirting. once you’re comfortable with each other and there’s a mutual trust going on, gibbs will definitely respond to some flirting. at first, it’ll be playful. trying to fluster you because it amuses him. but over time, his jabs will become compliments. going from “you’re all dressed up, you got a date tonight?” to “you look nice.” very subtle shift, but very meaningful.

start getting touchy. try to insert yourself into his bubble. gibbs will need that extra push, and if you’re holding his arm or hugging him or putting a hand on his shoulder, that just gets him used to your touches.

eventually, jethro will realize that you somehow wriggled your way past his walls because you leave his house after having dinner together and he wishes you’d stay.

rule 20 - always look under (this is his rifle)

this part of the guide details key parts of leroy jethro gibbs’ body. sensitive areas, discussions of cock, and reactions to certain stimuli.

sensitive areas:

surprisingly, his hands can be very receptive to touch. he’s rough and a fighter and he builds boats, but touch his hands and he’s putty. this also includes taking his hands and leading them to where you want them to touch you.

squeeze, bite, and scratch his shoulders while fucking. jethro’s got some broad shoulders, and he does love the feeling of you digging your nails into his skin when he goes a little harder.

stroke his belly and chest while giving blowjobs. he’ll get goosebumps and it will drive his touch-starved nerves crazy.

touch his face while riding him. curve your hand around his jaw. go up into his hair. gibbs has a big thing about face touching

the marine’s load out

jethro’s cock is average in length, but his real bragging rights come from the girth. he’s thicker than usual, and he’s sure to fill his lover up full. jethro knows this, and that’s the reason why he’ll be keen on foreplay or making you cum on his fingers first. he’ll probably brag just a little bit.

when hard, jethro is about 5-6 inches. thick and heavy with a lighter shade of red. he can get a bit veiny if you work hard enough - get him wound up enough to where gibbs is just throbbing in your hand. at that point, you should absolutely start pumping hard and quick. that’s when he’s at his most sensitive and there’s a big potential for jethro to get fairly loud.

the volume of his pre-cum is kind of a random thing. sometimes there’s a lot, other times he’s pretty dry. don’t be afraid to use your own spit for a handjob, or go down on your knees to get him in your mouth. besides, gibbs likes it just a little bit messy.

when leroy jethro gibbs cums, there’s almost always a guaranteed chance of semen. like many avenues of his life, he will completely blow away your expectations. even if you make him cum several times throughout the day, he’s unlikely to start shooting blanks. jethro will give you a reward for all your hard work by cumming in your hand or mouth every single time. though, knowing him, this shouldn’t surprise anyone.

rule 23 - never mess with a marine’s coffee (what he likes)

jethro gibbs likes to add a bit of spice to the bedroom every once in a while. he knows exactly what he likes and doesn’t like, and he’ll be sure to tell you. but until then, here’s a quick and convenient list:

what he likes:

cumming on you

bondage

sub/dom dynamics

blindfolding

overstimulation

oral

lingerie

begging

barebacking

what he doesn’t like:

excessive dirty talk

pegging

clothed sex

use of toys

phone sex

roleplay / playing dress up

daddy kink

rule 38 - your case, your lead (doing the do)

with leroy jethro gibbs being sufficiently courted and now comfortable letting you in, it’s finally time to get down and dirty with him. after dinner and a couple glasses of bourbon (jethro’s way of wooing his lovers), he’s ready to take things to the bedroom. what now? follow these guidelines to ensure the best fucking this marine can offer:

jethro will automatically go into “take control” mode. he’ll be kissing you, touching you, keeping you distracted with his mouth and before you know it, his coat is on the floor and his hands are coming up the back of your shirt. don’t let him go it alone - touch him back. tug on his clothes. make him know you want him.

you should be the one to undress yourself, if you can help it. he would like to watch you slip your shirt off or shimmy out of your pants. you might feel a bit self-conscious under his gaze, but trust me. you’d be able to tell if gibbs didn’t like what he saw.

a big tip to fucking leroy jethro gibbs is to catch him off guard, sometimes. not everything has to be a surprise, but if he’s busy trying to suck a hickey into your neck, maybe palm him through his pants. or tug on his hair a little.

it’ll give him a bit of a rush, but jethro would also appreciate that you’re eager to give as well as receive. he’s had his share of selfish lovers in the past, so if you convey that you want to pleasure him as well? you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.

he’s good with his hands. he loves working with his hands. gibbs is almost too eager to push his fingers inside you and make you rock up against his palm. don’t be afraid to pull his cock out of his pants and start working him up, too. it’ll be almost too easy to have him grunting between clenched teeth. trying to focus on fucking you with his fingers but the glide of your hand is too good to concentrate.

but rest assured, jethro won’t stop until you cum on his fingers, at least once. he’ll have half a mind to make you cum once more, just because he can. he may not admit it (he’s not all that great at dirty talk) but gibbs loves hearing you cry out his name. loves your little moans when you’re getting closer. it’s almost enough to make him forget how hard he’s throbbing.

once he’s sure you’ve orgasmed an acceptable amount, jethro would be ready for the main event. usually, his go-to position is missionary. he’s old-fashioned, like that. it’s where he works the best. he’ll kiss you, let his hands wander and explore for a bit before penetrating. jethro is slow, at first. steady, but slow. he’ll want to work up his own rhythm, even if you’re begging for him to go a bit faster.

he relies more on power and strength than the speed of his thrusts, anyway. you probably will find it difficult to walk right the next day.

as he gets closer to climaxing, you’ll really start to notice. gibbs has this thing where he wants to get as close as possible when he’s cumming. when he’s close, just cling to him. touch him. wrap your legs around his waist and let him ride it out while grinding up against your body. and keep him close, even after jethro slows to a stop.

rule 45 - clean up the mess that you make (or: aftercare)

jethro gibbs will rely on a bit of aftercare, even if he doesn’t think so. he’ll be more than happy to offer it - he’s not the type to simply turn over and fall asleep without tending to his lover. but here are some ways to return the aftercare:

dozing together: curl up to gibbs, close your eyes, and just relax. he doesn’t need words or pillow talk; jethro probably would feel more at ease in comfortable silence. he prefers laying with his lover and simply enjoying the feeling that comes after a good fuck.

petting: stroke his hair. play with his hands. something soft and physical to help ground him. jethro doesn't hate physical contact - he’s just kinda touch starved. letting your fingers stroke over the skin of his chest really does wonders.

drinking bourbon: old habits die hard? this may be on a more rare occurrence, but gibbs would definitely appreciate a finger of bourbon. mostly after a quickie, but sharing a glass with him would surely good for his emotional well-being.

conclusion

this has been a quick, easy-to-digust guide on fucking leroy jethro gibbs. i’m glad you stuck with me through this analysis, and i do hope this helps you with any future fucking you may find yourself in. take this knowledge and do some good with it.

#ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine

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seancekitsch · 3 years

Text

Intended: Chapter 2

warnings: none i think??? talks abt betrothals and gender roles, canon witcherverse stuff

You arrive at the gates, half starved and littered in cuts and bruises. You cling to the dagger like it is the one thing keeping you alive. Foolishly, you had not rolled up the bed roll and taken it with you, so now your back bends at an odd angle filled with exhaustion and discomfort. After a stern conversation with the guards at the gates, the people of Brugge welcome you in. Lady Venzlav, the widowed sister of the queen, taking you in like an adoptive grown daughter. First thing she does is give you a much needed bath. She gives you new dresses, ones that go to the floor and do not show off your riding boots, ones that are suitable of a lady of the court and not of a vagabond or a traveler. You get new plaits in your hair gifts of jewelry from men at court to replace what you lost and as an attempt at flattery or courtship. For all intents and purposes, you return to your old life. Only, it's not. Your family, your home; it's all gone. You struggle to find new friends, a new place in the court despite Lady Venzlav’s encouragement and the welcoming of everyone else. But there is a twinge of pity in their eyes, and you feel it when your back is turned, you feel it licking at your back like the flames that Cahir- stop. You are safe. You are in Brugge; You can reinvent yourself as a Bruggian. You can forget the knight and the week in the woods.

Exactly a month and six days later, you find yourself waking from your fifth dream of the night in the black armor and his soft smile that used to make you swoon. These dreams are bittersweet, reminding you of the future that could have been, what you almost had. But they also stir up his lies. Cahir had looked you in the eye, kissed you, laid beside you and held you in his arms all while lying to him. He kidnapped you, but somewhere deep down you knew it wasn't meant like that. You know that every time you practice in your chambers, swinging clumsily with the dagger, sloppy movements in the mirror alerting you to all of your inadequacies. It reminds you of what else he could have taught you.

Lady Venzlav is a nice woman, if not set in her ways. She encourages the book reading, the writing, all of which you always loved. She encourages music and dancing, which are fine. But it’s the scripture and the belief of a woman’s place that tend to upset you. She believes you should be a good and dutiful wife, demure and obedient once you are betrothed to a suitor. She proactively considers you betrothed in her mind, and has been watching you closely. Had she known there was a dagger concealed in your stays when you had entered through the gates, especially a Nilfgaardian dagger, she would have had it destroyed. This was your big secret, one you were sure you'd be punished for if anyone were to catch you practicing combat with a weapon belonging to the enemy. The dagger feels heavy in your hand, it's a comforting heaviness, one that feels like safety and comfort. One that you can hardly bear to think about, for it reminds you of an embrace by a campfire. You're confident in your abilities, as clumsy and foolish as they might look. You had a good teacher, that you couldn't deny, and you know with practice you will only be better.

The dagger keeps your mind at bay. Your slashing and weaving in the mirror with a torn chemise and stays you kept hidden from Lady Venzlav making you feel strong and self sufficient like being on your own had made you feel. Lady Venzlav had been less than subtle about taking up your parents' mantle of having you married off sooner rather than later. Your status of a spinster did make you a questionable wildcard at court, and she already had several prospects for you. A small charity, she was going to let you pick from the possible suitors; all of them twenty years your senior, known for being womanizers or brutish, all abhorrent in their own special ways. Of course this is because you are an outsider. Although you may adopt the identity of being Bruggian, you are not, and you will not be afforded the luxury of a choice of Bruggian in your marriage prospects. Not that you mind better choices either, you intend to snub them all as you did the suitors in Cintra. Before your heart belonged to you alone, but now you fear you may have left it in the woods. You angrily throw the dagger to the ground, huffing at the thought of being resigned to the title of wife.

Cahir wanders alone. Heading slowly east, but mostly hoping to avoid any detection. He knows, should he be found to have failed his mission, to have failed to bring Cirilla back to Nilfgaard, makes him an enemy and a fugitive in his own right. He faces imprisonment, possibly execution, if he returns home. Truly, if he had just let the woman go, sent her to another kingdom or let her to her own devices, he might have been able to find Cirilla before she found herself with the witcher. He might have been able to succeed in the quest and been able to bring her to Nilfgaard, where he would have been rewarded and maybe even given a shiny medal or some other trinket that seems inconsequential now. But he knows that slim chance dried up like a stream in a drought, and now he walks in hopes of finding you, the one living soul on this continent that he would feel safe seeing, and even then you might run him through with that dagger when you see him. Cahir knows he would not blame you if you tried.

He had never, truly, intended you the harm or heartache he caused. He had realized the moment he entered Cintra that there was no good reason whatsoever a man like the emperor would want a little girl. Cahir always longed to be a knight, like the ones he would read about in legends and would play pretend as when he was a child. He wanted to be a hero, to help someone and be dashing and put his life on the line and return home with a hero's welcome where a nondescript beautiful lady would give him her favor and they'd fall in love, just like in the books. When he saw you, savage and hardy, the face of the woman he imagined as a child came into focus, features unblurred, sharpness set in. He knew he had to save you, even if he didn't fully realize what he was doing yet. He realizes the moment you leave that knighthood is no longer on his list of priorities. The moment he wakes up alone, his priorities in life become a humble one, wanting nothing but to be back by your side and to make you happy. Cahir is a realistic man, however, and knows traveling must be done by moonlight, and that if he is truly going to defect he must lose this armor somewhere along the way. He has been shunned from three towns he tried to search for you, and hopes none of them were where you were. There was one where he was able to work for a horse, and now saves his muscles riding. He has a good feeling about the next country over, about Brugge. This is where he heads now.

“Cahir, I mean to ask,” you start, a little nervous. What if he wasn't the man you knew him to be? The armor he wore did not reflect the gentle man he was. He nods, encouraging you to keep talking as he carves the fish he had caught earlier for dinner.

“Why don't you have the Nilfgaardian accent? You have the armor. You look the part, but you don't sound it.”

At your words, his posture straightens, a look of pride flashes across his eyes as he sets aside the fish to talk with his hands presumably.

“Ah,” he begins, “Beauty and extremely perceptive. That's because I’m not Nilfgaardian. I’m from Vicovaro.”

“Isn't that one of the Nilfgaardian vassals?”

“Yes, but it is also so much more.”

You can tell that this is a point of pride for him in the way he can't hide a smile, and the way his hands are already gesturing before his thoughts are fully out of his mouth. You fiddle absently with the hem of your skirts as he tells you of the beautiful sunny shores, the memories of the sun tanning his skin as a child, the magnificent sprawling schools, the beautiful ancient castles and lush greenery. He’s proud of his mother’s homeland and to bear her name along with his own. There is a difference between Vicovaro and Nilfgaard, how silly you were to not know it before.

“Vicovaro,” you repeat, tasting his home on your tongue. You'd only known Cintra, though you know you weren't a born Cintran. The cold and wind didn't suit you, often spending the winter months hiding indoors by a fire and writing away in your journals.

“Maybe one day I can take you there,” he offers, truly meaning it. You scoot closer to him, curling your fingers around his palm and bringing it to your lap.

“We could make it home,” you say, equally truly meaning it, “I’d follow you anywhere, Cahir.”

You lean in for a kiss.

Lady Venzlav’s screaming in the hall outside your chambers snaps you out of your memory. You scramble to hide the dagger back in your stays as her voice gets closer and what she says becomes more clear.

“It’s the army! The Nilfgaardian army, they’re riding to the gates!”

Again? Again you must flee from this army? Again you must watch your home and all of your belongings burn around you. Not this time, you resolve, you will not go down without a fight. There's no knight to kidnap you and spare you from whatever fate you face and that's how you want it. You tighten the laces on your boot and move across the room to fling the door open to find the lady your mentor.

“Nilfgaard is here? At the gates? We must fight!” you exclaim, head swiveling in search of anything to rip off the walls to help arm other women of the court if you were to need it.

“We must hide,” the older woman counters, no doubt remembering the sacking of Cintra, no doubt remembering the friends she lost. You decided it best not to tell her of the knight that helped you from the flames and the letter opener you’d swung screaming like a banshee and his gentle care in guiding you from peril, despite how you hope you'd never see him again, nor do you care what his fate might be.

“If hiding does not work, we need to have a choice,” you spit with finality, the scar on your collarbone looking garish in the torch light and reminding the good Lady Venslav of what you’d seen. She nods solemnly and goes further down the hall, no doubt to alert the other ladies of what they must do.

You, however, run to the window of the staircase at the end of the hall, the only one that gives you a view of the gate. There is exactly one knight on one dark horse making his way to the gate. Nilfgaard would never send just one soldier, you think, they are not in the business of parlay or envoys before an attack. It has to be a trick, a trap, a diversion, but why? It's not any of those things, it dawns on you, and your heart lurches into your stomach. It’s him.

You descend down the stairs in a fury, blindly pushing past guards and other nobles on your way to any level that will grant you access and force your way through until you reach the servants kitchen. There's always an exit in the servants kitchen. You untuck the dagger and hold it tightly in your hand, like a lifeforce in its own as you push through the heavy door that leads to the grounds. The grass is muddy, no doubt from the cold misty rain of the evening, and your boots sink slightly, slowing down your hellpath to the knight.

He immediately spots you, skirts flowing and the same ethereal anger following you as the night he met you and the night he lost you. He halts his horse and waits for you, a smile gracing tight lips despite the snarl he sees on your own face. You stop several feet away from him, the man you visit every night in your dreams but haunts your waking thoughts.

“Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach,” you address him with his full name, commanding attention you've already won.

“At your command, my lady.”

#cahir the witcher x reader #cahir x reader #my work

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kaitycole · 3 years

Text

The Winner Takes It All

Summary: Some insight on Constantine’s thoughts before he confronts Eleanor and Jackson

Word Count: 1462

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Eleanor x Jackson

Warnings: Mentions of adultery, illegitimate child, an affair

Song Choice: The Winner Takes It All - ABBA

Part 19.5 of WP. To catch up, read here.

A/N: This is just a piece to give you some deeper look into Constantine and his actual feelings rather than the mask he wore in the previous chapter.

For Constantine, it was true love the moment he laid eyes on Lady Liana Grayden. If he wasn’t bound by tradition, he would’ve cancelled his social season the first night. He knew without a fraction of a doubt that Liana was the woman for him, his queen. When she left him and Leo, Constantine was forced to remember the words his father repeated to him his whole life: Royals don’t get the luxury of marrying for love. That’s when he boarded up his heart and threw himself more into being king than he did a father.

It was about a year after Liana left that the royal council began pestering him about taking another wife; if only for the sole reason of producing a spare. When he finally agreed, he was told about several suitors, though they all agreed to pick someone that could relate better to the people. Someone from a different walk of life, maybe even someone from another country. They decided to pick the daughter of a man Constantine’s father had dealings with and soon a courtship started between the King and Eleanor.

I don't want to talk/ About the things we've gone through Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history

From the beginning, Eleanor was told why he needed to remarry and while he felt those butterflies when with her, Constantine made sure to not let them cloud his judgement. This marriage was simply for convenience, stabilization of the monarchy, and a married king looked stronger than an unwed one. Especially one that had been left in the middle of the night. Eleanor seemed fine with the arrangement, the two might not have been passionately in love, they still shared feelings that resulted in the birth of Liam. The pair was civil and while it wasn’t the story book love most think the throne has, it was nice.

I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

Constantine often found himself wanting to let his walls down, to let her in, but whenever those thoughts crossed his mind the pain of Liana would creep back in. Even when he found out about her miscarriage, he couldn’t allow himself to reach out. Instead he threw himself back into being king and neglected being not only a father but a husband. Then he saw her tear into Barthelemy Beaumont and while he loved every second of it, the fire in her, it was still uncalled for. He messed up that night too, seemingly siding with Beaumont, leaving her alone once again. But what she didn’t know was that he knew she had snuck off to the courtyard to see Jackson, Timothy had reported it to him when he asked for her. His heart cracked a little when he saw their intimate embrace, but he didn’t let himself dwell. But his anger overtook him and he lashed out on her, pushing her even further away.

The winner takes it all/ The loser standing small Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Weeks passed and he noticed a shift in her behavior, but knew of nothing that could have caused it. Jackson seemed to stay on opposite ends of the palace as her, but other than one embrace, nothing else was reported; Constantine had no reason to distrust either of them. Then he saw her running around with Liam and the other children and he saw her come back to life. He told himself that he had to do better, to let her in, or he’d end up losing her for good. And things seemed to work out for the royal couple; he really saw them as being happy; finally giving her the marriage that she deserved.

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense Building me a fence/ Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there

The pieces of him that had been broken by Liana were mending the closer he got to Eleanor. He meant every word he said to her, every declaration of love he made, all the times he held her in his arms. Something changed in Constantine after all that, the thought of filling the palace with more heirs brought him a joy he didn’t think he could have. But then the other shoe dropped. The peace treaty with Auvernal was threatened and the fabric of their relationship started to fray. He watched as Eleanor slowly started to pull away from him, his heart broke each time she pulled away from his kiss or she simply ignored him.

But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

Instead of joining him and their sons at the Portavira summit, she opted to travel to Valtoria: a long-forgotten duchy. He entrusted her safety and care to Jackson, someone he trusted. Someone he personally called to serve in the Kings’ Guard, just as his father and grandfather had. The photographs on his desk proved that to be one of the biggest mistakes Constantine made.

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall It's simple and it's plain/ Why should I complain

He looks at them until the images are burned into his mind. There was no disputing what he saw, no way to explain it away. They started off innocent enough; sitting closer than normal, sharing a meal, these were all things Constantine could brush away. But as he flipped through them, the less innocent they became. Each image causes the anger in him to boil until he sees the ones that he can’t ignore. Ones of his wife and guardsman in the throes of passion, shamelessly. He felt sick to his core just thinking of the two as tears threatened to fall.

But tell me does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you? Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

When he asked if Eleanor was pregnant, he was partially joking. While they had been intimate several times, he wasn’t sure if the timeline would fit. But her cravings for sour foods was an identical marker to her pregnancy with Liam and Constantine felt excited for the possibility. Then he saw these photographs and combined with their recent behavior, the chance of him being the father grew increasingly slim and he feels a hatred in him he has never felt before. He had a lot to do, there was a possibility there was another heir, but also the chance of just some bastard of the queen. A better man might have been able to ignore the telltale signs of his wife’s adultery, to just stay married to her by name and remove the guardsman from the palace, royals don’t marry for love after all. But Constantine isn’t a better man, he’s bitter and scorned, scarred from the abrupt loss of his first love, and self-destined to never allow anyone to be close enough to hurt him again.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you But what can I say/ Rules must be obeyed

Constantine stands up, flinging the photographs to the floor. As he paces, he starts to wonder if they even had a plan for this abomination of an arrangement they started. If they even thought of the possible outcome of this, a child. He would not allow some bastard a chance to even be in line for the throne, he wouldn’t allow some guardsman’s offspring to tarnish the bloodline of the monarchs before him. But if it was his, he didn’t know how he’d even be able to look at his wife again. Liana just left one night, without a word or warning and it still hurt him to see Leo because when the light caught his blue eyes and blonde hair the right way, he looked just like his mother which broke Constantine’s heart. If he couldn’t look at his own son, how could ever look at someone else’s?

So the winner takes it all/ And the loser has to fall Throw a dice, cold as ice

With each step he takes, the anger continues to grow until he’s come up with an idea, a plan, to cause them to hurt just the way they had hurt him. This wouldn’t go unpunished, regardless of the paternity test. When he leaves his study, he slams the door and by the time the door clicks behind him, Constantine’s heart has completely hardened. His emotions dead bolted behind a door that no one would ever be able to open.

Way down here, someone dear/ Takes it all, has to fall It seems plain to me

#choices #witness protection #witness protection au fic #the royal romance #trr constantine rys #trr Eleanor rys #trr Jackson walker

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iris-writes-things · 3 years

Text

Quoth the Raven, 'Magica'

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut!

Fingers, into the velvet sinking, Lena betook herself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Magica.”

1 Chapter Completed 3647 words Supernatural/Family(???)

Midnight had only just struck when Lena was getting ready for bed.

It was a dark and stormy night. The street lights and the dancing branches of the tree outside her window played a pantomime against her curtains as rain pelted mercilessly against the house.

Lena Sabrewing hummed softly as she turned down her music, Their Chemical Courtship easily overpowered by thick raindrops battering her window, glad that tonight wasn't a night of adventuring outside with the Duck-McDuck extended family.

Over the howling wind she could have sworn she heard a corvid cawing close by.

Lena turned off the music completely, retrieving the CD from the CD-player her dads gifted her when she heard it again.

"CAW!"

Already resigned to a night of constant disturbances, Lena pulled her sweater off over her head when she heard the bird again.

"Magi-CAW!”

Her blood ran cold. She pulled her sweater back on and stormed towards her bedroom window, ripping open the curtains.

There, illuminated by the light from her bedroom, she spotted a raven perched on a branch right in front of her. It tilted its head in what looked like recognition, flapped its wings and hopped closer to the window, its yellow, slitted eyes were still fixed on her as the purple lock of feathers on its head billowed in the wind.

Lena huffed, gripping her curtains so tightly she felt her fingers dig through the thick fabric and into her palms. “Magica...”

Lena felt around for her phone on her night stand, never losing sight of the bird outside. Without looking, she unlocked the device and dialed the number of the one family that could help her.

“Lena? What’s up?” Webby asked sleepily. Lena almost felt bad waking her up in the middle of the night.

“I’ve got a situation here,” Lena said, glaring at the raven that still watched her. “I’ll bring it to you, but make sure Scrooge is awake,” she said quietly, so as not to disturb anyone in her house. “And the birdcage in the attic. I need you to bring it down.”

“The birdcage?”

“There’s a talking raven outside my window. I think it has something to do with—”

“Magi-CAW!”

There was a pause. There was no way Webby hadn’t heard what just happened. Lena could hear her draw a deep breath over the phone.

“I’ll go wake up dad.”

“Thanks. See you soon.”

Lena ended the call and, still closely watching the raven, side-stepped to her closet, plucking a thick glove from the pocket of her winter coat.

The raven’s eyes followed her, too. Good. It was targeting her and would probably come willingly.

She slung her emergency sleepover backpack over her shoulder, just in case. Quietly, she advanced towards her bedroom door, slowly pulling it open, pausing just where she knew it would creak. Poking her head out, she glanced left, towards the stairs, and right, towards her dads’ bedroom. Finally, she glanced downward, right into the eyes of Violet.

Her little sister was fully dressed and also carrying her backpack. Lena promptly decided not to make note of the baseball bat sticking out the top of it.

“If you think this has something to do with Magica,” Violet whispered, “I won’t have you facing that raven alone.” She resolutely held out her hand to Lena, friendship bracelet dangling from her wrist.

Smiling, Lena took Violet’s hand. “Let’s go.”

By the time Lena and Violet made it to McDuck Manor the raven’s talons were starting to poke through the glove the bird was perched on and into the flesh of Lena’s hand. The sleeves of her shirt and sweater were soaked from the raindrops that leaked into the sleeve of her raincoat. She was cold. She was tired. She snapped.

“Look,” she growled, glaring into its eyes. “I know you need to hold on to something, but you’re hurting me.” Lena took a breath before she would press on, but the raven released its claws from Lena’s hand one by one. “Oh… Thanks?”

Violet rewarded the bird by holding up a handful of granola to its beak, which the raven ate gratefully.

Lena glanced at Violet and smiled fondly at her sister. “You know, if this turns out not to be some evil plot from Magica, we could always ask dad to let us keep it.”

“Perhaps,” Violet said, looking up at the bird. “But the odds of dad saying yes are extremely slim.”

“And so are the odds of this having nothing to do with Magica DeSpell,” said not Webby, but Scrooge McDuck standing in the opening of the front door.

Webby, meanwhile, squeezed between the older duck and the door frame with a small ‘coming through’ and set a birdcage on the ground. “Alright, mister, in you go,” she said as she opened the little wire door.

The raven looked at Lena with something like fear in its eyes. Lena gently stroked the purple feathers on his head. “It’s going to be okay. No need to be afraid. And Violet will feed you all the granola you need. You’ll be out before you know it.”

This seemed to reassure the bird enough. Lena brought it down next to the little door and the raven hopped in of its own accord. However, the way the raven kept looking at Scrooge wasn’t lost on Lena.

The older duck stepped aside to make way for the girls. “Come in lasses, you must be freezing. There’s tea on.”

Webby winked and whispered to them, hugging the birdcage to her chest. “Don’t worry, I snuck in a fresh tea bag.”

The raven looked uncomfortable in its cage. The only sound in the large dining room was the sound of talons clacking against the perch as it shifted from left to right and back and the occasional flapping of its wings.

“He’s being awfully quiet for a talking raven…” Webby mumbled after a while.

“You should’ve heard the racket it made outside my window.” Lena took another sip from her tea and shuddered as she warmed back up from the inside.

“Actually, although ravens and other birds can learn to make sounds akin to speech, they don’t actually have vocal chords,” Violet said matter of factly. “Also, judging from its body language, it’s probably nervous.”

“As he has every right to be,” Scrooge said as he entered the dining room with a second round of steaming hot tea. “Even though I can assure him that no harm will come to him here,” he said as he topped up the girls’ teacups.

The raven turned to Scrooge and tilted its head as if it understood what he said but couldn’t quite believe it. The old duck scratched at his bottom bill, clearly making mental note of the corvid’s cognition.

“Interesting,” he mumbled. “Must be fading, then.”

“I feel kind of bad for it,” Lena sighed. “It basically has no space to move around in that cage...”

“It’s the biggest one we have,” Webby replied, softly placing her hand on Lena’s shoulder as Lena took another sip of tea.

“Well, we’re not letting him out. I’ve seen what Poe De Spell can do with magical artifacts and this house is full of ‘em, so I’m not taking any chances.”

Lena spat out her tea across the table, choking on the remainder and coughing. “Sorry, Poe De Whonow?” she demanded hoarsely, rubbing tears from her eyes.

“Oh,” Scrooge uttered. “Oh, this is going to be awkward.”

Lena’s head felt heavy. Her thoughts were racing as she buried her face in her hands, trying to process it all. “So what you’re saying is… Magica has a younger twin brother who she did evil magic with, they tried to steal your number one dime, you then challenged Magica, and deflected a curse with your dime and Poe took the blast for her, turning him into a raven?”

“Yes,” Scrooge said.

“And when Magica begged you to help her… to keep a bird from flying through a window not four feet away from you, you just refused?” Lena continued, carding her hands through her pink hair instead.

“I’m not proud of what I did there, Lena,” Scrooge said. “Perhaps if Donald and Della were with me then…” he sighed. “Well, that doesn’t change anything, does it?”

She looked up, glancing between Scrooge, who looked profoundly ashamed, and Poe, who looked profoundly sad. “I… I’m sorry, but I kind of understand why Magica is so mad at you,” she said, setting her gaze on the duck.

Lena liked to think she was a better person than Magica, but honestly, if something like that were to happen to Webby? To Violet or both their dads? Lena couldn’t say for sure she wouldn’t react the same way.

“So what do we do with him?” Violet asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

“I say we take him to Magica,” Lena said, getting up from her seat and reaching for the cage. “I can’t restore him like this, but with her amulet…”

“Lena, wait,” Webby said, taking hold of the hand that reached for the cage. “Magica... she caused you nothing but pain. You don’t owe her anything.”

“Maybe not, but… remember when Magica made me a shadow again? You would have done and did pretty much do anything to bring me back,” Lena said, taking Webby’s soft, warm hands into hers. “Heck, you and Vi pretty much made a new kind of magic to make that happen!” She gently squeezed Webby’s hands, stroking her thumbs over her knuckles.

“Pink, if it were any of us in her situation with her mindset and her way of life… we would have done the same. Because under all the hate, anger and resentment I felt when Magica first created me, I felt the love and grief she felt for Poe. And it was as fierce as the love I feel for you or Violet or anyone in our family. So sure, I don’t owe Magica anything. Sure, she and Poe might have been a totally evil power-duo terrorizing a town in Europe for who knows how long. And sure, the curse might already be fading… but still. Returning him to Magica and restoring him to his former self feels like the right thing to do.”

Webby sighed and hugged Lena. “If you say it’s the right thing to do, then that’s what we’ll do,” she mumbled into Lena’s chest before pulling back. “But I don’t like it. Why can’t we just try it with our friendship magic?”

“Because I can only turn him back with the talismans that made him the way he is now. One of them being with Magica.”

“The other one being…” Violet mumbled, the realization finally dawning on her as well as Webby. The girls and the raven turned to the older duck.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. You cannae be serious.”

Once they reached the bog, the rain had subsided from a downpour to a drip. The bog was more wet and squelchy than it normally was, and darker, as the clouds and the canopy of the trees overhead blotted out the moon and stars. But Lena could navigate this place blindfolded. Or at least, the relatively short walk to Magica’s house.

Lena clutched the birdcage containing Poe tightly to her chest as she followed Magica’s aura. Violet clutched the back of her raincoat with one hand and held Webby’s in the other, who dragged along Scrooge.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be calling on a witch, though?” Webby pondered aloud.

Lena shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s edgy and dramatic enough, she’s probably thriving at this hour,” she said, wiping her rain boots on the doormat.

Releasing Lena and Webby, Violet walked up to the door and knocked three times.

No answer came.

“Maybe she’s sleeping?” Webby suggested.

Violet knocked again.

Again, no answer.

“Perhaps she’s out of town?” Scrooge added.

Lena rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Scrooge, but she’s here. I can feel it.”

“Well, they say three times is the charm,” Violet said, about to knock again when the door swung open.

“Do you lot have any idea how loud you are?!” the monster that answered Magica’s door roared. It vaguely resembled a duck, but it was composed entirely of green goop that dripped down its face and… nope, it was just Magica in a face mask. She leveled a glare on Scrooge. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.”

Poe cawed from his perch in the birdcage, flapping his wings, attempting to hop towards Magica.

Instead, Magica turned to the cage, looked in Poe’s general direction and slammed the door. “After that whole business in the Karmic Court! If you think you can just bring me a random raven and expect me to forgive you, you’re dead wrong, Scrooge McDuck!”

“Magi—” Scrooge started.

“CAW!” Poe cawed. “Magi-CAW! Magi-CAW!”

The rusty hinges of the door creaked as it slowly opened. Magica stood awestruck, staring at the raven in the birdcage. “Poe?” she whispered as if she couldn’t quite believe he was sitting right there in front of her.

“It’s him,” Scrooge confirmed.

“Magi-CAW!” the raven cawed, hopping and flapping his wings excitedly.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you out!” Lena said, carefully placing the birdcage on the ground and opened the little door.

Magica kneeled on the ground just outside her door, mud caking her otherwise fluffy bathrobe, but she didn’t seem to care. She reached a hesitant hand out for Poe, who eagerly hopped out of the cage and into her arms. A sob wracked through her body as she embraced her brother tightly. Sniffling, she said, “If you think I’ll ever let you out of my sight again, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Lena couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of her. It was strange, looking at the woman who caused her and her family so much pain and grief and to feel so genuinely happy for her. Then again, Lena knew what it was like to be separated from her family, and she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.

She took a careful step towards Magica and knelt down by the woman she once called her aunt, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I want to help you,” she said resolutely.

“How could you possibly help me?! I’m still the greatest sorceress the world has ever seen, you know?!”

Lena didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink as Magica lashed out at her. “Maybe,” she said, humoring Magica. “But I think I know how to turn him back.”

Lena tried to focus, sitting on Magica’s ratty old sofa with the Magica’s amulet in one hand and Scrooge’s number one dime in the other. Closing her eyes, she felt the presence of Poe, in front of her on Magica’s stained coffee table. She focused on her breathing. On the energy coursing through her body. On the magical aura the artifacts in her hands radiated. The auras turned into a physical glow as Lena pulled the magic into herself, allowing the opposing energies to mingle. Finally, she directed her focus towards P—

“I hope we can get this over with quickly. I feel so naked without my dime.” Scrooge grumbled, only to be shushed by Webby, Violet and Magica.

Lena sighed, opening her eyes and shooting the raven an apologetic look as she tried very hard to not imagine the older duck naked.

Poe nodded.

Lena closed her eyes again for a second try. She took a deep breath, focusing on her energy and pulling in the magic from the artifacts in the same motion. Directing the artifacts at Poe, she—

The bright and cheerful sounds of Violet’s ringtone echoed throughout the little house.

Lena heard her sister gasp. “It’s dad! They must have noticed we’re gone!”

Lena’s eyes snapped open. “Uh-oh…”

“Yikes,” Webby replied. “Let’s give Lena some space and answer that outside.”

“Thanks, Pink, you’re the best,” Lena said, watching the other girls leave. “Okay, this better work, or I’ll be grounded for eternity for nothing.”

She felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she found it was attached to Scrooge. “Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Lena smiled, nodded, and with a slightly lighter heart closed her eyes. Poe’s presence. Breathing. Energy. Pull. Mix. Back to Poe—

Sproing!

Lena didn’t yell. She definitely didn’t shriek as one of the springs once confined to Magica’s sofa jumped towards its freedom. But she definitely did send the amulet and the dime flying across the room. As her elevated heart rate pulsed through her ears she jumped out of her seat and sprinted for the artifacts, picking them up only to find that Magica… hadn’t moved an inch. She didn’t make an attempt to get the dime.

Making her way back to the coffee table, she held her arm out for Poe to perch on. “I’m using your bathroom.”

With Poe perched on the edge of Magica’s bath tub -which still contained the bubble bath Magica was about to get into when they came knocking- Lena made herself comfortable sitting cross-legged on the bath mat. She closed her eyes and went through the motions again. Finally, she directed the magic towards Poe. A perfect hit! Expectantly, she looked at the raven, waiting for him to change back into his former self.

Poe stretched his wing and tilted his head, inspecting it. Still a raven.

Lena huffed, trying again and again and again and again.

She groaned in frustration, pulling her legs up to her chest and burying her face in her knees. “Ugh, why won’t this dumb magic work?! I have the right artifacts and everything! What am I doing wrong?!”

Wings flapped inside the little bathroom, followed by talons clacking against the wooden floorboards. Lena looked up as soft feathers brushed against her leg.

“Lena, it’s alright,” the raven said in a smooth voice with a British accent. “You did your best.”

“Did you just…?”

“Speak? Yes, I did.”

“How long…?”

“About five minutes,” Poe said, shrugging. At least, Lena thought he was shrugging. “Vocal chords take some getting used to when you haven’t had any in several decades.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fully turn you back,” Lena mumbled, casting her gaze towards the floor. “I was so sure I could do it, but I guess I got overconfident.”

“It’s quite alright. I’ve been a raven longer now than I’ve ever been a duck, I think, so I feel like changing back would be somewhat awkward. Not to mention, I’d rather stay a raven the rest of my life than accidentally turn into some in-between mix. Or to have the mind of a raven in the body of a duck.”

A wry smile crept its way onto Lena’s face. Disappointed at the lack of total success, but relieved that her attempts didn’t end in a total failure.

“Also, Lena dear,” Poe said as he flapped his wings and perched on her shoulder. “I know what overconfidence looks like -it’s what got me into this situation to begin with- and you show no sign of it.”

“Thanks. That kind of helps.”

“My pleasure. Now, speaking of my sister, would you be so kind as to open the door?”

“Sure.”

“Lena,” Magica snapped the second Lena opened the door. Her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping the floor. “Why is there still a raven on your shoulder?”

“Are you alright, lass? I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone in there,” Scrooge added.

“Yeah,” Lena said. “And someone talked back. He’s cool, by the way.”

Poe flew from Lena’s shoulder to perch on the backrest of Magica’s sofa, glancing at the escaped spring that broke Lena’s focus earlier before looking back up at Magica.

“Magica, this place is a mess,” he deadpanned.

“That’s my little brother!” Magica yelled as she scooped Poe up in her arms and twirled around. “Finally, after all these years.”

Poe smiled as well as he could as he rested his head against Magica’s cheek. “It’s good to be back. Wait, is that cabinet on the far wall made of pizza boxes?”

“Hush, sweet Poe, don’t ruin this,” Magica whispered at him loudly.

Lena looked up at the sound of Scrooge’s voice.

“Come on,” he whispered as he extended his hand to her. “I’m sure your dads are going to want to know where you are.”

Lena nodded and took his hand, following him to the door, which creaked again as it was pushed open.

“Wait.”

Lena froze mid-step at the sound of Magica’s voice, turning to face her. It wasn’t Magica’s magic which compelled her to anymore, but rather the remorse that flowed from that single syllable.

“Poe truly is the only person I’ve ever cared about. You didn’t have to return him to me, but you did. So… thank you, Lena.”

The raven looked rather smug, giving his sister a satisfied nod.

“I, uh, yeah,” Lena stammered, scratching the back of her head. “I just did what any sister would do.”

“And Scrooge?” Poe prompted.

Magica sighed and rolled her eyes. “Maybe learning the ‘turning people back’ spell would have been a more productive use of my time and effort than exacting my sweet, sweet vengeance on you, so sorry about that I guess.”

“I’ll take it,” Scrooge replied.

“Now, was that so difficult?”

“Lena, lass, I hope you know what you’ve done,” Scrooge said on the way back to the car. The rainclouds had cleared and the rising sun bathed the bog in pink light. “Those two could cause us loads of trouble.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about this,” Lena said, turning back towards the bog and smiling. “But if they do, at least they’ll do it together.”

#fanfic #Ducktales #Lena Sabrewing #Poe de Spell #Magica de Spell

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

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Insights Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: TodoMomo; established Huwumi and Natsuo x Mouse GIrlfriend Summary: TodoMomo Positivity Week Day 2 Prompt Fill: Roses. Shoto kinda seeks out romantic advice from Natsuo and Hawks and then everything gets complicated. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Despite his concerns in the beginning, Todoroki Shoto had learned that relationships were a relatively easy thing to navigate. Well, given that there was respect and trust and communication, anyway. Which, he was proud to say he had with his girlfriend, Yaoyorozu Momo. The two of them were hitting the start of their third year at UA as well as their first year together as a couple. Shoto hadn’t thought much about it until he’d gone to a small training event with some of his other classmates.

“So,” Kaminari had drawled, a sly grin on his lips, “I gotta know. What’s on the agenda for you and Yaomomo’s anniversary? Because if you need some suggestions, I’ve got your back!”

He had blinked and tilted his head at him. “Ha?”

Sero snorted as he walked over as well. “Todoroki, it’s okay! You don’t gotta play coy with us! High roller like you must be planning to bust out the big guns for your first anniversary with your girlfriend!”

He merely continued to stare at them, unsure what they meant. “You shitty extras are giving IcyHot way too much credit. Dumbass probably doesn't have shit all figured out,” Bakugo scoffed.

“... Should I be making a big fuss over it being a year since we officially started dating?” Shoto had asked, genuinely befuddled. Which seemed to distress Sero and Kaminari, who had just as genuinely thought he was just teasing. The epiphany that he wasn’t just messing with them had led down a rather slippery slope of explaining the significance of anniversaries and such when in a romantic relationship. Specifically, how the one year mark was a huge landmark and warranted going above and beyond for your partner. And it wasn’t as if Shoto was completely ignorant to these things - both his older siblings were in successful relationships, after all - but… Well, the way they made it sound, their schedule should be much grander than it was. Outside of them agreeing to spend that day together, they hadn’t discussed much more nor had Momo implied she expected more than that.

But, then again, it seemed like an unspoken rule of courtship. So maybe she had simply assumed he already knew what to do?

Which was how he ended up awkwardly wandering into the living room of the estate, where Natsuo and Keigo were settled in front of the television and having a playful debate. “Nii-Chan,” he said when there was a lapse in the conversation.

The two older men both looked up at him. “Which one?” Keigo teased.

Natsuo rolled his eyes. “You aren’t his brother yet, birdbrain,”

“Ah, yes, because three months of time will make such a huge difference,”

“I meant Natsuo,” he clarified. Keigo’s feathers ruffled a bit at the remark while Natsuo flashed the Pro a smug grin. He then turned his attention back to Shoto and nodded his head, indicating he continue with what he had to say. “I need your advice on something… personal.”

He blinked before his brow knit in concern. “Hmm? Did you strain something during one of your workouts again? I keep telling you, Shoto; it’s fine if you wanna push your limits a little, but you can’t go breaking yourself like your buddy Midoriya,”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not about that. It’s about my upcoming anniversary with Momo,” Both men looked absolutely stunned by this, eyes wide and gawking. Shoto shifted his weight uncomfortably to keep himself from backing down, feeling incredibly judged. “I need help figuring out what to do for it.”

“Ah, Shoto, Shoto! You’ve come to the right man for help with this!” Keigo suddenly sang, a few of his feathers flying over and starting to push him towards the blonde. Once he was close enough, he was pulled down beside him, one of his arms draping over the younger’s shoulders as he leaned into him. “Let the King of Romance help you out! With my knowledge on your side, you’ll woo Yaomomo right off her feet!”

”Uh, excuse you,” Natsuo snapped, slamming one hand on the table to get their attention, “but he was coming to me for help. You know. Me. His big brother.”

Keigo’s arm slipped off Shoto’s shoulders so he could clap his hands together as if he was praying. He then gently tapped his lips with his hands, humming as he did. “Yeah, but… How to put this gently… You are bad at romance,” he said after a few pregnant pauses, enunciating the words of the final sentence with small chops of his hands.

“Wha-! What the Hell?”

“Look, I’m not saying I’ve heard some things but I’ve heard some things. Pro tip: Being together for three years doesn’t mean you don’t still have to try,” Keigo said, smirking as he held his hands up in a placating manner and glancing at Shoto.

Shoto blinked slowly before turning his attention to his flustered older brother again, curious what his response to that would be.

“I’d rather have room for improvement than being a brain dead peacock like you!” he snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. He then turned to Shoto again, pointing at Hawks again aggressively. “Shoto, did you know that our sister got accosted by a Villain when this idiot tried to propose?”

“I was off duty and out of my jurisdiction! It’s not my fault the Pro that runs that area had shit scheduling! And I got her away from the creep!” Keigo snapped back, slamming one of his hands down on the table as well and leaning closer to the other Todoroki.

“That creep was naked!” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest and quirking an eyebrow expectantly.

Shoto’s head snapped between the two of them in complete bewilderment. He didn’t recall that being part of Fuyumi’s retelling of how Keigo had proposed. “... I… What?”

“It had to do with his Quirk,” Keigo waved a hand dismissively, as if that answered ever question Shoto could have to go along with that, but his gaze never wavered from Natsuo. One of his bushy eyebrows twitched in a way that seemed a bit menacing, as if he was about to deal a huge blow to the other. “Look, you don’t get to criticize me on shit when you’re too much of a coward to take the plunge!”

“What did you say, you mushy chicken nugget?”

“You heard me, protein powder!”

At this point, Shoto quietly crept away from the pair and made a beeline for the kitchen. After that, he had earned a glass of water or juice or something. Fuyumi was settled at the counter, preparing tea water with the electric kettle, while chatting amicably with Nezumi, Natsuo’s girlfriend. Nezumi herself was settled at the table, rounded mouse ears up to show she was comfortable and content. His sister perked up and smiled at him. “Hmm? Oh, hey, Shoto,” she mused. She seemed to read his body language well as her smile faltered. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.” She motioned him over towards the table while plucking out another tea mug for him.

“You two are dating a pair of useless idiots,” he groaned as he slumped at the table, letting his head thunk against the surface. After a moment he sighed and brought his arms up to rest his head on them instead. “Or maybe I’m the useless idiot.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk about yourself like that, Shoto!” Fuyumi admonished as she started pouring the water into the mugs.

Nezumi’s ears tipped down a bit as she meekly leaned over to give his head a comforting pat. “Would talking about it help, Shoto-Kun?”

He sighed again and closed his eyes. “Well, it’s just… Momo and I are going to be having our one year anniversary next Sunday and I worry that I don’t have anything spectacular figured out,” he confessed. He opened his eyes as Fuyumi carefully set a mug in front of him, watching the steam billow over the top. He pushed himself to sit upright and take the mug, letting the warmth bleed into his hands through the ceramic.“I want to make this something good for her. She’s important to me and… I just… I want to make sure she knows that. I want to make sure to show her that the right way.”

“Shoto, there is no right or wrong way to celebrate your anniversary. Every couple is different and what works for one may not work for another,” Fuyumi said, ever patient as she reached out and gently stroked his back. He could feel some of the tension slip from his body at her presence and reassurance. A glance at her revealed a small smile on her lips. “I mean, what Keigo and I do is radically different from Natsuo and Nezumi-Chan. And what you and Momo-Chan want to do to celebrate is most likely different from both of us, too.”

Nezumi nodded, lifting her mug to blow a bit at it. “Has Yaoyorozu-Chan made any mention of what she’d like to do with you on the anniversary?” she prompted before taking a small sip.

“She told me she just wants us to spend the day together,” he said. He took a sip of his own tea as his mind churned back to the conversation for the umptenth time, looking for any and all small details he could have missed. “We talked about maybe going to a park to walk around or something. But we do things like that for dates all the time. I want to make it special, somehow… Something more than just another date.”

Fuyumi tapped her chin before her eyes lit up and she grinned at him. “You could prepare a picnic for that day!”

Shoto stared at her for a long, quiet moment. “... Do you remember what happened last time I tried cooking?”

“We could help you,” Nezumi chimed in. Then, seeming to immediately worry she’d stepped out line, she slumped back. Her ears were tipped further down and she avoided eye contact. “O-Only if that’s okay, of course!”

He offered her a small smile, gently patting her shoulder so she would look at him. “I would appreciate it. Thank you, Nezumi-San,” She blinked then smiled and nodded. Her ears tipped back up completely and her stance became a bit more casual again. He blinked then frowned again as another thought occurred. “Ah, but what about a present?”

“Hmm… What do you think she’d like?” Fuyumi asked before taking a sip of her tea.

“She’s been gardening in her free time and seems to enjoy that,”

“Ah, a bouquet! You could get her that if she likes flowers!” Nezumi said eagerly. Her tail was visibly now, swaying a bit like he’d noticed it did when she was excited about something. “And I may have a suggestion for how you can make it a little more special!”

“Thank you, both of you,” Shoto said, finally allowing his whole body to relax at the prospect of having some real help to figure out what to do.

……………………………………………………………..

“Shoto-Kun, good afternoon! I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Momo called the following week as she jogged over to him. They had agreed to meet up at the entrance to the park. In one arm he had the sizeable picnic basket Fuyumi had helped him put everything in while the picnic blanket was tossed over his opposing shoulder.

“Ah. Not at all,” he said, smiling when he was her. He then held the basket up, looking away sheepishly. “I, um… prepared a lunch for us. With Fuyumi-Nee and Nezumi-San’s help. It’s nothing extravagant but I hope that it is acceptable,”

Gray eyes lit up at that. “Oh! I brought a homemade dessert for us as well!” She indicated the large purse she had slung over her shoulder, moving it to hold it open so he could peer inside. There was a colorful tupperware container inside, along with her other personal effects, but he couldn’t make out what was inside it. “It’s just some cookies… I’m still figuring out how to make more complex treats but I felt this would be a simple but enjoyable.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” he said with a nod before starting to rummage through the basket. “One last thing. I got these for you.” He help out to her a bouquet of a dozen white roses, tied off with pastel pink paper and lacy purple ribbon.

“Roses? They’re lovely, Shoto-Kun. Thank you,” she giggled, reaching to take them. She help the bouquet closer to smell them. She perked up when the rose dead center, sticking out just the slightest bit more than the others, brushed her nose. She blinked in alarm before tentatively reaching out to touch it. “Ah, it seems that this one is fake.”

“Yes. That was intentional. You see, this bouquet comes with a promise,” he explained, heart racing a ,mile a minute as he remembered what Nezumi-San had told him to say.

“Oh?”

“Yes. That I will love you until the final rose wilts,”

Momo’s eyes widened, her fingers still tracing the fabric petals of the fake flower, as a pink hue crept up her cheeks and the tips of her ears. A small smile turned up on Shoto’s lips as she stared down at the bouquet affectionately.

Maybe he could get this whole romance thing down, after all.

#My Hero Academia #TodoMomo #Yaoyorozu Momo #Todoroki Shoto #TodoMomo Positivity Week #my fics #I just really wanted to include family shenanigans #And Shoto getting to bond with his siblings partners #And stupid sappy cliche internet post style shit from the early 2000s so #*shrugs*#If you don't like it #Fite me in a Denny's parking lot

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llnewobsessionll · 4 years

Text

Falling For You (Elrond x angel!reader)

A/n: I’m a slut for both elves and the supernatural so this was great. Kind of thought it would be hard to write when I first got it but I actually had a lot of fun and the writing was easy. Thanks for the request! - Sloan xx

Description: Elrond and Glorfindel go out for an afternoon ride when they see something fall from the sky, they go check it out only to find an angel. Elrond ends up slowly falling for the angel as he’s healing her and getting her used to Imladris.

Warning: None

Word count: 1,803

It was like any other normal day in Imladris, nothing had given away the fact that later that day something very interesting was going to happen. Elrond had woken up just as the sun had started to come up and had gone to go for a morning run and brief sparring session with Elladan and Elrohir and by the time Lindir had knocked on the door to Elrond’s quarters to escort him to breakfast and debrief him on the plans for the day Elrond had already washed up, gotten dressed, and read over some important letters and notes.

It was only later that day, during the early afternoon that things changed. Elrond and Glorfindel had arranged to go for a ride around Imladris as a way to relax and catch up with how the other was doing.

Elrond and Glorfindel were almost halfway around the borders of Imladris when Glorfindel had looked up and saw something large falling from the sky, pointing at it he called out to Elrond, “look at that, do you think one of the birds hurt their wings?”

Elrond looked to where Glorfindel was pointing and saw what he as talking about, “looks pretty big for a bird, maybe one of the great eagles? C’mon” he urged his horse to canter in the direction of where it looked like the eagle was gonna fall, which happened to be in the forest that surrounded Imladris. As Elrond and Glorfindel got closer they had to slow their horses down to weave between the foliage, up ahead they could just make out what looked like a meadow in the forest and with their elven eyesight they could see a giant crater.

Whatever it was the had fallen would have been quite big and had fallen extremely fast to create a hole like that.

Carefully they made their way to the outside of the meadow and dismounted of their horses, ready to walk up to the crater and find out what it was that had fallen. As they made their way closer they made eye contact and put their hands on the swords that they kept strapped to their hips whenever they left the borders of Imladris.

Glorfindel fell back to make sure that nothing attacked or came up behind them as Elrond progressed forward and looked into the crater. The crater was about 6 metres (20 feet) wide and almost 3 metres (10 ish feet) deep.

Inside the crater Elrond the only thing Elrond saw was two big, fluffy white wings that shielded the body of the bird. Slowly stepping into the crater and making his way closer to where the bird was he crouched down, one hand still on sword just in case anything happened and moved the wings aside hoping that bird was alright and just injured. Instead of seeing a bird’s body and beak he was met with the body of a person and the face of a very beautiful female.

Immediately Elrond’s concern increased and he leaned forward to check for a pulse on the female’s neck, “You need to come look at this!” He called over his shoulder to Glorfindel, he wanted to make sure that there was in fact an angel in front of him and that he was just hallucinating from all the stress and old age.

Elrond felt the girls pulse under his fingers, it was weak, but a lot stronger than he would have expected it to be. Glorfindel looked over Elrond’s shoulder at the angel as Elrond was preparing to pick her up to take her to inside Imladris.

“Is that a…?” Glorfindel questioned, trailing off, unsure of what it was that he was really seeing.

“An angel? Yes, now could you go grab my horse for me? We got to get her to the healing ward, I do not know about the healing properties of angels but even so, a fall from that distance and at that speed could not have felt pleasant.”

Elrond picked up the female carefully, trying to disturb her as little as possible knowing full well that if she had a spine injury it would only take one wrong move to do some serious damage.

Getting on his horse was even harder, not only was he ground mounting but he didn’t have full use of either arm to help guide and stabilize himself getting into the saddle, but with Glorfindel’s help he managed to do it without disturbing the angel in his arms too much.

They made their way towards the main entrance much faster than they had left it earlier, neither of them had ever come across an angel in all the years of their lives and neither of them knew how durable they were and what the healing process was like for them, even Elrond, who was an experienced healer had no clue how to go about treating and handling an injured angel.

When they got inside the gates of Imladris they had one of the stable hands take the horses to cool down and be untacked while they continued on towards the healing ward. On their way there they met Lindir, who looked both confused and in awe at the presence of the angel in his lord’s arms.

“Lindir, go round up all the senior healers that aren’t currently at the healing ward, tell them about the patient and that I’ll debrief them on the situation when they get there.” Looking down at the angel’s face Elrond felt a bout of worry run through him, something in his gut told him that she would be important and the unsureness of dealing with an angel made him more worried than he had been for a while.

➼➳⁂➳➼

When Y/n finally came to she was very confounded by her surroundings, last she remembers was falling through the air towards a meadow, but now she was laying down in a white bed in what looked to be a healing ward, there were beds lining the walls with only one other person who was sleeping on one of the far beds.

Slowly sitting up she stretched her wings out behind her and flapped them a few times to make sure that they were injured. She doubted she had truly sustained any injuries from the fall and she knew that if she had they would most likely be healed by now but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Moving to sit on the side of her bed with her feet hanging off she looked around, confused as to how she got there and what to do know. As she was thinking that the door off to the side opened up and a brunet elf walked through them, walking directly to her.

“It’s nice to see that you are finally awake, Ms…” he trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

“Y/n, sir” Her voice wasn’t that hoarse so she couldn’t have been out for long, maybe a couple of hours at the most.

“Ms. Y/n, and please call me Elrond, I’m the one that found you when you first fell.”

“Thank you for that, may I ask where we are?”

“We are in Imladris, the last homely house east of the sea, I brought you here to be seen by healers,” Elrond said while gesturing to the healing ward, “and you are welcome to stay for as long as it takes you to recuperate, and even past then.”

“And the lord will not mind?” Y/n questioned unsurely and not wanting to overstay any welcome that she was given.

Elrond smiled down at Y/n finding what she said, coupled with her politeness to be very humourous, “as the lord of Imladris I can say with full confidence that you are welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

➼➳⁂➳➼

Elrond stayed by Y/n’s side for the rest of the evening, Y/n taught Elrond all about angels and Elrond shared tales he has heard of angels, Y/n laughing at how outrageous some of the stories were. Elrond loved making Y/n laugh, and he would never admit it but he had made up a story or two on the spot that was extremely outlandish just to hear Y/n laugh again.

Y/n decided that she would stay in Imladris as long as she was welcome, telling herself it was because how beautiful it was and how nice the residents were and it had nothing to do with the lord.

Elrond and Y/n continued to grow closer, sharing every meal with each other and spending most evenings out on a balcony or in the garden sharing nice wine and even better conversation.

Everyone in Imladris knew of the feelings the lord and the angel shared and they were all waiting rather impatiently for them to announce their courtship, it had even gone so far that Elladan and Glorfindel were playing matchmaker for them while Elrohir and Lindir watched in amusement, but didn’t try and stop them.

➼➳⁂➳➼

It was almost a month after Elrond had first discovered Y/n and they were both sitting out on a balcony watching the sun go down. Elrond was caught staring at Y/n’s face, normally she was beautiful, but with the final rays of the setting sun hasting orange and purple hues across her face and colouring her wings and a slight blush from the couple of cups of wine she had had that day she was absolutely astonishingly breathtaking.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see Elrond staring at her, turning to face him she cocked her head in question, “what are you looking? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, no, it’s just that you are, well, to put it simply your gorgeous, and no sunset on Middle Earth could ever compare to the beauty that stands in front of me.”

A deep flush spread across Y/n’s cheeks at the compliment and she shyly replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

Elrond looked towards the sunset to gather his thoughts and gain some confidence before he began, “I don’t know what may come of this,” he turned back to Y/n and looked her in the eyes to make sure she knew he was being sincere, “but I would like to see where this relationship would go if we let it, so what I’m trying to get at is, would you do me the honour of allowing me to court you?”

Y/n let out a wide smile at his words, glad that he seemed to be as infatuated with her as she was with him, “Elrond, I would love to court you, I can’t think of anything else that would bring me such happiness.”

#elrond x reader #elrond #elrond peredhel #lotr #lotr imagine #lotr imagines

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