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curly-bangtan · 4 years

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Heatwave Anniversary Drabble: i miss u like ... a lot (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! but this drabble can be read alone

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: One night until Taehyung is back from his boys’ trip but you miss him too much.

Genre: fluff, smut, kinda crack?, boyfriend/established relationship au

Warnings: unprotected sex (oc on contraception so don’t u do it), teasing over the phone, riding and grinding, just kinda vanilla i-missed-u-so-much sex, a particular selca

Word count: 5k

A/N: It was Heatwave’s one year anniversay on the 17th so I decided to write a quick(?) drabble for this. I fully intended on posting this on time, but wanted to change up some stuff so only managed to finish this now. Happy birthday to my first fic and forver my baby!

MOSTLY UNEDITED

The absolute one thing you hate most about your boyfriend being away from you is your boyfriend being away from you.

You have never been the clingy needy type, that is more his role in this relationship, nor are you really one to show affection. In fact, you would hate for that false image to be perceived of you because all that sappy shit makes you want to throw up your dinner. But one thing you’ve learnt since Taehyung had gone away on a week-long boys’ trip down by the coast is how cold the house feels in his absence, despite being in the middle of a sizzling summer.

Everything is so eerily quiet without his random outbursts into song and fits of laughter. Having spent 3 years living together, you have gotten so used to his constant presence that you had even caught yourself several times calling out for him only to remember that he isn’t here. Waking up without his arm draped around your waist, slided up your top at some point during the night, impacts you more than you’d like to admit.

Are you glad that he’s having a great time with his friends by the beach, relaxing all day and drinking all night? Of course. Are you having a great time all by yourself over here in the absence of your boyfriend? Certainly not.

Though, of course, this isn’t something you would confess to out loud, especially to him. He doesn’t need to know how often the thought: ugh fuck, I miss Tete is crossing your mind, lest you want him to rub his smugness in your face.

It isn’t just that. Your relationship hasn’t been without its tests in the course of its years and things have only finally stabilised. It’s not that you don’t trust Taehyung to be with his ladish friends for seven days, shirtless dusk till dawn, intoxicated to the point where he calls you thinking that you’re the pizza delivery guy but…

A hammered Taehyung at a beach full of girls who are no doubt thirsting over him leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You trust him to be loyal to his core, but you don’t trust anyone else to keep their hands from copping a feel. No matter how you look at it, you would just so much rather he be at home with you right now.

You have endured this for six days. Six full days without Taehyung. Six full days with no sex, no tummy kisses, no clammy hand holding even though you’re only to get groceries. Just one more night and this torture will fucking be over, praise the lord. But you also don’t know how much more you can hold back that I miss you text because you’re combusting from the need to see him again.

It’s almost 4am. Your sleep schedule is fucked and it’s really his fault.

The bright screen of your phone offers the only luminescence at this hour. Your messages from him in the past week have not been shy of your daily dose of Taehyung - clips of the beach (always mischievously caption with something along the lines of “thinking of Mykonos ;D” where you went on your first holiday together), selfies that you dwell way too long staring at because you miss that face buried in your neck, drunk videos of the antics him and the boys get up to that you’ll definitely chastise him for when he comes back yet can’t help but laugh at. You find yourself scrolling through them every single night.

Your personal favourite: a pouty selfie he sent you after he dropped his ice cream, the picture you always go back to and the one you’re staring at right now. His hair is frizzy from the sea, lips jutted out childishly and cheeks puffy. Your chest constricts, fuck...

Just one more night, you remind yourself. And then he’s back and all yours again.

Then suddenly, the phone in your hand vibrates, short and abrupt. The bar slides down from the top of your screen reading New Message from Tete. Surprised, you scramble to open it, maybe a bit too desperately for you to be proud of.

04:11

Tete: bby

You blink at those three letters, lips pressed together because your heart is cinching.

Tete: ur prob aslep rn but

Tete: i missu

Tete: <334

The typos indicate that he is wasted, and you take a guess that he has just returned from their last night out of the holiday. The corners of your lips turn up knowing that he is thinking of you right now.

You: no im awake

Your fingers are itching to reply with i miss u too, and it takes all your willpower and stubbornness to stay true to your steadfast self. There is just something so unpleasantly moist about these kinds of texts, something that makes you cringe and gag when you read them. You refuse to be one of those people. A heart is all that you allow yourself to reply.

You: <3

You: r u drunk?

Tete: drunk in love

Tete: yes

A giggle escapes you at his god awful cheesiness - drunk, sober alike. Insufferable. But probably Taehyung’s most endearing quality.

You: did u have fun!!

Tete: yeah

Tete: but i miss u

Tete: more than i had fun

God, you feel like a teenager again, suddenly overcome with this gushing urge to roll over and scream into your pillow. You’re glad he’s merely texting this to you right now because if he had said this to you face to face, your skin would most definitely stain scarlet from neck to hairline, scalding to the touch. Even months into officially being his girlfriend, these curveballs of overwhelming affection throw you off guard.

Again, the compulsion to tell him you miss him too yanks at your heartstrings. You truly don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to say how you feel, let yourself be soft and vulnerable. You know it’s one of your flaws so it’s something that you’re working on, but you can’t say you’ve made much progress.

But just as you decide that maybe you should take the plunge, suck it up and just text him those three words, he sends you a picture.

Tete:

No, not just a picture. A selfie, of him in bed, shirtless under the covers. “Oh, fuck…”

Hand clasped over your mouth to prevent any sound from involuntarily escaping, it takes a moment for your breath to return to you and for you to stop gawking. At this hour… Really? Is he seriously doing this to you right now?

His sleepy eyes. His messy curls. And his fucking nose mole.

The undoing of your existence.

Tete: this boy misses u :]

You: bruh

You: bruhhhhhhh

You: taehyung

Tete: oui my lady :))

You: 👁👄👁

You: can u not do this to my heart

You: y did u send me this </333

You: what was the reason

Tete: coz i miss u

Tete: do u like it

Tete: :D

‘Do u like it’... Actually, you have tears in your eyes, albeit mostly due to staring at a screen for too long so late at night, but it’s certainly contributed by this selfie. You tell yourself you’re acting out because it’s been six days since you last saw him. Perhaps Taehyung Withdrawal Symptoms is the explanation behind why you want to print and frame this picture because that is definitely not a normal reaction to a picture. But this is a masterpiece.

You: taehyung my soul left my body

You: like i could weep

You: u look so soft and fluffy

You: :’(

Tete: lollll

Tete: simp

This boy has some nerve?! Simp! He called you a simp?! Laughing like a maniac, you can’t even pretend to be mad at him, not after this picture he sent anyway. So you guess you are a simp. This selfie is your kryptonite.

Tete: jkjkkkkk

You: hahahaha

You: y r u doing this to me

You: its 4am

You: u can’t send me this rn

You: i won’t be able to sleep

Tete: o yeah how come ur still up?

Tete: go to sleepppp

You: can’t sleep

Tete: aw no whyyy

Because you miss him that’s why.

You miss Kim Taehyung. You miss Tete. You miss your boyfriend, your best friend, your other half. You miss his touch, his smile, his wide eyes when he’s confused. You miss his morning snuggles and late night kisses. You miss the way he hugs you from behind as you prepare your meals. You miss the wandering hands that he can’t help when you’re out in public. You miss playing PUBG together until the sun comes out then both sleeping past noon. You miss taking baths together where bubbles would get into your mouth as your kisses get heated.

You just miss him.

It’s only been six days and you’re in this state. What has he done to you?

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you let out a great sigh and deflate. No other reason offers itself for you to be awake at this hour; he knows you cherish sleep above anything. Teeth digging into your lip, you inhale long and hard, then exhale the gust of your cowardice. It’s not that deep, stupid. Fuck it.

You: coz

You: i miss u

You: like … a lot

You: 🙄

It’s final - you guess you’ve become a mushy wet sap. Truly it is embarrassing how big of a step this is for you; but the sense of pride and accomplishment feels oddly validating. Baby steps. The eye-rolling emoji right after is subconscious because you could only betray the core of your character that much. Forgo it and taehyung might not believe that it’s you.

Tete: omg

Tete: :D

Tete: rrly?

You: *blank kissy emoji*

Tete: wow

Tete: u actually don’t know how hard i’m smiling rn

You: simp

Tete: ofc that’s my middle name

Tete: i miss u a lot too

Tete: like a lotttttt

Tete: i’ll show u how much when i’m back

Ah… Of course, the Taehyung specialty - smothering you with his affection. You freeze at the thought of his wildfire kisses and head between your thighs. Nothing screams of how much you’ve missed each other more than a good dicking down, climax after climax until you’re both panting messes of sweat and entangled limbs. The anticipation makes you squirm under the sheets, legs pressing together.

You: pls do

You: i need u

It’s uncertain what spirit has possessed you at this ungodly hour for these words to come out of you. There’s an instant flash of ickiness, but you let the self-cringing simmer and dissipate into the realisation that this is okay, this is normal. Taehyung’s your boyfriend, couples text like this. You need to grow some.

Tete: fuck baby

Tete: i’m so not used to u texting like this, it's driving me crazy

You: crazy how *cat smirk*

If you weren’t smiling before, you’re definitely grinning like an idiot now. His reaction is predictable, yet oddly still, an incredible wave of satisfaction hits you. And because you want to savour this moment, maybe give him a taste of his own medicine, you send him a picture of yourself.

Camisole strap slid off your shoulder, hair splayed out, bottom lip deep red from biting down on it too much. Just to return the favour.

Tete: y/n

Tete: call me now

-Incoming call from Tete-

Laughing to yourself, you wait a good few seconds before picking up to prolong his torture. “Yes, Taehyung?” You put your thumb between your teeth to suppress the laughter.

“Fuck.” Against the silence of the night, the low rasp of his voice permeating into you from the speaker of your phone sends tingles up your toes. You’ve fucking missed his voice more than you thought. “Y/N… You can’t do this to me.”

“I told you, I miss you. Like… a lot.” The saccharine tone in your reply is foreign to your own ears, but you like the sound of it and the deep rumble it elicits from your boyfriend.

“How much?” Taehyung eggs you on. His words are barely slurred, so you gather that he has sobered up at least for the most part by now. Yet there is still a slowness to it that suggests

“Hmm, like… I touched myself every night at the thought of you a lot.”

A sharp inhale. Then silence. But you know better so you give him a moment to gather himself.

“You shouldn’t be putting that image in my head.” Exasperation is evident in his voice, desperate and yearning. You can imagine him now, one hand on his phone, the other sliding over his pants that are getting a bit too tight for comfort. Your breath hitches.

“Then you shouldn’t have sent me that picture, Taehyung…”

“You said it was soft and fluffy. What you sent me back was not soft and fluffy.”

“Just because it’s soft doesn’t mean it doesn’t turn me on. You do things to me… okay?” Heat trapped beneath the skin of your cheeks, your grip on the phone against your ear slackening as your thighs rub together.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard, baby…” Nothing gets him going more than the knowledge that he turns you on, it’s his weakness but somewhat his strength.

“That’s… unfortunate. Are you going to do something about it?”

His gulp is audible even over the phone. “Uh…” A sigh. “Um. Maybe. Thoughts are being thought.”

“What kind of thoughts? Thoughts about me touching myself and moaning your name? Thoughts about how much I wish my fingers were your cock thrusting so deep into me that I feel it in my guts? Or are you thinking about what you’ll do to me when you’re back tomorrow? Fucking my mouth until I’m crying or filling me up with your cum first?” Your hips buckle at the filth leaving your mouth. This is more like you; you haven’t abandoned your nature after all.

“Oh, fuckkkk.” His moan resonates into your skull, not quite as if he’s here with you but good enough to fill your desire. “Y/N… I need you so badly.” Breath ragged, you hear movement of his sheets in the background as he adjusts into a more comfortable position.

“Are you stroking your cock right now?” A warm slick oozes out of your own entrance. There’s something about Taehyung masturbating to you that elevates you to a different kind of high.

“What do you think, baby?” As you listen closely, you hear the slow rhythm of his pumping, and your fingers ache to pleasure yourself. ‘The things I’ll fucking do to you when I’m back.”

“Mmm, but it’s late, Taehyung, why don’t we go to sleep.”

“Wait, what?” The stroking stops instantly and surprise in his voice releases a smug satisfaction into your veins. The equivalent of pouring a bucket of ice water over his head right now. Teasing is an old undying habit, what can you say? “You wanna end the call now?”

“Yeah, we should sleep, babe.” Grin unsuppressed, you turn over onto your side, probably a bit too pleased with yourself at your success. Taehyung is an easy victim always.

“What the fuckkk?” Your boyfriend groans. “You’re seriously going to tease me this hard then leave me high and dry?” When you offer no more response than a sly chuckle, he add, “You’re so evil.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Taehyung. Think about it, we’re one sleep away from seeing each other again.”

“Fuck, I know. But you just got me so fucking horny, bruhhh. I thought we were gonna have phone sex.” You are still laughing at his whining, basking in the victory you’re holding over him.

“Taehyung, save it for the real sex.” The idea of phone sex crossed your mind several times to be honest, but you really want to collect every single drop of desire and longing and unleash it tomorrow. Raw and pent up. Nothing to dampen the fire.

A sigh of defeat down the line. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know?” You know. “How am I supposed to sleep now though? I’m so rock hard that it hurts.”

“You can figure that out yourself, big guy.” Your cheeks ache from smiling for too long; they often do during calls with him. “One sleep away, okay?”

“Ugh, fine, you demon. I can’t believe you sometimes.” He lets out another sigh. Your heart skips at the anticipation of how he will punish you for this. “Good night, I miss you.”

“Good night, I miss you more.” There’s a sudden change of tone with these words. Because you truly mean it. Sex and physical intimacy aside, you really just missed his voice, his banter.

You fall asleep almost immediately.

You don’t think you’ve heard a sweeter sound than the keys rattling at the door the next day. Practically leaping off the couch where you had been awaiting him in your Taeyhyung-less boredom, you run to the door.

As it swings open, heat courses to your chest when your eyes land on his, so full of comfort. Your boyfriend is home. Handsome as ever, much more tanned than your memory of him and much more attractive. White t-shirt and loose black shorts, a mundane outfit that only he could make look exceptional.

And as much as you want to sprint up and throw yourself onto him, your feet stay planted on the floor.

“Hey.” You barely breathe out.

Stay calm and composed, you tell yourself. It was only one week without him, it’s not like he’s returning from war.

But Taehyung doesn’t even reply, because in two long strides he is standing before you, bags tossed to the side, a sign of their insignificance in the presence of you. His arms find their home circled around you, face buried in your hair before you can utter another word. You don’t hesitate to return his embrace, holding his waist as you let yourself fall into his chest. He smells like what summer should, the ocean, sweat and young love; his familiar musk greeting you as if he never left.

Your lips meet his, strong and full of intent. He’s so unexpectedly soft when he kisses back, a timeless romantic dance like he is saviour your taste on his tongue.

With your weight leaning on him, he slowly topples back, stepping hastily until your bodies land on the couch. You fit your legs on either side of him as you burrow your nose in his neck and breathe him in, memorise him. In nothing but a large shirt, your bare thighs are exposed for his roaming.

When you pull away and face each other, you are struck by his beauty. His skin is sun-kissed and glowing, hair an effortlessly beautiful mess, the slightest hint of a stubble peeking through below his nose. Your heart belongs to him forever, you know it without a doubt.

“You smell so good. I missed you so much, baby.” And his voice… That deep baritone honey that you have taken for granted all this time - music to your ears.

“Imissedyoutoo…” You mumble, shy under his undivided attention and mercilessly unbroken eye contact.

With your chests pressed together, his chuckle rumbles into you. “What was that?”

“I missed you too… I guess.” Face flaming, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at your admittance, fingers twirling around his curls to preoccupy yourself.

But he cups your chin and turns your face to him, forehead pressing up to yours until your noses are touching, breaths mixing. “That’s not what you said last night.” Taehyung smirks, hands sliding down to your waist, the material of your shirt bunching up in his hands. “Do I need to remind you?”

“No…” You find yourself unable to keep your eyes open, your core pulsing mercilessly as you grind onto him. “How are you already hard, Taehyung…” And though you mean to scold him, it comes out breathless.

Lips hovering, he traces the edge of your jaw, tingling the sensitive little hairs on its way to your ear. When he reaches the shell of your ear, warm breath infiltrating so relentlessly into you, you almost lose yourself right there on his lap. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” He whispers.

“Show me.” Is all you make out.

His hands are already beneath your shirt before you even notice, palms kneading into your breasts as he takes your nipples between his two fingers and rolls. As he kisses you again, the same tenderness exchanges between your lips. It’s a different kind of desperation to be so slow and gentle, one that means so much more than sex, one that’s telling of how much you truly missed each other. Your hips roll with a mind of their own over him. One hand of his comes down to your ass, guiding the waves of your rocking. And each time his stiff clothed member digs into your clit, you whimper into his mouth.

Carefully, Taehyung rolls you over onto your back, sucking your bottom lip to keep the seal from breaking. He pulls away when he’s on top of you, and a string of glistening saliva bridges between your mouths. “Foreplay or no? Tell me what you want?” Compliant as ever.

“I need you to fill me up right now. Anything else can wait.” You watch the devotion ignite in his eyes. His fingers are in a hurry as they pull your panties off, knees spreading your legs open as he kneels between your gaping entrance. He tugs his shirt off from the collar, such smoothness in his action that your insides coil up. His newly-bronzed rich skin revealed, you can’t help but reach up and run your hands down from chest to navel, revelling in his blemishless ridges.

A low sound reverberates from the back of Taehyung’s throat as your touch travels down to unbutton his shorts. They fall loose. His hard throbbing members springs free, a glistening bead oozing from his slit. “You didn’t wear boxers?”

When you glance up, you notice his sheepish grin. He presses his mouth onto yours, still smiling, guiding you back onto your back. “I just couldn’t wait.” Taehyung whispers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, especially since last night… Ah, fuck.” Another deep groan erupts from him as you reach down and slather that bead of precum all over his tip. His head falls onto your neck, writhing under your merciless stroking.

His tip brushing against your clit, your toes curls at the teasing of your weakness, hips jolting up involuntarily and perhaps a bit too violently. You’re so embarrassingly sensitive after this many days without Taehyung, and he notices from your breathless reaction. Smirking, he takes his shaft in his hand and runs his stiff head over your clit mercilessly. And as you roll your head back helplessly, he nibbles onto your exposed neck, faint stubble grazing your skin.

“Quit the teasing…” You whine, unable to withstand the build up of twisting pressure begging to be fulfilled between your legs. “Just put-”

Taehyung pushes himself into you so abruptly that you yelp. And there it is, that mind-melting stretch of your walls that you’ve so much missed. “Fuck, Taehyung…” Your entire core feels ablaze, so numbing that your nails dig into the leather of the couch before they find grip on his arms.

“Like that, baby?” His voice his strained, as if he’s struggling not to lose his mind as well.

Nodding because you can’t make out a word as he slowly pulls out, you grab his face and pull him up to meet your lips. You whimper into him mouth when he rams into you again, hitting your walls in full force, no mercy. His kiss doesn’t lose its sincerity despite the juxtaposition of his vigorous thrusts, though you can’t say that he is quite as gentle with as before. You pinch his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it as your fingers get lost in his hair.

After seven days of deprevation of his cock, your cunt is leaking with the fluid of your arousal, aiding in the ease of each plunge. You feel the stiffness of his ridges pulling you open as he slides in and out of you. “Fuck…” He pants, mouth hovering over yours.

“Let me get on top.” Taehyung’s eyes flash at your suggestion, instantly rolling onto his back. He slips out during the switch of position and the wetness of your cunt is assailed by a sudden rush of cool air.

You swing your leg over and mount him, watching him watch you pump his dick, your own liquid slathered over him sticky in your hand. Letting his member fall against his abdomen, you grind over him between your folds, hands splayed out over his chest. The friction created each time your clit would slide over the thin pinch of skin where his tip unfolded into his shaft has Taehyung a groaning mess.

He looks remarkable under you.

You push his sweat-dampened curls out of his forehead, eyes half closed in euphoria, half watching you roll your cunt so lewdly over his length. You know you could make him cum like this if you continue. But you want him to cum inside you first, you want to feel that thick hot spurt of his desire shoot again and again into you until his cock is twitching.

So slowly, lubricated by your wetness, you sink inch by inch down until the skin of your ass meets his thighs. This angle fuck with your mind; you think you feel him at your cervix. Then your hips start to do what they know best, pounding over him with a rhythm that you’re proud of.

Taehyung grabs hold of your waist, your breasts, fury in his eyes as he watches you ride him with such determination. “I love you so much.” He heaves between heavy breaths.

“I love you, I missed you more than you could imagine.” You huff, thumb running over his red swollen lips.

“I love when you admit it.” He sits up and takes the swell of your breast in his mouth, making his way to your nipples where his tongue relentlessly flickers over.

Your thighs are starting to burn, core aching because his cock is thrusting up into you so deep that you feel it in your guts. The signs are appearing - your vision is going hazy, walls squeezing tightly around him, tangle upon tangles knoting in your stomach. His are too - his head is slumped against your chest, arms crossed behind your back as he holds you close to him, whole body starting to tense as he begins to curse.

Pace quickening, you don’t let the tire of your muscles stop you from your chase. The slap of your skins ringing in your ears, you keep riding, cunt swallowing his cock whole each bounce. Taehyung breaks first. “Fuck!” He calls out into your neck. His cum squirts into you, pulse after pulse, your boyfriend’s hips jolting each thrust.

“I’m so close, babe, keep going for me.” You plead, knowing how sensitive he is right after his climax. He nods wordlessly, face still buried in you hair. The lubrication of his cum abolishes any resistance, letting you slide over him easier than sitting down. And not five thrusts later, your own coil snaps. You through your head back at the wave of pleasure that drowns you, your entire core on fire as your moans echo through the room. It takes maybe twenty seconds for your walls to stop throbbing and for the orgasm to slowly die down.

Taehyung is already growing limp inside you after his orgasm. “Thank you.” You whisper against his forehead while you dismount. His cum flows out of your slit and down the insides of your thighs, but he refuses to let go of you.

When he looks up, you are struck by an overwhelming sensationf of adoration. His long dark curls fall slightly over his eyes, in disarray but just the way you like it. His eyes are so full of genuine love and gratitude of having you that you can’t help but capture him with your lips. “No, thank you.” He mumbles against you, falling back onto the couch with you in his embrace.

After a long kiss of after-sex affection, you pull away before it leads to a second round. “I want you to know that I really missed you a lot. I can’t even call you a big baby anymore because I stared at all the pictures you sent me every night till the sun came out.”

Taehyung’s boyish smile melts your heart. You’ve missed him way too much. His smile, his goofy comments, his tender kisses. “My heart… is squeezing…” If his smile doesn’t tell how smitten he is, his eyes definitely do. “I missed you so much too. All the boys made fun of me for being such a wettie ‘coz I couldn’t shut up about you.” The thought is so endearing that you can’t help but hide your face.

“So how was your trip? Plenty of hot girls drooling after you?” Trick question of course, you know that for a fact already.

“Haha, it was good, fun. Bet you couldn’t sleep ‘coz you were trembling from jealousy.” Scoffing you land a smack on his chest. “But nah, no hot girls. Nowadays there’s only one hot girl in my eyes.”

Your own lips spread like a cheshire cat. “Shut up, cutie.”

“Rachel McAdams.”

“Let go of me. Don’t even touch me.”

A/N: Moral of the story, never sit on their couch if you’re a guest at the Heatwave house.

24/08/20

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tahitianmangoes · 3 years

Text

Snow Falls

Pairing: Charles x Arthur Summary: After Charles had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow. Words:3018 Chapter 1/1

Not cannon compliant | NSF W

And the snow falls, the wind calls The year turns round again 'Til then put your trust in tomorrow my friend For yesterday's over and done

****

The cabin was the best way up a mountain, far from prying eyes. They were safe here. Arthur could rest here. Charles could almost rest too but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t spend the moments that he wasn’t caring for Arthur looking over his shoulder for bounty hunters, Pinkertons or worse, Dutch and Micah.

Arthur was awake before Charles, he had gotten out of bed and was stoking the fire. “I can do that,” Charles said huskily, still half asleep and half dressed, getting out of bed and going over to Arthur.

Arthur's frame was slimmer than it had been a few months ago, a few months ago when Arthur had been well enough to eat. At that time, Charles had been able to see Arthur's spine through his paper white skin when the older outlaw let Charles bathe him. No matter how hard Charles tried to get Arthur to eat more, he didn't. He couldn't. Some days, he had no appetite. Some days, it was all he could do to get out of bed and sit by the cabin window. His brilliant blue eyes were less blood shot now though, perhaps because the stillness of the mountains allowed him to sleep compared to their tiny but noisy room in Saint Denis. The colour had returned to his sallow cheeks and he was beginning to grow stronger day by day.

But Charles could still hear Arthur's breaths sometimes, laboured and shaky. He tried to hide how breathless he became doing simple things like even brushing the horses, tried to stifle his coughs from Charles perhaps because he was embarrassed but of course, nothing escaped Charles.

“I know,” Arthur replied, “but I want to. Maybe you can let me chop the firewood from now on - you always do it.” “Oh Arthur…” Charles started. “Don’t oh Arthur me, “ Arthur said quickly. “Charles, I know you’re just trying to help but… I’m bored! I’m so damned bored, stuck in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere like… Like Little Red Riding Hood!” Charles chuckled at this. “It ain’t funny, Charles.” Arthur said huffily, continuing to stoke the fire doggedly. “You said we’d be across the border soon and I’m... I'm feeling better. We could go soon.”

Charles sighed, he reached for Arthur’s face. Arthur let Charles stroke the soft downy hair out of his eyes and caress his cheek tenderly. “I just want to take care of you, my love. You’re… well, you’re still healing.” “I’m fine…” Arthur started but Charles brushed his thumb over Arthur’s lips in a bid to silence him. They held each other’s gaze, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Charles thart Arthur's shimmering blue eyes were more tired these days. But he was still the man Charles had fallen in love with, loved like no other. “We're lucky we've made it this far. I don't want to push the limits. We’ll go as soon as you’re ready, I promise.” Charles said gently, moving his head closer to Arthur's, “you know what the doctor said, you must rest.” “Charles-” “Arthur…”

They didn’t say it often. Arthur would flush and look away and Charles found himself getting tongue tied. So he kissed Arthur and Arthur kissed back. Arthur was always so strong but at the feel of Charles's lips to his own, he softened. He sighed into Charles’s mouth.

“You've spent your whole life taking care of other people,” Charles said to him in earnest, “let me take care of you. Just this one time.” Arthur was powerless to argue.

****

Charles chopped firewood in the morning, made sure Arthur took the medicine the doctor had prescribed for him for his pneumonia with his breakfast of eggs and potatoes. After that, Charles cleaned his guns, crafted some arrows and mended some of his clothes that seemed to miraculously sprout holes faster than he could stitch them. Arthur dozed, the medicine made him drowsy and the warmth from the fireplace only exacerbated things. Charles was glad to see Arthur resting, though. Once he was better, they would head further north into Canada and start a new life. Get some land. Maybe some animals, too. Maybe change their names. Spend every day together. Grow old together. Forget what happened out east. Love each other until they stopped drawing breath… But Arthur wasn’t well enough yet. Charles had waited this long, he could wait a while longer.

Charles’s cough started that evening after dinner. Arthur’s eyes widened, “d-did I..?” Charles shook his head and laughed softly, “it’s not contagious. I must have caught the cold, that’s all.” By the next morning, the cough had worsened and Charles's chest hurt; it felt like he was tearing through him with each swing of his axe while he chopped the firewood as usual. He fixed breakfast while Arthur slept in - he hadn’t slept well during the night, he'd woken wheezing a few times and sweating. Charles had feared it was a fever but he seemed better by the time he awoke the next day.

Charles didn’t tell Arthur that it hurt when he moved, that his head felt stuffy and the blood pounded like he’d been running. But he didn’t need to. Arthur noticed that Charles seemed groggy and tired. “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.” Charles said dismissively.

But Arthur saw how he shivered as he tried to stitch the clothes he hadn’t managed to finish yesterday.

“Come to bed.” “Arthur, I’m hardly in the mood-” Charles was cut off by Arthur’s rasping laugh. “I ain’t propositioning you, Mr Smith.” Charles looked over at Arthur who was still lying down and felt his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. “It’s warm here. We can keep each other warm, pair o’ invalids together.” Arthur said, patting the bed beside him. Charles smirked. “How can I resist?”

So the pair of them spent the rest of the day in bed together, huddling under the blankets, Charles's head aching and his chest tight, dozing in each other's arms in a contended way that they’d never really been able to when they had been living a life on the run.

They spent the next few days like that until the worst of Charles's cold passed. Arthur seemed to enjoy this role reversal of taking care of Charles. He made him hot herbal tea that he said Hosea had taught him to brew. Better than that stuff you buy in the store. Whether the tea really helped or not, Charles was able to get up and back to his usual self (or near enough,) after a couple of days. But by this time, there was almost no food left in the cabin. “I’m going hunting,” Charles told Arthur that morning. “Charles… you’re not well.” Arthur said sleepily, holding his hand as he went to leave the bed to get dressed. Charles tugged away reluctantly, fingers slipping through Arthur's like water. “I’m well enough. Besides, we’ll both starve if I don’t go. I’ll be back before nightfall, I promise you.”

But he wasn’t.

The snow came down heavy and thick. Charles cursed himself for being so careless, so stupid. He’d been tracking a mountain ram, perhaps a little too far. He should have known when to give up and turn back, maybe ride into town the next day and get supplies from the general store but as much as Charles would never admit it, it was his pride that kept him out longer than he should have been. He didn’t want to return to Arthur empty handed, though he knew Arthur wouldn’t be disappointed. It was stupid, male pride. It was that pride that found him unable to get back across the mountain to the cabin, to Arthur. Taima had always been a strong horse but this had proven to be her limit. The snowstorm rolled across the hills and Charles was lucky in that he found a cave that looked like it had once been home to animals of some sort - wolves he suspected - but now seemed empty. He did his best to light a fire for them both but the wood he managed to gather in the boisterous wind was too wet and the embers soon died out.

The storm swirled and the wind howled. He was reminded of the time after the Blackwater fiasco, when the gang had been stuck in a storm at Colter. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. He had shared his first kiss with Arthur not long after that, just before the gang had moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point. He remembered that night, when they’d camped under the stars in Big Valley, how Charles had felt so comfortable with Arthur in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. He’d never foreseen this future for himself, falling for a man, a white man, a murderer and outlaw… but Charles knew he couldn't question the way the world turns. All he knew was that he cared for Arthur in a way that set his heart on ablaze like nothing before.

Rains Fall had looked him deeply in the eyes that night when Arthur returned to Beaver Hollow and said, “go to him.” Charles had opened his mouth to protest but Rains Fall shook his head steadfastly, He had wore a sorrowful smile but the look in his eyes was as resolute as ever. “I have lost too many people I love, Mr Smith. You have too.” He lay his hand gently on Charles’s shoulder. “Mr Morgan can be saved. He needs you more than we do, now go.”

So Charles had rode into the night, the sky had gone from deepest navy to a blanket of obsidian above him. No stars shone. Charles rode desperately to Arthur, each beat of his heart was Arthur’s name as he flattened his body to Taima’s and urged her faster and faster, please, girl. Please just this once, please.

He had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow.

As the snow came down harder and faster than ever, Charles paced the cave, flooded with images of Arthur alone in the cabin and endless “what ifs?” Eventually the night rolled in, the moon reflecting off of the snow as if it were the ocean and Charles knew he he could do nothing but wait.

Two days passed. Charles managed to start a fire and kept himself and Taima warm. It was a comfort to have her there, she'd been through a lot with him and turned out to be the most loyal of everyone in the end. On the third morning, the snow had all but stopped and it was so serene on the mountain now, as if the storm had never happened. Charles mounted up and urged Taima back to the cabin, fearing the worst with every beat of his heart.

****

It was dark by the time Charles burst through the door of the cabin, Arthur was already on his feet. Neither said anything as they embraced, Charles holding Arthur so tight to his chest, tighter than he should be he didn’t care. Needed to feel the warmth of the other man, to feel his breath on his neck as they stood like that while time seemed to stand still and all that could be heard was the crackling from the fire. He wouldn’t let Arthur go ever again.

And then they were kissing. Kissing without care nor hesitation nor complexity. Just two people so fiercely in love.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles breathed, kissing Arthur so hard it almost knocked the air from his lungs. “I love you,” came Arthur’s reply, his lips soft and warm against Charles’s cold ones.

He’d missed Arthur desperately, that feeling that he might not see him again, just like the night he went to the mountain had flooded him Every doubt he’d ever had, every time he had wondered if he had made the right decision was erased.

He kissed Arthur hard, bruisingly so. Arthur sighed into the kiss, lacing his arms around Charles’s neck and pressing their bodies together.

Charles had never loved anyone like this, never felt the branches grow, felt it take root in him until it was at his very centre. All consuming. The reason he woke up in the morning and the reason he didn't just give up when things looked bleak. The reason the sunsets looked beautiful and the reason why food tasted good.

Charles didn't know which one of them had started to the bed or maybe it was both but suddenly, he was lying Arthur down and Arthur was kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt.

Charles hesitated, “Arthur… Are you sure?” He asked gently.

They’d only done this a handful of times, Arthur inexperienced and shy about his body, Charles not wanting to press the issue because of Arthur’s inexperience but also because Arthur was still frail. But he’d make love to Arthur every day if he could just to see the way the older man’s eyes seemed to shine when he lay beneath Charles and how his face lost all tension when it was enraptured by bliss.

Since Arthur got sick, they hadn’t been able to be intimate. Arthur’s health was more important. And then they were moving from place to place, Charles paranoid that someone had recognised them from their bounty posters even though he would slip out at night sometimes while Arthur slept and tear them down, burning them in the fire.

This was the first time in months that they were truly alone. Arthur leaned up to kiss Charles’s lips, before pulling away, their eyes meeting in a rich gaze, “it’s ok… I want to do this.” he told him

Charles brushed Arthur’s hair from his face, the love he felt overpowering him, hands working away at Arthur’s shirt and union suit until he was bare. Charles kissed his lover’s pale, flushed skin, ran his lips tenderly over the gunshot wound at his shoulder, let his tongue flick teasingly around Arthur's nipples and softly nibble at his stomach, delighting in how Arthur quaked beneath him and gasped.

Arthur’s hands reached for Charles, too, slipping his shirt off of him, fingers working at buttons and fastenings until Charles was freed of his clothes. Arthur continued, caressing the wide expanse of Charles’s back, down his flank and kneading his ass. Charles chuckled softly. “I want you,” Arthur whispered. “You’re sure?” “Y-yeah.”

Charles rolled them both over so that Arthur was now astride him. His feet remained planted on the floor, his hips supported by the bed, Arthur straddled him. Both were panting and flushed, both achingly hard.

Arthur looked away hesitantly, arms moving up instinctively to cover himself but Charles held his wrists gently, “I want to see you, all of you.” Still not meeting Charles’s gaze, Arthur positioned himself over Charles’s length and, not able to wait any longer, after quickly slicking it with hair pomade (that tore a shiver down Charles’s spine but he managed to stop himself from bucking up into Arthur), he sunk down, swallowing Charles inch by inch.

Both of them gasped and moaned softly. Arthur’s dazzling eyes closed now as he adjusted to the length buried deep inside him to the hilt..

Arthur moved, he groaned as he did so. Charles filled him, felt so big inside. He reached down, steading himself by placing his palms on Charles's broad chest and then began to find a pace that he could enjoy. Charles watched with adoration as Arthur rode him, slow and sensual at first. He saw the flush deepening, saw his brow furrow as he found a rhythm, Charles placed his hands on Arthur’s hips to steady him Charles reached up to caress Arthur torso, his hips, the swell of his ass. The older outlaw’s weight bared down on him, engulfing him. Everything from the past few days, the past awful months felt like white noise. All Charles could focus on was his hard cock inside Arthur, his breathing, Arthur’s moans, their bodies rubbing against each other's, the feel of Arthur’s erection on his stomach as he slid in and out out of him, him becoming part of Arthur and Arthur becoming part of him.

It didn’t take long for Arthur's moans to grow louder and for him to bring himself down harder, passage squeezing Charles, making Charles growl in response. Arthur’s eyes rolled back and his body stiffened, he juddered almost collapsing if Charles hadn’t been holding him. He came without touching himself the first time. Charles saw the ecstasy clouding Arthur’s vision and as he barely came down from his first orgasm, he began to chase a second, raising his hips, grinding down on Charles with a force that Charles hadn't been certain Arthur wasn't capable of. Arthur huffed and cursed, he chanted Charles's name between low, careless moans. Charles groaned, doing his best not to spill himself in Arthur just yet and fill him up as much as would love to, Arthur’s heat was hypnotising but so was the way he moved, so was the way he looked above him, fawn coloured hair framing his handsome face, biting down on his lip, unable to hide how good this made him feel, how much he loved this,

Charles’s cock wrung orgasm after orgasm out of Arthur until he was left breathless and exhausted and finally collapsed into Charles’s arms. Charles thrust up into Arthur now, shivering and chest rumbling as he came, foreheads pressed together, breath hot on his face, Arthur’s lips trailing lazy kisses over his skin until they both stilled and lay in each others arms.

They lay like that until it began to grow light again outside and Charles could hear birdsong. "I love you," Charles murmured. Arthur slipped his hand in Charles's and whispered it back before he began to snore softly.

#charthur #rdr2 #writing #charles x arthur #arthur morgan #charles smith

87 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 13

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, slight smut

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Anxiety, low self-esteem, discussions of sex, mention of (f) oral sex, sexual anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! As usual, if you do...please reblog and leave me a comment! Or send me an ask letting me know your thoughts, I’m glad you’re all loving Flower!Hobi!

; Flower Masterpost

Staring at your computer screen, a deep sigh leaves you as yet another email notification pops up in the corner. Clicking on it with as much enthusiasm as you’d give towards picking up a slug, you watch as it directs you back to Outlook and brings up the email. It was from your boss, who was literally sat across the small room from you, asking you to call a client and check whether they were still available for a meeting tomorrow.

Pursing your lips, you bring up her previous email that includes the client’s contact details and input their number into your work phone. Holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you tap your pen against your mouse as the dial tone fills your ear.

You really hated your job. 26-years-old, with a degree and you were just stuck doing the work people better paid than you didn’t want to do. Chewing on your lip, you contemplated looking at the list of job sites you’d begun to frequent lately, wondering whether or not you should apply for a new job.

The prospect of a job you actually loved and enjoyed was so foreign to you that it felt almost like a mythical unicorn right now, but you knew they existed. Hoseok loved his job, despite how everyone berated IT departments in every company. So you knew that there was something out there for you.

But what was it? And how could you get it when you had no relevant experience in...well anything except for the modern day equivalent of pen pushing? Some days you were rushed off your feet doing everything for your boss, acting like a secretary, personal assistant and administrative assistant all at once.

Getting tea and coffee for work meetings, sitting in and taking notes, writing up meeting notes and distributing them, arranging meetings and visits and so much more. It was all boring and dull. The very idea of doing this for the rest of your life was simply unimaginable but you just...couldn’t get the courage to put yourself out there and apply for something better.

You were afraid of rejection and you were even more afraid of getting accepted for a job and then finding out you couldn’t do it.

Almost without even thinking, you talk through with the client and make sure that they’re still okay for the meeting that was prepared for tomorrow. As soon as the phone clicks back into the cradle, you’re opening a response to your boss and sending her a quick email to let her know that it’s still on and that you’ve checked the room is still booked for them.

And then you just sit there a moment, staring at the screen and wondering what to do next. You had some menial tasks that needed to be done; photocopying documents for their meeting, forwarding invoices and so forth. But you just didn’t want to do any of it.

That was nothing new though, you never wanted to do anything at work.

A sudden flash of colour out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and look over to where your phone lay on the desk, just above your keyboard. One of the only good things about this place was that no one complained about phones being used as long as you were doing your work too.

And the green that lights up the screen can only mean that someone has sent you a message on WhatsApp. Licking your lips, you glance up at your boss before unlocking your phone quickly and clicking onto the app.

Upon seeing Hoseok’s name your grin turns even broader, feeling a little better already. He didn’t often text during the work day, often being far too busy to waste time on texting. Unlike you, he was permanently busy.

Hoseok [13:38pm]: Guess who got promoted?

Hoseok [13:38pm]: It’s me! I got promoted :D

Smiling even wider, you quickly texted back as pride fills your chest. Amazing how you’ve only been dating for four months yet you feel so happy and proud of him already. You’d known that he had a meeting today with his managers and he’d been a little worried, unsure whether or not they were going to be laying people off or not.

Y/N [13:39pm]: Yaaaaaaaaay. Can you boss people around now?

Hoseok [13:40pm]: I already boss people around

Hoseok [13:40pm]: Now I just have another department to boss...and more money :D

Y/N [13:41pm]: I is jealouz

Y/N [13:41pm]: (;﹏;)

Hoseok [13:42pm]: I still can’t get over how you text sometimes, honestly

Hoseok [13:42pm]: ANYWAY, it’s more money to spend on youuu :D and Kasumi

Y/N [13:43pm]: Hush, more money for you to spend on gigs

Hoseok [13:43pm]: :O don’t tell me how to spend my money >:[

And then you get a photo sent. Your phone’s setting means that you need to accept it before it downloads, image pixelated at first before becoming high quality. Clicking on it again, you frown momentarily before your eyes widen and your throat goes strangely dry suddenly.

He’s in an all black suit; black jacket, a silk black shirt and a skinny black tie to compliment it all off. It makes the hint of tattoos you can see pop vividly with their colours over the top of his shirt collar and the bit of wrist you can see on the hand that’s pointing at the camera. And it all complements his dark hair wonderfully, today actually styled properly and pushed up elegantly to reveal his forehead and let the astonishing beauty of his face be seen properly.

His face though, isn’t the pure sex his body is emanating. Instead, he’s got a comical expression in which his face is scrunched together, lips pursed in faux anger to go with his last text. But you don’t care, you can’t care.

Hoseok in a suit is...oh god. It’s everything, and you feel things for him suddenly that you’ve never really felt for anyone before from just seeing a picture. You...want to do things to him, right now.

The strength of your reaction actually makes you pause, looking up from your phone as you assess yourself to try and comprehend what you feel. And what you wanted was for Hoseok to send you a serious photo of him looking like that.

Y/N [13:49pm]: You’re in a suit?

Hoseok [13:50pm]: Yeah, manager meeting

Y/N [13:55pm]: Can you...send a serious picture?

Hoseok [13:56pm]: ...you want another selfie of me?

Y/N [14:00pm]: I mean...you don’t have to

And then you get another photo sent through, causing you to swallow thickly as you download it. You end up biting your lip harshly as you try to stop yourself from making any kind of noise out loud. No one had noticed that you hadn’t done a lot of work in the last fifteen minutes, but they would notice if you made the kind of noise that wanted to erupt from your throat.

Hoseok had evidently known where your thoughts had gone from your awkward text back to him, and he’d pulled out all the stops for you. Part of you wondered where on Earth he was that he could take pictures like this without getting strange looks from his colleagues but an overriding part of you didn’t care.

Because holy shit, your boyfriend was ridiculously fucking attractive and how in the hell had you pulled him?

This photo has him in almost the same angle, only two of his fingers frame the pink tongue that pokes out of his mouth, white teeth pressing against the back of his tongue ring while his eyes are dark with intent. There’s no playfulness in this picture, at least nothing that could be done in public.

No indeed and you squirm slightly in your seat, contemplating the wild fact that you were horny at work. This has never happened before and you didn’t really know that to do! But how could you not be? The way Hoseok was looking at the camera was the exact way he’d looked at you all three times he’d gone down on you so far.

And he knew it, given his suggestive pose with his tongue. In fact, you’re suddenly sent back to last week when he’d gone down on you in bed. You still weren’t even remotely comfortable asking him to do anything like that yet, but apparently he’d been wanting to so you’d shyly agreed once more.

Not that you were opposed to it or anything.

But those eyes he was giving the camera are the exact same he gave you from between your legs. And that just was not fair, because what were you supposed to do about this in the middle of work? You had just under three hours left to work before you left and he wouldn’t even finish till six.

Y/N [14:07pm]: Handsome

Y/N [14:08pm]: Are you still staying over?

Hoseok [14:10pm]: That’s all you gotta say to that, you wound me. And yes, be around 7

Y/N [14:11pm]: <33

Putting your phone down, you stare at your computer screen that has gotten three new email notifications since you got distracted. You don’t click on them though...instead you just chew on your lip, tapping your fingertips against the desk slowly as you think.

Maybe tonight...maybe…

The quick rapping on the door lets you know that Hoseok is finally here, half an hour late. Opening the door to him, you don't even get a chance to say anything as he brushes past you, kicking his shoes off and apologising profusely.

"I'm sorry, they kept me an extra half an hour 'cos some idiot basically broke his laptop and then there was traffic so I haven't been able to go back and change." He's taking his coat off, hanging it up on the little rack on the wall before looking at you and letting out a deep sigh.

"Oh I'm so glad to be home. Today has been so fucking stressful, maybe I should have turned down that promotion and it’s not even been a full day." You don't even get time to consider the fact that he just called your place home because he's suddenly leaning forward, giving you a quick kiss before moving into the kitchen.

Watching after him, you simply stare in bewilderment. You're not entirely sure that you could speak right now, hit by the double whammy of his slip of the tongue and his clothes.

It was true that Hoseok had pretty much spent the last month near enough living at your place, only going home a day or two a week but you hadn't realised he'd felt that comfortable here. You felt a shy warm happiness bubble in your chest at the thought though, looking down at your hands as you bite your lip to stop smiling like a little girl.

But what really turns you into an excitable mess is his outfit. He's still wearing the suit from earlier, his hair tousled from where he'd obviously been running his hands through it in the stress of his work.

And if he'd looked hot in his photos, he looked damn near sinful in person.

Which is why you simply watch him with wide eyes, moving into the kitchen slowly and resting a hip against one of the counters as he peers into the slow cooker that you'd set up this morning before going to work. It was just a simple beef stew with a hint of red wine, the scent delicious but you found that wasn't what was making your mouth water.

Not tonight.

"So...I didn't...know you had a suit like that." The words are incredibly stilted, sounding unbelievably awkward in your mouth and you inwardly cringe. Particularly when you see Hoseok stiffen, ever so slightly beneath the delightful black fabric that outlines his lithe body beautifully.

You knew that Hoseok had been incredibly patient with you. Probably more patient than most men would have been, not even slightly pushing you and making sure that you are completely comfortable with every moment. He didn't ask for much and you often felt bad that he seemed to give up so much in exchange for the eternal patience he gave to you.

But he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to thrive on what little advancement in your relationship he could get. You still got shy when he gave you oral obviously, but you were far more eager to say yes compared to the beginning.

And tonight...tonight you wanted to finally let him get the pleasure he’d willingly denied himself to keep you comfortable. Especially when he looked like that.

It wasn't just a 'giving him a good time' too because you like him, a lot, but also because quite simply...for the first time ever...you wanted to have sex with someone. You desperately wanted to find out what he felt like inside you. Feel him thrusting within you and in turn explore him to find out what made him jerk, made him twitch and made him moan.

Oh god yes, you wanted to hear him moan. The very idea of him making those kinds of noises because of you was intoxicating and you squeeze your thighs together, fully in the knowledge that you were probably wet already.

You have no doubt that Hoseok can tell there’s something different, an unusual kind of tension in the air as he turns around slowly, brow raised. Glancing away, you find yourself playing with the label of a Coke bottle on the side, fingers picking until it came away.

Part of you wanted to be brash and forward, boldly tell him what you wanted but as soon as you consider doing it, it felt like an iron band wrapped around your lungs. Breathing was made a lot of harder suddenly and you couldn’t get any words out, your limbs feeling cold and tingly with nerves and anxiety.

Oh how you wished desperately that you could be a bolder person because you just knew that you weren’t at that level of confidence yet with him. Even if you felt no expectations from him. You just weren’t there, and that’s why you were hoping he’d understand and take the lead once more.

And Jung Hoseok, your wonderful boyfriend who you still believe is far too good for you, does so. You have no idea how he knows that you want to do more than cuddle or talk, no idea how he can tell that you’re struggling to get across your desires but he does.

He smiles slowly, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk at first before turning into that beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter. Moving slowly, he walked over to you and you press yourself into the counter, eyes widening as you took in the long and loping stride.

Without so much as a word, he stands firmly in front of you, leaning forward just enough to place his arms on the counter, trapping you between them. You can feel the heat of him, the way his leg’s brush against yours with how close he is and the way his jacket slides along your stomach slightly. Combined with the fresh scent that was so unique to Hoseok and the dark look in his eyes, you felt completely overwhelmed by him.

Overwhelmed, in the best way possible.

Leaning down, Hoseok moves close enough until you feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours, the movement deceptively soft given the sexual tension that’s so thick between you both. Biting your lip, you force yourself to remain quiet to see what he does.

“I have more suits than you might realise baby. Why? Do you like it?” His voice is annoyingly light, innocence laced into every syllable that matches his perfect, angelic face too well. Smiling, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he waits for an answer but before you can even say anything, his arms move a little and you feel them pressing against your waist.

“Y-yeah, it...it looks good.” You stutter out, body heating rapidly as you lick at your lips, mouth absurdly dry. And before even realising...you’re pressing your face against his black shirt, feeling the soft silky material rub at your cheek while all you can think of is what the firm chest beneath it looks like.

Hoseok seems to pause for a moment before his hands move to rest on your hips, hesitantly stroking along them. Almost instantly you cringe forward, the feel of his hands so foreign and a subtle panic rushes through you as your mind screams at where he’s touching. The place you dislike on yourself, the place society has taught you isn’t beautiful.

But he touches you with so much care, light and gentle. He doesn’t push further with you, simply let the moment hold despite how tense you both are. You know what he’s doing, instinctively understand because he’s done this your whole relationship so far. He’s letting you get used to him, decide whether or not you feel comfortable with what he’s doing...what he’s offering.

Pressing your ear to his chest, you close your eyes and inhale deeply, shakily as you fight the demons of insecurity over yourself and your previous sexual experiences. Originally, you’d considered perhaps returning the favour to him and giving him oral sex. But now, hearing the strong beat of his heart and the warmth that has comforted you for many nights now...now you want more.

So you let him know, in that quiet and shy method that he must have become so used to. Your own hands tremble slightly as you move your head back just enough before you press them to his chest, hesitantly just letting yourself feel him like this for the first time. And then your fingers move to his collar, the top two buttons already undone.

Finally, finally you glance up at him, feeling unbelievably frightened that he might push you away, decided he didn’t want it. Didn’t want you.

It had been years since you’d done anything...you knew this and he knew this by now. But you knew that he was far more experienced, so experienced in fact that it scares you a little. You felt like you’d be judged against others and found wanting, even if you knew that Hoseok wouldn’t do that.

“Hoseok,” You start, words meek and quiet. “I...erm, I want...I mean...I don’t…”

And Hoseok moves his hands to cup your cheeks, smiling at you sweetly, so sweetly. It’s so reminiscent of when he’d gone down on you the first time and you get the urge to suddenly cry at how caring he is. How lucky you are.

“It’s okay. I know...you’re not hugely experienced and you’re not confident. That’s fine, I don’t expect anything from you. We don’t need to do anything, I was just teasing. If you want, I can just go do-”

“No. No, not today. I don’t...I don’t want that. I want...I want you.” This time, the words are a tiny bit more confident but rushed out. “I just...sex...I’ve never really...understood why people like it. You know? It just...felt okay. Maybe it was me but like...yeah, I mean...you know. It was…rushed and you’ve done so much more than me and-” Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to interrupt you, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he lets out a shushing noise.

Suddenly, surprising you entirely, he backs away and gently takes your hand to lead you back to the couch. Without a word he gets you to sit down before doing so himself, taking both your hands between his own with a quiet sigh.

“Okay, I just...want us to talk for a moment, so that neither of us get confused or offended or anything. So...yes, I’ve had a lot of sex, I won’t deny that. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna judge you though. You’re my girlfriend, the vast majority of everyone else was not. I’m incredibly turned on by you and I wanna beat my chest like a neanderthal knowing you want me too. I know you’re shy and you’re not confident of yourself, which is just plain wrong by the way because you are unbelievably beautiful. I just...I don’t want to move too fast for you and have you regret it. So...talk to me. Please.” You’re sure this man really isn’t real, because surely no one really existed like him in real life.

“Why are you so patient?” You blurt out, brow furrowed in confusion and he looks just as confused for a moment before smiling.

“Because being pushy doesn’t get me anything? Except upsetting you and making you close up. And then if you do anything for me, then it’s because I’ve pushed and pushed until you feel forced to do it. So I’m patient. I don’t really mind, I like your company and it’s strangely rewarding seeing you slowly open up to me. I’m not doing anything for an ulterior motive.” He’s so earnest that you can tell he’s being honest but it still confuses you.

Not that you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything.

So inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands and gave him a tight smile before talking. Something about Hoseok has always been comforting and reassuring, like he won’t judge you and you know he’ll be the same this time.

“I haven’t...slept with anyone in years. You’ve probably realised or...maybe I told you. But...well. I mean,” Your hands feel so clammy in his. “It wasn’t really good? I never...you know, with anyone. It just...felt fine. Good enough that I’d do it again but not so good I actively wanted it. Thought something was wrong with me because of that. I’ve accepted there isn’t...maybe even wondered if I was asexual for a while or something. Maybe I still am? I don’t really know. I just...I like you...a lot...and I like doing...things with you. I’ve never...you know…”

“Orgasmed?”

It’s a simple word and he says it so casually but you find yourself squirming at it, feeling warm and embarrassed about it. Not only talking about orgasms but also admitting that you’d never had one during sex before. So you simply nod, unable to get the words out and frowning in frustration at yourself.

“Hey...hey look at me,” Hoseok says gently, squeezing your hands till you do as he says. “Don’t feel embarrassed about it. It’s not something to feel bad about. This probably isn’t what I should be saying right now...but I’ve had a lot of sex, with...a sizeable amount of women. Do you know how many times they orgasmed during sex?”

Frowning, you wonder momentarily whether you’re meant to feel better with the knowledge that he’d been with a lot of women. Or that some of them had even orgasmed with him. But you sensed he was trying to make a point, and Hoseok had never been cruel.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“Not that many of them to be honest. I wish I could boost my ego and say I have a 100% strike rate but...I don’t. Sometimes girl’s would cum, most of the time they didn’t. I had to go down on them or something. And I’ve never had a single woman orgasm from penetration alone, they all needed some help. What I’m trying to get across here to you, and very badly because there’s nothing less sexy than hearing about your partner’s...escapades but...please don’t think that you’re always meant to orgasm during sex. Sometimes you might, sometimes you might not. I know that for some women, they just enjoy the feeling because they can’t get there. Sometimes, I don’t even orgasm. I’m not in the mood or something or I get bored...or I’m too drunk.”

That makes your eyes widen in shock and surprise. You hadn’t even though guys could just...not orgasm during sex. It made you realise how little you really knew, and suddenly you felt a little embarrassed about your lack of knowledge about sex. But he wasn’t being condescending or demeaning, so you decided to take the plunge and ask him.

“R-really? You...I didn’t know guys...I thought you just always did.” Hoseok laughs at that, looking so attractive that you can’t help but bite your lip. Even though you’re having a serious conversation with him, you still can’t mask the desire you have for him. Damn him for looking so good in a suit.

“The vast majority of the time? Yeah, it’s no problem. But sometimes like...I’m too tired to bother anymore and I just don’t want to carry on. Sometimes I’m a bit stressed and can’t get there which then leads to anxiety that I’m not. I try not to take it to heart but...you don’t need to be embarrassed. If you wanna orgasm then we can definitely try, if you don’t feel like it, then we don’t need to. It’s entirely up to you, I swear.”

Silence falls between you both and you stare at your hands, swallowing thickly. He’s offering you so much, and part of you feels bad. But at the same time...you want to just enjoy him without the stress or anxiety of not performing like you thought you were supposed to.

Clenching your jaw, you make the decision and nod your head to yourself. Yes, you were doing this.

So without a word, you grab onto this small flame of confidence he’s lit within you and let go of his hands, instead using them to grip the lapels of his jacket and pulling him forward. His eyes widen for a second and he lets out an ‘oomph’ before you’re kissing him.

It’s not pretty at first, almost painful from the force and you both take a few seconds to reacquaint yourselves with each other before it finally starts moving smoothly like usual. Only this time, the kiss is far more intense than anything you’d had before with him, almost as if you were trying to devour each other with the force and intensity.

Pulling away momentarily, you look at him and groan softly at the desire in his eyes. You’ve seen him in moments of pure lust before, but he’s bordering on unrestrained here. And you want that, so you pull him back in, moulding your lips to his own and feeling the tingle of excitement that runs through you.

“Not here, not here. Please, I really wanna fuck you on your bed.” Hoseok gasps out as he pulls away once more, trying to avoid your grasping hands with a breathy laugh.

You don’t even question it, getting up quickly and practically tugging him into your bedroom in your eagerness. The sheer laugh of delight he gives you as you do so invigorates you, bolstering the confidence that’s spurring you on and you hope it lasts.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him into a kiss once you’re in the safe haven of your bedroom, you prepare to trust him with your insecurities once more.

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artnerd1123 · 3 years

Text

Among Us: CR3WM8TS

Beneath the Waves ——————————————

It’s not just the humans who do the exploring. Especially when their ships are so easy to poke around in...

Among Us archive/askblog Fic chapters post

——————————————

at long last!!! we have the introduction of a very special guest! and by that, i mean the one member of the crew who has yet to appear LKSJDF. that’s right, it’s nubnub’s debut! hope y’all enjoy :D

and big big shoutout to @vaaloirr for proofreading this for me!!!!!! y’all should check hir out, ze’s rlly rad :>

###~###~###

SHIP SYSTEM LOG REPLAY: TIMESTAMP [HR:MIN:SEC]: 01:27:02 AFTER ARRIVAL

System setting: DOCKED [STORAGE AND VENT MONITORING]

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: DOCKED AT [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] Course: N/A Systems:

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: MATERIAL BUILDUP DETECTED

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

###~###~###

Today was a better day. A simple statement, with much behind it. A better day implied much. It needed a reason. Something to set it apart from the others in a positive manner. To those who cared, it all boiled down to the sky’s sudden roaring. That meant whatever was living above the water might be leaving a gift instead of pain.

The first time it happened, everyone had fled to the deep. The sky was not meant to roar. When it did, it could mean many things. None of them were positive. It could mean death- the large beaked horrors that flew about above the waves were merciless with their soft-bodied kind. It could mean fire raining from above- rare, yes, but it had taken one too many of them for their liking. It could mean horrible flashes of light- the huge crackles of terrifying light leaving those too close to the surface charred and twitching. This time, they expected no different. The seas were always one to change. But danger never had. So when the roaring died down to bring a myriad of different noises, different lights cast into the water and towards the sky, no one was sure what to think. Many wanted to move out of the area. There was more reef, sure. Plenty far away from whatever was scuttling around on the coral. Some wanted to wait in the deep, confident the sky’s beasts would finish off beings that tried to live on the surface. An idiotic choice, with them around. And still others… well. They were a curious species, after all. It was only a matter of time before they found out the strangers had something useful.

###~###~###

The sky finished roaring not too long ago. The water surrounding the coral island seemed to have settled. But all was not as it appeared. Just out of sight, a quartet of scarlet eyes quietly watched the goings-on of the strange house. They guessed that’s what it was- in the handful of months the strangers had been here, the multicolored figures always seemed to retreat inside. There was all manner of things stored in there. They hadn’t gotten a good look, of course- their curiosity wouldn’t lead them headfirst into danger- but peeks in the windows showed plenty of shiny metals and blinking lights. Not to mention they’d sometimes take the top of their shiny coverings off. It was a shock to see that for the first time. But their rainbow of smooth coverings just made them all the more intriguing. It seemed to factor into their very social fabric! The strangers were fascinating to watch. Fascinating to hear, too. The strangers’ voices carried over in the sea salt breeze, making the creature’s smaller set of ears flick forwards. They had to wait until they heard the right thing to head inside. The sounds these strangers made were in some sort of odd, squeaking tongue. Like the delphiins, if a bit deeper in pitch. It didn’t take too long of observing to realize it was a language. Didn’t take too long for those of their people who remained to try and understand it. The creature was certainly doing their best. It took a lot of work, a lot of watching, and a lot of listening. They were getting the hang of it well enough, so they thought. But observation wasn’t what the hidden swimmer was here for today. They eased a bit closer, their large pink back tentacles holding tight to the side of the coral island. Their back claws scraped lightly against the webbed rock, front paws flexing impatiently. Peeking around the side of the strangers’ house, they spotted plenty of them moving about outside. That might’ve been a problem. The sight of them swarming about large capsules, though, put their mind at ease. Ah, yes. The strangers brought each other containers from far away. They didn’t seem to hunt or farm at all, or sit out in the sun long enough to survive, so they needed sustenance from their brethren. Fair enough. Their first set of eyes trailed wishfully after the multicolored swarm and their capsule. The other set strayed to the place it emerged from. It was some sort of house that flew- they’d heard it roar in and out of the sky plenty of times. They also knew that’s where the capsules were kept. Their mind wandered briefly back to the time- a few weeks after the strangers appeared- that their friends and themself managed to knock one of the capsules into the sea. Oh, how they’d feasted on all the food inside… The months after were just full of finding the best ways to get at them. And, of course, how to recognize which capsules had food, and which ones had more strange metal objects. They’d never have to worry about food again, so long as these strangers were around. Of course, there was still the matter of getting the capsules in the first place. Which was easier said than done. They’d been careful to keep track of what colors they saw as the strangers scurried past. In previous trips, their friends had been able to steal an unused covering to sneak around the ship. They noticed the strangers got rather distressed if they saw more than three of the same color walking around during a drop off. They got nervous if there were two, if the other flying house was absent. They’d all whisper about some “eemposster,” and then the creature and their friends would have to lay low for awhile. The bad thing about a drop off like this is that you didn’t know which suits would be in the house. From the looks of it, the creature would be hard pressed to find an unused color. So, waiting on plan B it is. As worried as the strangers were about those “eemposters,” they didn’t seem to guard their flying house after removing their capsules. They had no reason to, they supposed. They had what they wanted. The creature ducked under the waves, tentacles pulling them along the rocks and coral. Their brown fur and bright teal accents kept them relatively well hidden, though the business of unloading capsules did the job better. They popped the top of their head out once they reached the back of the flying house. One pair of ears flicked forwards, they listened carefully to the strangers’ conversation. One of them- a green one with a star shaped marking- was busy talking with another- a bright blue one with a similar star mark. They were leaders, if their observations were right. The green one was gesturing to the flying house, saying something about ‘crayts’ and ‘dun unlohding.’ The blue one seemed pleased by this. As did the creature. Those words- ‘dun unlohding’- was the all clear they’d been waiting for. Turning their attention to the flying house, the creature approached it carefully. There would be a hatch somewhere they could get in… they just needed to remember where it- aha! There, near the water- a hatch surrounded in yellow and black stripes. They chirped to themself excitedly, suckers glowing in satisfaction. They darted closer, eyes fixed on their prize. Once they were under the hatch, they carefully reached a pair of tentacles up towards it. They made sure their suckers had a nice grip on the metal before drawing their body up too. They studied the hatch carefully, their remaining tentacles helping anchor them to the metal surface. It was closed tight, a squarish pattern locking the sides together. Fortunately, this flying house seemed a bit old. The doors weren’t as tightly sealed as they usually were. The creature stuck the tips of their claws in the crack, wiggling and scraping at it until they had a good purchase. Grip established, they carefully braced themself against the side. And yanked. The resulting screech of stubbornly moving metal made them cringe, but there was no shout of confusion from back on the island. They squinted as they yanked again, metal groaning in protest. But it gave away soon enough. It always did. They grabbed the edges of the hatch with their tentacles once it was open enough, holding it so they could squeeze inside. These were the times they were glad their body was so malleable. A dark, dirty metal tunnel yawned before them. They chittered again as their claws hit the floor, proud of themself for sneaking in. Of course, their pride faded the second their tentacles let go of the hatch sides. It shut with a rather loud slam. They didn’t manage to clamp their mouth shut before a surprised shriek slipped out. They slapped their front paws over their mouth, curling into an anxious ball. Had anyone heard them??? Was it over??? They sat silent in the dark for a couple minutes. Waiting. Nervous. … when nothing happened, they let the tension leave their body. Ok. It was ok. They’d just. Move a little quicker this time. Turning their back to the hatch, they started crawling up the tunnel. The dark was no problem- they could see just fine. Not to mention the soft teal glow of their suckers and short horns. It made the whole place feel like a sea cave… if a bit stranger to move in. After all, there was no water up here. They reached another hatch soon enough- it was outlined with the same yellow and black stripes, some red squiggles above it like a label. They weren’t even gonna try to decipher what it said. But they knew it was their way in. They were more cautious with this next hatch, squeezing through carefully and slowly easing the sides back together. It still gave a louder thunk than they preferred, but it was leagues quieter than the last time. Hatch troubles taken care of, they let their gaze trail to the room around them. It was a tall one, with plenty of large capsules sitting around. Some of them even sat on top of each other. The thought of all the food inside was already making their mouth water, tongues lolling out of their mouth… … They shook themself out of it. Focus!!! They scolded themself. They still had to find a food capsule. They took a moment to tuck their tentacles into their back- no need to leave them out to hit things in such a cramped space- before slinking towards the nearest capsule. It was large. Too large to get out of the hatch, unfortunately. But they gave it a sniff anyway, hoping there’d be something worth snagging. The scent of iron and copper greeted them. They curled up their lip with an unhappy chirp. No, not that one. They moved on to another one a little closer to the entryway, tail flicking eagerly.

The process of sniffing and poking at capsules continued for longer than the creature would’ve liked. All the food was better hidden for some reason- it was frustrating. Eventually, though, they rooted out a small capsule that smelled absolutely tantalizing. They stood over it gleefully, claws twitching in eagerness. If it wasn’t foolish, they’d rip it open and chow down right this very moment. However, this wasn’t their home. And they didn’t know how long the strangers would stay away. So they grabbed the capsule, digging their claws through the steel outside to gain a hold. Their tentacles slithered out of their back, lifting their body off the ground as they held the capsule protectively. From there, they picked their way across the room and back to the hatch. It was a little harder to get it open this time. Not necessarily because they couldn’t use their front paws- that was fine- but rather they had to use another set of tentacles to do so. As strong as they were, the slimmer ones on their arms had no suckers to help hang on. But they managed in the end. It was a straight shot back down to the other hatch once they were through. They’d figured out the one in the other room, so this? This was a cinch.

The only signals that anything was amiss was a metallic thunk as the hatch closed, and quiet ripples as the creature disappeared under the waves.

###~###~###

SHIP SYSTEM REALTIME LOG: System setting: DOCKED [STORAGE AND VENT MONITORING]

Location: SECTOR G Ship Status: DOCKED AT [PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G] Course: N/A Systems:

Supplies: ERROR - RELOADING…

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

...

Supplies: ERROR - RELOADING…

Storage Chutes: BLOCKAGE DETECTED - PLEASE EMPTY

Vents: CLEAR

…

Supplies: [TWO] CRATES SHORT

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

#au:c #cr3wm8ts #among us oc #nubnub among us #groud among us #(bc they do make a brief appearance)#uhh ask to tag #theres nothing super bad i jus know nub might seem a bit unnerving or smth idk LSDKJF #n e way #i hope u guys like...#i had... fun with this...#and now nub is around :>#yey #arty writes

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risingsouls · 3 years

Text

Recruited: Chapter 5

[I finally got a chance to finish this next chapter. Enjoy Nabooru having a moral crisis. :D]

Nabooru

Nabooru had never been more glad to exit a space than when they finally landed on the planet assigned to them and she climbed out of her pod.

"How have you guys flown in those all these years? And for days at a time?" She stretched her arms to the sky and bent backward, her spine popping luxuriously. Straightening once more, she pulled one knee to her chest, stretched it out long, and then repeated it with the other. "Especially you two. You're bigger than me and I felt cramped."

"Sometimes it's months, rookie," Nappa pointed out with a snort. His lips twisted into a smirk. "Depends on how much trouble we've caused lately."

Nabooru grimaced. The few day trip to Frieza Planet 6892--formerly known as Socandoria before the Empire took over, according to the reports she spent much of the trip memorizing thrice over--wore on her enough, the ache of sitting still for so long apparent in her tight muscles. She supposed that was why the pods were equipped with sleep-inducing technology. Forcing their pilots to sleep was probably the only way to keep them from going absolutely mad with boredom on longer flights. She considered using it herself when she only managed to doze, the weight of anxiety over not screwing up her first mission keeping her hyper aware and paranoid about forgetting some minute but somehow pertinent detail on the briefing that had been sent to their scouters.

"Perhaps we should have caused more because this job is a joke," Raditz grumbled, his expression a near mirror of her own displeasure. He tapped the side of his scouter, the device beeping rhythmically as it performed a scan of the planet's power levels. "The reports all say this planet has been sucked dry and so far, I'm not seeing much to refute that."

Nabooru reached up to perform her own scan. Clusters of weak power levels cropped up here and there over the planet, likely congregated in the three larger cities and five work camps that still functioned and hadn't been abandoned. The higher ones belonged to the few remaining soldiers stationed there, either as peacekeepers of sorts or foremen. From where they landed, she could see next to nothing as far as the eye could see, save for a few lone what she could only call trees from their height. Their strange, dull pink to brown gradient from top to bottom and lack of leaves or fruit made it difficult to classify them confidently as such. She heard no wildlife in the vicinity, either, and the ground beneath their feet lacked vegetation.

"Enough chatter. The quicker we deal with this mission, the faster we can leave and move onto something potentially more exciting." Vegeta perched himself on a rock, one leg bent at the knee and his forearm perched lazily over it. His brows and eyelids dipped with the corners of his mouth in evident boredom. "Raditz, get going on the recon. We don't have all day. Since there's nothing here, I expect you back here in a few hours."

Nabooru raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be quicker if we all did it, though?"

His dark eyes narrowed and snapped to her, and his loosed tail stiffened at his side. Nappa, who had taken up a spot standing next to his perch cleared his throat and discretely shook his head. Raditz wore the hint of a smirk. Her first misstep already, it seemed. She could see Bruvi's disappointed but unsurprised expression in her mind's eye. They rarely went a day of her training all those years ago without Nabooru's stubbornness or quick tongue earning her some form of punishment. Apparently not much had changed.

"Is that what you think?"

A challenge, a threat. But Nabooru stood her ground, straightening her spine and resting her hands on her hips. "I do. It's only logical. You said you wanted out of here quickly, and recon is basically the only thing we have to do for now, isn't it? More people cover more ground. It's not difficult."

The prince's expression darkened. His tail lashed the rock behind him, sending debris and dust skyward. "Already questioning my authority, then? Perhaps I should have simply killed you after all."

Reason reminded her of her people, of how their fate was tied to her performance and behavior. It chided her for her pride and willed her to bow her head and admit defeat. Instead, she lifted her chin in defiance. If she survived, she could learn her lesson another day. She refused to let one more person bully her. She had to compromise enough of herself in this position, and it would only get worse as time wore on.

"Maybe you should have. But you didn't. And you won't now."

Vegeta stared at her, unblinking and observing. Nabooru remained rigid, hoping she maintained a stalwart resolution and hid the wave of discomfort she felt beneath his burning gaze. The display would either impress him to what little degree he could be impressed or he would make good on the challenge she proposed. A gutsy maneuver that she had only successfully utilized a few times with her betters out of likely sheer dumb luck.

Finally, a growl rumbled from Vegeta, and his expression reverted back to boredom from venturing toward irate. "Whatever. If you're so concerned, you can accompany Raditz," he said, waving her off. "Question me like that again, and your punishment will be far more grueling than a horrifically boring tour of a dead planet."

"Can't be any more boring than sitting around here doing nothing with you two," Nabooru countered, the hint of a smile on her full lips when he cast her a withering glance. "Or at the very least a better learning opportunity. I need to learn everything I can to be a functional member of this team, right? I want to carry my weight and not be a burden."

She ignored Vegeta’s snort and turned to Raditz instead. "Guess you're my new trainer." Her feet left the ground and she hovered by his side. "Lead the way."

"Right." Amusement danced in his dark eyes as he nodded to the other two Saiyans and he took off, Nabooru matching his speed and remaining at his side.

"You've got a lot of nerve," he said once they were out of earshot. It didn't sound like he fully meant it as a negative. "You've realized that can get you killed around here, right?"

Nabooru shrugged. "Of course I have. But I'm not about to let Vegeta believe I'm a doormat if I’m to work with you three." She watched the numbers tick down on her scouter as they neared the first city. "It was stupid, I know. Nappa told me enough about him, so I knew the gamble it was. Don't tell me I had you worried about me already."

"Worry is a strong word if you're going to be a moron. No matter how funny that was." Dilapidated buildings rose over the horizon, and near unusable roads cropped up beneath them leading into the city. "I'm just hoping having a newbie on board will get me out of some of the grunt work like this eventually, so I can't have you dying on your first outing."

"And here I thought you might kind of like me."

They flew over the city and selected a point near the center to land, the few denizens milling about casting them little more than passing glances. Used to soldiers doing the same, Nabooru guessed. Close up, the buildings were in worse shape than she thought, many of them either in a state of full disrepair and boarded up, collapsing in on themselves, or the businesses near empty. Most of the stalls lining the street stood empty, shells of speedy and cheap commerce that livened up the streets once upon a time. Now those that manned the stalls offered their wares but with a wary or unenthusiastic air about them.

"What is it we're looking for?" Nabooru asked at last, watching as a mother with near translucent pink skin ushered a smaller carbon copy of herself past the pair of them as quickly as she could. Their clothes were in rags. "The state of things? Population?"

“If it’s a new planet, then that would be a few things we would look into, along with resources and the caliber of fighters if there are any.” Radtiz strode up the street and Nabooru fell into step next to him, observing their surroundings, the people they passed. None seemed all too thrilled to see them and if her lessons taught her anything, they had good reason to treat them with disdain and fear. Nabooru severed the line of thought before it could venture into the next phase, the reminder of what orders they would likely receive concerning this planet’s fate.

“For this one, it’s more confirming what has already been reported over the years. Finding out if there is anything worth salvaging after all,” he continued, slowing at a storefront that reminded her of the inns back in Hyrule. She heard glass breaking, laughter, and shouting from inside in a language she shouldn’t understand. “Looks like the only places that do remotely well here are bars and brothels after all.”

Nabooru peered into the window, wiping a layer of dust from the glass with her sleeve. Sure enough, the place was packed with all manner of patrons crammed along the bar, packed around tables, or fighting for a better view of the group dancing on stage. She stepped back and dusted her forearm off. “I guess when there’s nothing else to live for, it’s easier to drown yourself in...do they call it liquor here?” Raditz nodded confirmation and moved on, muttering notes of the city’s state into his scouter. She followed and waited for him to finish before continuing. “The briefing suggested most have just resorted to stealing and other ‘crime,’ too, if they’re not working the mines or at other camps. Guess they feel they have no choice if they want to survive here.”

A sentiment she was all too familiar with. When faced with starvation and death, her own people had to shift their skills as warriors to include thievery. They raided caravans that crossed into their lands from further west. They stole from the other races of Hyrule when they got desperate enough. When pointed out in talks with the monarchy, when the fingers were pointed at them for being no more than killers and thieves, she and other leaders of her race tried to show that their pleas for fertile land for farming and the like as well as less restrictive trade would make the need to steal unneeded for their survival. They either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

And for that she had no doubt they paid the price. She only wished she could have been there. To be a part of that revolution. Part of her still hated that her people had been backed so far into a corner so as to rely on an outside source for aid as well as violence but...it was kill or be killed. What choice had they left them after years of failed negotiations?

Had these people tried to rebel like the Gerudo did?

Nabooru swallowed the lump in her throat, the all too familiar homesickness settling in her chest as it did when she dwelled too long on her home and people. She focused instead on the task at hand, on learning the ropes for this particular part of her job.

Without much to look at, they scoured a few more streets and discussed points of interests. They caught a Frieza Force soldier stumbling out of a bar and questioned him before deciding to move on to the next location, another city in much the same state as the first. Raditz “let” her take over with recording the notes they would send back to Vegeta and the commanders back at base for review in determining the next steps they would take with the planet. Their conversation revolved around the task at hand, with Raditz offering pointers or corrections for ensuring a full report.

For this particular excursion, each one felt repetitive. Even the work camps offered little more information. Locals worked under the supervision of Frieza Force soldiers. She didn’t need the foremen to tell her that the resources at each one were all but tapped. One said they hadn’t actually mined anything for months but they kept the workers busy to give them purpose.

With their logs sent to the appropriate personnel, Nabooru returned to the other two Saiyans with Raditz. Nappa leaned against his pod, eyelids heavy and looking half asleep. Vegeta remained on the same boulder, head tilted to the side and a hand on his scouter, likely listening to their report. He spared them both a glance, but his gaze remained fixed on her for a few moments longer, scrutinizing as he listened to her voice in his ear. Her eye caught his tail swaying behind him in idle arcs, but it told her as little as his blank expression. She inwardly snorted at the passing thought that he must be great at cards.

Nappa yawned and stretched, calling her attention instead over to him. "How boring was it? The place as desolate as it looks?"

Raditz nodded. "A waste of time. They had all the information they needed already to make a decision." He shrugged. "Hopefully that means we get to the fun part sooner rather than later."

"Yeah. It's too bad their military was already absorbed into the force, and all the rebellions were taken care of years ago. I don't suppose you heard any word of one faction ready to change things, did you?"

"No. After the last one, sounds like they learned their lesson."

Nabooru rested her back against a nearby tree, crossing her legs at the ankle and folding her arms over her chest. She noted the disappointment in both males, the sag of their shoulders, Nappa's dejected grumbling under his breath. At first, their disappointment confused her when both seemed to like when their job was easy, clean, and quick. However, further consideration convinced her otherwise. They had pointed out the pointlessness of the recon on this planet, Raditz was more than ready to pawn the boring duties off on her, and now they would prefer someone to challenge them on whatever order they were given concerning the planet's fate. They wanted a quick response to quickly stave off boredom, not for ease. They preferred a fight over the simple monotony when presented little to no challenge on jobs. A sentiment she could understand, even though, with action looming, her nerves over the likely course had her nerves wound in tight knots. She instead tried to focus on the Saiyans, how she would compromise with her moral compass to do what she had to.

"Can't be helped, I guess," Nappa continued, turning his attention on Nabooru. "Gotta break in the rookies somehow, huh? Though I'm sure you're gunning for some real action yourself, right?"

She nodded. "Of course." Not a complete lie; idleness didn't suit her. "It was interesting to see the planet. Being desolate aside, it's far different than what I was used to back home. Though I'm sure most sights I see from here on out will be."

Nappa grinned, apparently perked up from his near slumber not moments ago. "That's the spirit." He turned to Raditz. "We should celebrate while we wait for orders. You see any good spots for a drink or two?"

"That's about all that's left on this rock. Can't speak for the quality of them, though. Might be able to get into a brawl or two."

"Eh, good enough," said Nappa. "What do ya think, Vegeta? We got time for a drink?"

"Is that all you idiots think about? Booze and sex?" the prince growled. He hopped down from his perch, arms folded over his chest. "What is there to celebrate, anyway? She gathered intel, nothing impressive. Raditz can do that, after all."

She kept her comments to herself, the insult obvious but the truth in his words irrefutable. Outside of the month of lessons to teach her the ins and outs of the trade, training to control her ki better, and the spar with Vegeta, she hadn't really accomplished much to prove herself. The recon, while tedious, wasn't exactly all that difficult here. She could see how it would be more time consuming and complicated on other planets that had yet to feel the sting of the PTO or some other foul entity, and therefore found the snub to Raditz more unfair than the one directed at her.

"Fine. Is giving us something better than standing around like idiots a better excuse?"

"Barely." Vegeta waved a gloved hand, dismissing them. "Do what you want. But I expect the three of you back here as soon as I call. And you had best not be wasted. We still have work to do."

"You're not coming?" The question passed her lips before she could stop it, and the derisive snort he responded with before turning his back and heading to his abandoned pod only reinforced how idiotic the question was. Her cheeks burned, but she covered her embarrassment with her usual aloof confidence. "Mm, nevermind. Your loss, though."

If his response was nonverbal, Nappa's large hand slamming down on her shoulder made her miss it. Her knees buckled slightly under the force. "A hell of a fighter and fun. We really did luck out."

Raditz's boots had already left the vegetation-bare ground beneath them. The smirk he wore revealed he was either unbothered by Vegeta's previous insult or used to them. "I'll judge that when we find out if she can hold her liquor." Energy surrounded him and he took off, Nappa following his lead. Nabooru lingered a moment longer, sparing a glance to their leader, before tailing after her new cohorts.

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

Raditz had chosen the least rundown of the bars they saw within the cities they scouted and somehow the quietest despite that. A few patrons lined the bar at the back, and a couple of tables were full of a rainbow of locals sharing drinks and conversing in low tones. She recalled a passersby earlier that day telling their buddy they should skip this one due to the price of drinks, so she supposed that's what kept the ailing citizens of the planet from packing the place.

The three of them marched up to the bar, anyone within their path ducking out of it quickly. Raditz waved down the bartender who rushed over to them, leaving his current patron mid sentence and perturbed. "Ah, more soldiers and my favorite customers. You three must be new. What can I get you?"

"Whatever your strongest stuff is. One for each of us." Raditz nodded to a booth in the corner just off the bar. "Bring them over there when they're ready."

"Right away, sir."

The bartender hurried back the way he came and Nabooru followed the pair of Saiyans to the booth. She grabbed a chair from a table on the way, placing it at the end and seating herself in it. For comfort. Both men were quite large, and she wanted to ensure they would have room to stretch out as they pleased while also saving her the inconvenience of being crushed by pure muscle.

"So, you two do this sort of thing often, huh?"

"When we can," Raditz answered. "We don't usually get downtime like this."

"Yeah, Vegeta is just being dramatic," continued Nappa, plucking a menu of the drink options from a stanchion at the table's center. Nabooru noted several red SOLD OUT stickers next to many. "Most of the time, we don't do recon like this. We're usually sent straight to planets for purging or putting down this rebellion or that. If we need to scout, it's more to understand the situation for battle than to help the big wigs tell us what to do with a planet like this job."

"Then it's back to base or off to the next planet, depending on orders. They tend to keep us busy."

Nabooru couldn't decide if she was happy about that or not. "That sounds a whole lot better than doing this every time. I'm not exactly the patient type. I like to keep busy." She folded her arms on the tabletop. "Are rebellions common on planets the Empire has conquered?"

"They're probably more common than we know, but most are settled by the soldiers stationed on the planet already," Raditz explained. "We get called in when they get too out of hand."

As much faith as she had in her people, she hoped Ganondorf's ambitious nature didn't convince him to seek out trying to take on Frieza and his armies. He had Hyrule like he wanted, conquered and taught a lesson for their mistreatment of their people. She hoped that was plenty for him until they could for certain break from the Empire. In truth, she would prefer to get away sooner rather than later. But Frieza's power was astronomical, and who knew how many of his lackeys could wipe the floor with even their entire army, ki training or no. Zarbon and Dodoria alone nearly doubled her power level, after all.

A nod. "That sounds more fun than this," she admitted. "Closer to what I spent my life training for."

The bartender arrived with three glasses of clear, carbonated liquid and set each glass in front of them. "I apologize up front for not having the usual fare we offer force soldiers. Shipments of imports have been scarce of late. But I assure you this is the finest beverage we offer at the moment."

He bowed his head for returning to his post, Nabooru lifted her glass and observed the contents. The Saiyans lifted their glasses and nodded for her to do the same. "To your first likely successful mission," Nappa announced with a grin, "and to many more that are hopefully more fun than this mudball."

Nabooru snorted and tapped her glass with theirs, the harsh volume of the clink leaving her surprised that each vessel remained intact. She watched both men take a large gulp of the liquid and their expressions slip from joyous to befuddled. They lowered their drinks and stared into the cups. Raditz even gave his a sniff.

"This is water." Raditz took another swig. "Are you telling me these people get wasted off water?"

"Seriously?" Nabooru tipped the glass and took a sip. Sure enough, she tasted normal water, the fizz the only thing setting it apart. She glanced from one bewildered Saiyan to the other, and her frame shook with her laughter. She rested a hand over her mouth. "I guess Vegeta doesn't have to worry about us coming back drunk after all, huh?"

Nappa and Raditz stared at her for several seconds before finally finding the humor in the situation themselves, both managing to chuckle. Nappa gulped down the rest of his water and wiped his mouth with his forearm. "Shoulda known when he said he couldn't get us the shit the other soldiers prefer. Guess it could have been worse…"

"Like bad tasting."

"Or poisonous."

Nabooru opened her mouth to supply her own horrific possibility when each of their scouters sounded a series of beeps before Vegeta spoke in their ears: "To no one's surprise, we're purging the planet so it can be sold. Nappa and Raditz, take care of the area you're in and finish off the rest of the southern hemisphere. Nabooru, meet me back at the pods immediately. Don't make me wait."

The connection dropped as suddenly as it opened, allowing none of them to respond even if they wanted to. Dread sank to the pit of her stomach, and she tried to pretend the rest of the patrons of the bar didn't exist. That the mother and daughter that scurried by them had been her imagination. That the workers and vendors and rough housing drunkards were no more than her mind making up a story for the desolate planet. For now, it was the only way she would complete the task at hand without a physical or moral interjection.

Standing, Nabooru drained her glass of water, wishing it had the same effect as it did on the locals. "Guess I should get going. I'm already on his bad side." She tried to flash the pair a cheeky grin but the muscles of her mouth fought against it. She just hoped they read it as dread over dealing with Vegeta once more. "I'll see you guys soon."

Nappa and Raditz wished her luck, and part of her envied the excitement that radiated between the two of them. It beat the nausea and guilt that frothed in her stomach and weighed heavy on her heart, respectively. But she had a job to do. Purging planets, subjugating their peoples, expanding an empire, and filling its coffers was expected of her. Duty had a new meaning for her. To protect her people, she would have to destroy others. Nothing new in the grand scheme of things when war with the rest of Hyrule knocked on their door before Frieza discovered them; much of her life had been kill or be killed in some regards. Only now she had less wiggle room to avoid it.

She slipped out the door and onto the city's streets, taking a moment to marvel at the architecture. The tall buildings unlike she had ever seen before, plainer than Hyrule Castle but taller and still majestic somehow. Someone's hard work to be destroyed in moments by powerful ki blasts large enough to level the cities. She shoved the thoughts away and took to the sky, jetting back toward where they had left their pods and Vegeta behind.

Nabooru landed near the Saiyan prince just as the ground beneath her quaked and an explosion sounded from the way she had come. She glanced over her shoulder to see a surge of light encompass a large swath of land and debris shooting skyward in catastrophic destruction. The city she had just left wiped off the face of the planet, likely. She swallowed and returned her attention to Vegeta. The task at hand. Reminding herself that her people's lives depended on her compliance. She worked for an emperor that killed for less than failure she had come to understand.

Vegeta faced her, his feet leaving the surface. "Let's go."

She was grateful he didn't leave her any room to protest before taking off, and she followed behind him, silently working to clear her head. The next city rose on the horizon too quickly, a blessing and a curse. She wanted to get this over with, but she truly did not want to do it at all.

Nabooru halted beside Vegeta when he stopped, several meters above and outside the crumbling city. The planet was falling apart. She witnessed that. The people here had been suffering for years due to her employer's greed and negligence. A small comfort, but she supposed death meant an end to it. A conclusion she didn't care for, but a call she had no say in making.

"Well?" Her eyes shot to the Saiyan. His arms were folded over his chest, and he observed her with obvious impatience. "What are you waiting for? Or do you need a demonstration?"

"Surely you're itching for a little action by now," she responded, a touch too quickly that earned her a snort. She mentally cursed herself. "You can take the first one."

"Hmpt. You're stalling." He let one arm fall back to his side and raised the other, open palm aimed toward the city below. A smirk flickered over his lips, devilish and taunting. "I wonder...is it because of some silly morals or you simply don't wish to embarrass yourself so soon?"

Both, she wanted to respond, but red ki building in his palm stopped her. He fired the blast straight for the heart of the city. It exploded like a bomb on contact, the force of it spreading outward and engulfing the area in blinding light. Nabooru shielded her face from both the flare and flying debris with her arm and chewed her lower lip. When she lowered it again, a crater had replaced the city.

"Check for survivors."

She balled her hand into a fist to steady it before raising it to her scouter. She pressed the button. Not a single reading for several miles. She felt his gaze on her once more, gauging her reaction. Searching for weakness like a predator waiting to strike. Another reason to see a failure rather than an asset to his team.

"No survivors," she said, the words heavy on her tongue. "Guess you've had plenty of practice, hm?"

Dark eyes narrowed briefly, and the end of his tail tucked itself more securely at his waist. "A little," he replied without humor. "You'll take care of the rest now that you've had your demonstration."

She nodded and followed the scouter's reading to the next city, halting outside of it just as they had done before. Her palms were sweaty inside her gloves and her heart thrummed at a too quick pace. Despite it all, she forced her face into a mask of neutrality, her mind to a blank slate of nothing more than determining how much energy he would need to complete the task in one blow to avoid extra strain on her already fraying psyche. She sucked in a breath and raised both hands. The glow of orange-yellow ki surged around her palms. She fired. It swallowed the edifices in seconds as she expanded it outward to cover a wider area. When she cut the blast off and lowered her hands, nothing remained but desolation. She swallowed the hot bile that rose to her throat.

"Not bad," Vegeta rumbled beside her, hand raised to the side of his scouter. "You wasted energy, though, a testament to Nappa's careless training. He's too flashy for his own good."

Her mouth was too dry to respond, so she merely nodded. Her fingers itched to wind themselves in her ponytail and she wanted to scream or vomit or both but she quelled the urge; the less discomfort she showed outwardly, the better.

"He said you learn quickly, though, so I'll show you once more and you can do as I do." He tilted his head toward the next destination, one of the work camps if she remembered right. "Go."

Nabooru didn't hesitate, the need to leave the destruction behind nearing overwhelming. She blinked rapidly to stave off tears and was glad Vegeta remained behind her. How she would spend likely the rest of her life perpetrating these atrocities without losing herself was beyond her in that moment. She would lose her mind if she didn't figure something out and soon. In a moment, her kill count had risen from a select handful that had forced her hand to hundreds of innocents. Thousands more would follow so long as she remained in Frieza's service. Her people's livelihood was at stake. Her every decision as a member of the force would secure their safety or destroy it entirely. Which brought to question the moral dilemma at hand: did others deserve to perish so her people could live? She could only weakly defend herself with the notion that, if not by her hand, some other would be doing so in her place. Another with a similar background to hers, forced to serve to protect loved ones. Someone who joined Frieza willingly and reveled in the bloodshed. Another who had lost their home and had no other choice. The cycle would continue as long as the Cold Empire and PTO remained intact.

And what hope did she have to dismantle that on her own? Hyrule had been one society on a single planet and she couldn't handle that with the Gerudo army and without outside help in the end. She had no prayer in releasing herself from the clutches of this deal by force. Not alone. Not without allies.

But….somehow, she knew all the allies in the universe might not be enough to face Frieza. She would fail just like all the rest before her. Thus, for now, she would throw her morality out the window. She would pretend that those she destroyed were guilty of something heinous and horrible. Cling to a sense of duty to the empire that freed her people. Anything at all to keep herself from crumbling from the inside out.

#fic: recruited #:: nabooru ☀#// vegeta ♅#| nappa ♅#yeee i did it #making progress #horrible torurous progress for nabs #but you know #maybe the baes with have a moment soon ;3

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good-things-do-happen-dean · 4 years

Text

well friends!!! it’s done and it took way to freakin long since i’m posting with literally less than 2 hours until the deadline but!! please enjoy my @scruffypendragon-fest submission!

also available on ao3

each nearly, each almost

It had, Merlin realized as he gazed down at Arthur still sleeping peacefully, been several days since Arthur had requested a shave. Arthur typically asked every other day or so, and Merlin always took great pride in the act itself, carefully sharpening the small blade and working the shaving soap he made by hand into a thick lather. Thus, it was a rare occurrence for Merlin to see Arthur with any sort of stubble. He had, of course, seen it before, on longer patrols where conditions simply were not conducive to shaving. But they were not on patrol now and the sight of Arthur’s almost-beard darkening his cheeks against the rich brocade of his pillow was rather different from that same stubble against the rough cloth of his bedroll. On patrol, the shadow on Arthur’s jaw could be mistaken for dirt or general unwashed grime. Here, it made Arthur look older, more mature. Merlin rather liked it.

At some point, Arthur’s eyes had drifted open, though Merlin didn’t notice at first, just followed the curve of Arthur’s jaw up to where his hair was just beginning to curl gently under his ears. “Merlin,” Arthur said, startling Merlin so badly he stumbled backwards, tripped over his own feet, and only just managed to right himself by grabbing wildly at the bedpost. Arthur laughed, still soft around the edges from sleep. “Never a dull morning.”

Merlin untangled himself from the curtain and offered Arthur a half-apologetic grin. “Breakfast?” he asked.

Mornings like this were his favorite: mornings when the sun shone and lit up Arthur’s face, crowning him with golden light, and Arthur smiled softly at him. They had been few and far between these last months as Arthur adjusted to his role as regent, even though he never called it that, and acclimated Agravaine to court, all while grappling with Morgana’s betrayal. Arthur woke most days with a short temper, often swiping dried tears from his cheeks, sometimes ignoring Merlin entirely, other times lashing out at every little thing. But there were still some shining mornings, like this one, when Arthur woke well-rested and carefree and Merlin’s heart soared.

Arthur rolled out of bed and stretched, groaning appreciatively when his neck cracked. Merlin busied himself with the bedclothes as Arthur tucked into breakfast, enjoying the warm comfortable silence that stretched between them.

“Merlin,” Arthur said after a moment.

“Hm?” Merlin hummed, smoothing the corners of the coverlet.

“Do you always watch me sleep or is there something special about today?”

Merlin dropped the pillow he had just picked up to plump. “Ah - what do you mean?” he asked, fumbling to retrieve the pillow and dropping it once more.

Arthur raised his eyebrow at Merlin, eyes alight with mischief, teasing.

“Drool,” Merlin said, turning away so Arthur would not see his blush.

“Drool?” Arthur repeated, affronted.

“All over your face, sire. I thought your dogs must have gotten in during the night.”

“Merlin, I do not drool,” Arthur said from much closer than Merlin expected and, without any further ado, put him in a headlock.

They struggled for a moment, Merlin grappling for purchase on Arthur’s bare skin, Arthur holding Merlin in place with one strong arm as he ground his knuckles into Merlin’s skull, before Merlin managed to twist them around and fling himself backward, knocking Arthur onto the bed. But that did not quite work as anticipated because Merlin was laughing now, which allowed Arthur to wriggle out from underneath him and do some sort of complicated roll before tackling Merlin and pinning his arms above his head. “I do not drool,” Arthur said, a broad grin spreading across his face at his victory.

“All right, all right!” Merlin laughed, trying to twist away from the hand hovering over his side, poised to tickle him, gods above. “I surrender, you don’t drool, now let me up!” He tried to look cross, but found he could only beam up at Arthur, haloed in golden morning light. His gaze slid over Arthur’s face, trying to capture every detail of this shining moment, the scruff on Arthur’s jaw catching his eye again.

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes. “I have half a mind not to.”

But he released Merlin’s wrists anyway and climbed off gracefully. Merlin, on the other hand, somehow got his foot tangled in the bedclothes, tripped, and undid all his efforts to make the bed in the process. He sighed, beginning again, and they slipped back into that warm, comfortable silence.

“What were you really staring at then, Merlin?” Arthur asked, spearing a sausage with his fork and jabbing it in Merlin’s direction. “We both know it was not drool.”

Finally satisfied with the state of the bed, Merlin crossed to the wardrobe. There was training later, but first there was a council meeting and they were expecting that visiting noble, what was his name?

“Merlin.”

“Yes, sire?” Merlin asked, rifling through the wardrobe before pulling out a loose white tunic that would look rather fetching with the shadow of stubble on Arthur’s jaw. He blushed, glad to be facing away from Arthur. What had gotten into him this morning?

“Are you listening to me?”

“Are you saying anything important?” Merlin decided against the white tunic, choosing a Pendragon red one instead. It would look just as fetching, but, to be fair, they all would. He hung the tunic and a pair of black breeches behind the dressing screen.

“Merlin.”

But Arthur was smiling when Merlin chanced a glance over his shoulder, so Merlin pulled a face at him, even though his own smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I was - well, I realized you nearly have a beard.” Merlin ducked his head as he retrieved a pair of socks. If that meant Arthur couldn’t see the blush that once again reddened his cheeks and was now spreading to the tips of his ears, well. He was only doing his job.

Arthur was quiet for a moment, though, so Merlin looked back at him to see Arthur running a thoughtful hand over his jaw. There, framed in golden sunlight sat a king. Even bare-chested with hair still mussed from sleep and a smear of grease at the corner of his mouth, there sat a king. Merlin swallowed.

“You’re right, Merlin, it’s been far too long. Fetch the shaving blade, would you?”

“Oh,” Merlin said before he could stop himself. He realized too late he sounded disappointed.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“I -” Merlin’s face flushed redder and he turned to rummage in the cupboard. “It looks - It doesn’t look bad, sire - ah, that is to say…” But Merlin wasn’t quite sure what it was he meant to say other than you look even more handsome than usual, please don’t make me shave it off, and it just wouldn’t do to say that.

The bright sound of Arthur’s laugh echoed through the room and for a moment Merlin thought he might have said his thoughts aloud. “Thank you, Merlin. I’ll be sure to tell Sir Caradoc I didn’t shave before his arrival because you think my beard doesn’t look ‘bad.’”

Well. Merlin didn’t have anything to say to that, so he just pulled a face at Arthur, noting that the visiting noble’s name was Sir Caradoc as he collected the shaving supplies in the metal wash basin. He would make new soaps soon, he decided, turning the small lump of shaving soap over in his hand. The basin clinked against the table as Merlin settled in. He busied himself with the smooth back and forth of the blade over the strop, listening to the gentle rasping sound.

Merlin ran the pad of his finger over the edge of the blade and returned to sharpening three times before he was satisfied. He grabbed the pitcher and had started filling the wash basin when he looked up to see Arthur looking at him with a strange expression on his face. Well, not strange exactly, but unexpectedly gentle, fond.

There was something different about this morning, and it wasn’t just the shadow on Arthur’s jaw. There was something different about the way Merlin looked at Arthur, the way Arthur looked at Merlin. There was something different about Arthur’s teasing and Merlin’s teasing right back. There was something different about the familiar space between them at Arthur’s familiar table in Arthur’s familiar chambers. Or perhaps there wasn’t anything different at all. Not dramatically. Perhaps things had been changing gradually for months and Merlin had only just noticed.

Because there had been moments before, of course, moments where Merlin had nearly, or Arthur had seemed to, or they both had almost. But each moment, each nearly, each almost had chipped away at something larger. No, not chipped away, smoothed, like a river rounding the stones in its current.

The moment when Merlin cradled Arthur’s chin in one hand to rub the lather onto his skin had happened countless times before, but it had never felt so intimate. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at Arthur, looking right back up at him with the ghost of that fond smile. His gaze flicked to Arthur’s mouth.

And Arthur surged up to meet him.

Merlin was stunned at first and it was an awkward angle, but it was still a long moment before he pulled away, laughing breathlessly. “You got soap in my mouth.”

Arthur somehow managed to look affronted and bashful at the same time as he blushed. “Well. You.” But he trailed away when Merlin lifted a hand to wipe the lather from Arthur's cheek and left it there.

It took a long time to finish shaving Arthur. “You’re very distracting, Arthur,” Merlin said after the fifth? sixth? (Merlin lost track of the number as he tried to focus on not nicking Arthur with the blade) time Arthur tugged at his neckerchief to kiss him again. “Do you want me to finish or not?”

“Not.” Arthur replied, pulling him in again. Merlin smiled into Arthur’s mouth at that, but leaned into the kiss anyway.

“I suppose half-shaved will have to do, then.” Merlin dropped the shaving blade into the wash basin with a clatter and hopped onto the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow at Arthur.

Arthur swallowed, looking rather disheveled with his hair mussed from Merlin curling one hand into it to bring them closer and lather still smeared on one cheek. “For now,” he said, scrubbing the soap from his face with one hand. He stood and settled between Merlin’s legs and a different kind of warm, comfortable silence stretched between them again.

Later, they laid curled together in the bed Merlin would have to make yet again. When Merlin pointed this out as petulantly as he could as he tried to suppress a grin, Arthur laughed and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s sweaty brow. Merlin burrowed further into Arthur’s neck, Arthur’s hair tickling his nose.

“You know, Merlin,” he said, raising himself up on one elbow and looking at him seriously. “I think I could do with a haircut.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely not,” he said and tangled his fingers in Arthur’s hair to bring them together once more.

#scruffypendragonfest #this is....different than what i set out to write but i'm still pleased!!#love arthur getting all blushy and soft after kissing merlin :')#mine.fic #merlin #merthur

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cryoculus · 4 years

Note

More love for Semi please? Anything will do, your writing is exquisite in any form anyway :D

» Word Count: 1,857 wordsCross-posted on AO3

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE :(( I actually wrote three chapters’ worth of content for him already and you can read the whole thing on the ao3 link.(NOTE: This is based on the current events of the final arc of the Haikyuu manga. I tagged it as a spoiler but I won’t really go into the specifics of what’s going on. Semi is our main focus here ^__^)

—

“Please?”

“No,” was your flat reply.

Semi heaved a long sigh, mouth twitching into an irritated grimace. You returned his reaction with a sassy look of your own—one, finely penciled brow quirked as bright, red lips rivalled the adamance that Semi brought about. While you were in no position to tell him to just go back to his cubicle and get today’s work done (you, sadly, held the same position in office), you at least had the right to turn him down. Your department had a monthly financial report coming up. Why on Earth did he want your help writing a song?

“Come on,” he groaned. “You know I’d eat my fist first before asking for your help, but our manager really digs your old pieces from college.”

Your eye twitched.

“Way to beg for someone’s aid in a time of dire need,” you bit back sarcastically. “Go do it then.”

“What?”

“Eat your whole fist.” You gave him a pointed look, even making a show of paying attention by putting your pen down.

Your co-worker let out a frustrated groan, fingers carding through his messy, ashen hair. The gesture made the tattoos on his chest visible for a second, before disappearing again behind his barely done button-up. It was a mystery, how a man like him made it as a public servant—with his flamboyant piercings and tip-dyed hair—but you supposed you should learn to look past physical appearances. The agency allowed it, so why should you make a fuss?

Ah, right. Semi Eita was the most hot-headed man in your department, and he had a knack for picking fights with you.

“If you get the balance sheet done by five o'clock, I might reconsider,” you told him, not really meaning the words, as you directed your attention back at the paperwork on your desk. Balance sheets are the toughest to fill out, since the data needed had to be collated from different sectors of the city. You highly doubted that Semi, with his thinner-than-a-strand-of-hair patience, could finish it in one sitting.

“Deal.”

Your gaze hardened as you looked back up at him. “Come again?”

“Are you deaf?” he asked, folding lean arms across his chest. “I said it’s a deal.”

You couldn’t help the snort that made its way past your lips. Whatever his reasons may be, it was painfully obvious that he was desperate. But still. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry out the deed in your given deadline, but instead of talking him out of his own agreement, you merely shook your head in acceptance.

Semi eventually stalked off to his cubicle; the one just in front of yours. There was a divider that separated each employee’s workspace from the others, and it at least granted some semblance of privacy from outside gazes. You’ve been to Semi’s cubicle a couple of times—more to coordinate paperwork than engage in conversation, really—and he decorated his personal space exactly how a part-time rock band vocalist would. Though he didn’t exactly put up posters and painted the walls black, he added his own flair to his desk with guitar figurines, neon stickers on his desktop, and a photo of his bandmates enclosed in a sparkly picture frame.

The only reason you bothered looking so closely was the fact that you also went to the same university together (under the same degree, too!) You’ve always been keen around him, with his loud way of living, as opposed to you, who’s always chosen to live simply and without pretentiousness. Sure, the disparity between your lifestyles had caused you to be at each other’s throats since freshman year, but it was still a surprise that your synergy was top notch. You would, as Semi put it so delicately, eat your fist first before admitting to the fact, but it’s a given that you preferred to work with him instead of other, unfamiliar people.

You sighed, brandishing a bored look at the bleak document in front of you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to help him out…

But when you recalled every time he’s talked over you during board meetings, sneered at you when he got a higher score during exams, and his distateful behavior in general, you steeled your resolve.

Either he’s going to get that balance sheet over with or he’ll keel over. If he wanted your help, he’s going to have to work for it.

—

You were in the middle of fixing your belongings when the sound of a stack of papers hitting your desk rang in your ears.

“There,” Semi said breathlessly, making you look up at him in surprise. He even tossed a flash drive on top of the papers he deposited, where you saw the city hall’s heading printed in full color. You reluctantly checked your phone for the time. 16:57, it said, in a mockingly bold typeface before shoving it in your pocket.

The damn guy really did get it done before five.

“The electronic document is saved in there, in case you lose the print.” He was panting at this point, and you had a vague idea as to why he looked like he just ran a marathon. The one printer in your department (this year’s budget was cut) broke down a few days ago, and the nearest functional one was at the Logistics office three floors down.

Still refusing to believe it, you peered at the documents he just brought in. You scanned each of the entries printed on each page. That’s when you realized that Sendai City’s expenses have skyrocketed since the new year because the list of expenses occupied a whole page alone. A worried sigh made its way past your lips, but at least the liabilities were cut down to a minimum. You heard that the governor of Miyagi was going to pledge a few hundred thousand yen for the city’s founding anniversary, too.

You paused. Blinking, you rearranged the papers neatly back into its pile—biting back the urge to clutch your wounded pride. Semi was looking at you expectantly, like he wanted you to praise his flawless bookkeeping.

In actuality, his determination was beginning to freak you out.

“Why do you want me to help you so badly?” you asked, voice almost trembling. “Seriously, dude. I thought we hated each other. Quit acting out of character.”

“I told you, our manager really liked the songs you composed back in senior year,” he drawled, tired of having to repeat himself.

Your face twisted in confusion. “Who even is this manager of yours?”

There was a half-second delay in his response, but before you could paint a reason for his hesitation, he immediately replied with, “Saito. Saito Makoto.”

You stiffened, gaze going rigid at the mention of that name. “Oh.”

“Yeah. If I manage to give him a piece by the end of the month, he’ll help us sign a contract with a big-shot record label,” Semi explained, oblivious to your discomfort.

“But haven’t you been writing songs since high school?” you wondered aloud. “That’s what you said during our Pol-Gov class ice breaker.”

He frowned. “You still remember that?”

Okay. You kept forgetting that your sharp memory wasn’t always a praiseworthy thing. You gulped, feeling the heat creep up your face. “Um, anyway, the point still stands. You’ve been writing songs for God-knows-how-long, and while I’m not one to dish out compliments especially to you, I’m pretty sure they’re okay if you managed to gather a decent fanbase.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the divider of your cubicle. “We’re a rock band. I write rock songs, but Saito wants me to write a goddamn love song.”

Typical Saito. Though he looked like a rugged high school delinquent, he was awfully sentimental when it came to music. He was the one who inspired you to write the songs Semi was pestering you about all day after all…

“Fine,” you relented. “I never go back on my word and since you did a…good job with this, I’ll help you out.”

His light brown eyes lit up for a moment, but Semi managed to mask his relief in a split second—containing his excitement in a single nod. “Are you free this Saturday? You can come by my place and we could start getting to work.”

Well, that was forward of him. You expected to work on the song in a coffee shop or something, but he went on ahead and invited you to his own humble abode anyway. You parsed through your weekend plans in your mind, and once you confirmed that you were free, you scribbled down your phone number on a sticky note. Almost five years of acquaintance and you’d never bothered giving it to him. Huh.

“Just text me the time and place,” you told him, pocketing the flash drive as you slipped the balance sheet in one of the empty folders in your organizer. “You better not pull anything funny and lead me to a secluded alley or something.”

Semi scoffed, folding the piece of paper and sticking it inside his trousers. “As if.”

You then slung your bag across your shoulders, grinning insincerely. “Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

With that, Semi exited your cubicle, leaving you no room to wonder why he didn’t even spare a quick ‘thank you’.

Just as you were smoothing out the creases on your pencil skirt, your phone began buzzing in the pocket of your blazer. Brows raised, you fished it out and unlocked it.

From: Makohey, wanna grab some dinner? its on me :3

Speak of the devil. You swallowed the lump in your throat, fingers shakily managing to type a coherent reply.

To: MakoYeah sure. Where to tho

From: Makocan we get some italian? ik u love the udon place across the street but akane’s having dinner w her friends there

From: Makocant have her seeing us together now do we

The way he put that so casually made your chest constrict with a too-familiar sensation. You heaved a deep breath, pursing your lips into a thin line as you sent a quick “Ok” text to end your conversation. Saito replied with those iffy heart-eyed emojis that he only ever used when he wanted something from you, and you had to compose yourself so you wouldn’t burst into tears right there.

“Oi.”

You almost jumped at the sound of Semi’s voice as he peered inside your cubicle once more. He clutched his suitcase in one hand, eyeing you curiously.

“What do you want?”

“You’re headed uptown, too, right?” he asked, and you nodded reluctantly. “Thought you’d want a lift.”

“Semi, just because I’m helping you achieve your dreams, doesn’t mean you have to be nice to me.” You laughed softly, tension easing from his uncalled for kindness.

He, however, looked unconvinced. “Do you want a ride or not?”

You raised your hands in defeat, managing a genuine smile. “Alright, fine. It’ll be a hellish commute anyway.”

You liked to think that that’s how you started becoming friends with your odd, hot-headed co-worker.

#haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #shiratorizawa #hqscenario #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu spoilers #hq headcanons #hq!! headcanons

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throughthewwods · 3 years

Text

100 Days of Productivity . Day 47

📚 read several articles on trauma assessment

📚 had a helpful meeting with my professor about the disabled persons paper

She gave me some search engine tips and is going to connect me with the writing center given just how much of a gap in the literature there is about my topic.

📚 had an interesting class lecture on the psychology to experiencing and managing pain

In class we read a study about soldiers in the hospital asking for morphine far less than civilians with less severe injuries. ultimately it came down to a difference in perspective about their pain. for the soldiers, the pain meant they were alive and might get to go home whereas the civilians perceived their pain as a disruption to their regular life.

⭐️ got my recertification interview out-of-the-way

Bad news: I’m still poor. Good news: I’m still poor enough to qualify 😆

⭐️ got a hold of my doctor’s office for the dietary restrictions list their app made invisible

⭐️ Day 1 of low FODMAP diet + gluten free and minimal dairy + 2 yogurts a day:

F ermentable. O ligosaccharides. D isaccharides. M onosaccharides. A nd P olyols.

I was feeling pretty cranky yesterday. However, I slept better last night for the first time in weeks with far less gut discomfort. So.. this morning I awake with incentive to stick with it. It’s not like I don’t have options. Unfortunately, a lot of the things I enjoy, generally considered healthy foods, are a no-no with FODMAP. This means I can’t eat most of the groceries I just bought. 😆 I keep reminding myself that it’s a small price to pay to have my body back to normal.

⭐️ moved some more money into savings

Feeling proud of myself.. It’s still years out, but every time I add to my savings buying a house someday becomes that much more real.

🏡

⭐️ dog has been acting like less of a spaz, so, fingers crossed upping the training is working

⭐️ Kiddo has been steadily more enthused about getting A’s on her quizzes, so, fingers crossed the intrinsic motivation is being positively reinforced

Kiddo is beaming with pride that she’s finished her work early. This has been a challenging phase for sure, but has also been an opportunity for me to help her cultivate invaluable executive functioning skills her old elementary wasn’t bothering to: Time management, the ability to focus, some study skills, personal accountability, the value of practice and grit, using tools like alarms and lists to stay on track, learning how to take purposeful breaks to recharge.. Who knows? Maybe in a parallel universe Covid never happened, she would’ve kept going to school as per usual, carefree then shuffled off into middle school oblivious to how in over her head she was until she’s floundering in the shark tank. At that point it would’ve been much more difficult to help her.

Maybe this crazy year for us was actually for the best?

I know the world closing and being home while finishing my degree is definitely why I’ve been able to save up money so effectively. I appreciate RB’s help running to the bank. His protectiveness without being overbearing is adorable.

I am fumbling around the kitchen trying to envision a dinner that does not entail any of the things I always cook with. I am grumblingm reminding myself that I am doing this elimination diet for good, healthy gut reasons and that it’s only for a 2 weeks

then I cringed remembering the last time I told myself something would only be for a couple weeks was when the pandemic started.

I try to embrace this as an opportunity to jump-start losing my Covid pounds not unlike when I caught that month long flu years back that made quitting smoking easier.

I accidentally dumped a blizzard of salt over my eggs and RB sympathetically comes to my rescue. Kiddo gets pizza. I still have not figured out how to follow this plan and feed my child without having to concoct two completely different meals twice a day.

We listen to another chapter of Narnia over dinner. RB is irked by the obscure names that disrupt his loquaciousness. I run my fingers through his thick hair reassuring him that no one minds and very much enjoys his storytelling. His eyes close softly, smiling into the warmth of my shoulder. i’m glad I can be a source of peace for him. it’s a haven I have given to all my lovers, but none appreciated the solace until I was long gone.

#journal #diary #writing #my writing #100 days of productivity #studystudystudy #positivemindset #healing #growth #fodmap #relationship #love #couples goals #family #RBlovestory

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aislinceivun · 4 years

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Man, tumblr decided to fuck up the formatting on the original answer post big time whyy. Anyway, here’s a repost

Hullo! Yesss, absolutely; I don’t plan on sitting on this for eternity xD But due to life-stuff and then COVID-19, I haven’t touched the story since late February, plus my beta couldn’t take on the project in the end, so it kinda went on a hiatus. (Not her fault, and she did an awesome job on the first two chapters, but then the world exploded and... yeah.)

Suddenly struck by a muse, I wrote a 10k NatsuYuu fic last month, and that brought me back into writing mood, so that’s promising. =) Work has piled up, but I’m itching to get back to WWTE. Right now, I’m re-reading it from the start and editing the already existing stuff to the best of my abilities. Then I wanna finish chapter 13 where I’ve left off. That’s pretty much the mid-point of the story, so once that’s done, I’ll feel good about starting to post.

I’m hoping that’s going to happen by early August. That would be the 2nd year anniversary since I (on-and-off) started writing this beast, so it’d be neat =)

tl;dr YES, I absolutely plan on posting to AO3 at some point. I’m so glad you’re looking forward to it! I hope you’ll like it =D

Y’know what, I’m putting another excerpt under the cut because I get overly excited when people ask about this XD. It’s from ch8, after the practical exam:

---

“What about you, All Might?” Recovery Girl says after a while. “You good?”

He’s fatigued, and still struggling with coughs, but that’s nothing unusual—nothing Recovery Girl can help with. The scratches from the debris are going to disappear soon enough. Really, the only thing that might be a bit more lasting is his cheek; that’s definitely going to bruise up from Midoriya’s Quirk-powered punch.

He could let it happen. The bruise would fade in a couple weeks, but until then, everyone would be able to see the undeniable proof of Midoriya getting the upper hand over the number one Hero. Toshinori has no doubts that Midoriya would feel guilty, but surely it would also be an achievement? A source of pride, maybe? And Toshinori wouldn’t mind wearing Midoriya’s mark on his body.

Wait, what?

He freezes, confused and betrayed by his own thoughts.

“M-maybe my cheek, please,” he says once he manages to untwist his tongue. “We don’t need it bruising up.”

#anon #ask answer #/#//#///#dekumight #wwte #it's just past 200k atm btw #already the longest thing i've ever written and there's still so much to go meep

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writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

Bottled Up Feelings (Cheryl/Blu) - Zyan (7/7)

a/n: happy (late) valentines day my dudes! hope you had a good one :) this has been really fun to write. thanks to winter for being my personal cheerleader, and frey for putting up with my non-sense beta-ing this story 💖

i’m planning on re-visiting this verse sometime, so if you liked it you can find me at @chachkisalpaca for future fics :D

Chapter Seven: First Kiss

Cheryl had used her second wish almost by accident. The day of the Valentine’s Day show she went early to the theatre to begin preparing the place for later with the help of some of the staff. Things were going okay; everything was just like it should be — until one of the members of the staff informed her there was a slight problem with the music.

A slight problem as in, one of the speakers being broken and the console having malfunctions.

Cheryl just breathed in and asked if they could fix it in time for the show. They admitted they didn’t know; due to the occasion, the technician was out of town with his wife, and since it happened to be Sunday, it’d have been hard to find another.

She nodded, clenching her jaw, and when she was alone with Blu, the words simply slipped from her lips.

“Ugh, I wish the sound equipment would just fix itself!” She huffed, folding her arms. Blu snapped her fingers and Cheryl almost snapped her neck with the speed she turned to see Blu. Oh no.

Almost immediately she could hear music neatly playing through the theatre, and one of the members of the staff screaming that the console was fine again.

Cheryl wanted to slap herself. She had one wish left, meaning she was closer to losing Blu. The thought haunted her for the entire day, and not even the kids’ chaos could distract her.

The hours had passed in a blur, and before she noticed, she was putting on her costume and doing her makeup, with Blu sitting near her, rambling about the soap opera Cheryl made her watch last night.

“I just don’t get it, Chez, how can Lorena’s dad say she wants her to be happy, but at the same time forbid her from seeing Soledad?” Blu inquired, watching how Cheryl tried to get her eye-liner right.

Cheryl stifled a laugh. She never expected Blu to get so invested in El Bahiano; it did make her happy to share her favourite thing in the world with Blu, though.

“He’s just homophobic, Blu. It’s settled in the 19th century, it kinda makes sense, whether you like it or not.” She shrugged, putting on her lipstick.

Blu pursed her lips and folded her arms.

“I hope they get together tough, Lorena and Soledad make a cute couple, despite knowing each other since like, two months? One month? I’m not sure, the time line confuses me.”

Cheryl snorted, messing up her lipstick a little.

“A month and a couple of days, I think.” Just like us, she thought, correcting the smudged edges.

(If she thought about it, her relationship with Blu greatly resembled the relationship of Lorena and Soledad - both met by accident, lived in a temporary domestic bliss, and one of them had a previous rocky relationship. If they ended up together, living by the sea happily ever after would still be uncertain. But, God, Cheryl wanted that so badly.)

Before Cheryl noticed, she was shooing the parents off the backstage and lining up the kids, encouraging and reminding them to be ready on their cue, just like they always did back at the studio.

She was impatiently waiting for the presenter to finish his speech, biting her nails unconsciously.

“Stop that, you’ll ruin your manicure,” Blu scolded, taking Cheryl’s hands. She’d complain, but Blu’s thumbs rubbing on the back of her hands really soothed her nerves. “It’ll be alright, you got this,” she encouraged with a smile.

Cheryl bit her lower lip. No matter how many times she did this, she always got nervous when she had to go on the stage. Ironically, she loved being the centre of attention.

Her heart gave a jump when the presenter finished and the lights went off. It was the time.

“You’ll be amazing,” Blu said one last time, leaving a kiss on her cheek.

Cheryl hurried to the centre of the stage, standing still en pointe until the spotlight focused on her and she began moving with delicate moves in sync with the music.

The kids began to appear and she felt her chest explode with pride for them. It made her happy to see how well they committed to their characters and moved with elegance — well, as much elegance as they could, being tiny and young.

The story they were trying to tell was clear and concise; Cheryl’s character, the forest spirit, was retiring and needed someone to replace her, and so she searched among the forest creatures for a worthy Heir or Heiress.

All the creatures she met had some kind of flaw, though, like vanity, jealousy, pride, or laziness. She searched and searched, until she found a creature she deemed worthy - a kind, shy, little flower that, throughout the story, fell into the background.

When Cheryl was handing down her flower crown to Amelia, she looked up to the crowd and saw Vivienne staring right at her. She smiled to herself when she noticed she didn’t feel anything while looking at her.

‘I’m someone else’s baby now,’ she thought as the theatre was filled with applause.

Cheryl jumped into Blu’s arms as soon as she was backstage, feeling completely euphoric, the screams of the kids blocked out as Blu lifted her from the ground and spun her around.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” she whispered near her ear as she put her back down. Cheryl’s heart was beating so fast she thought it’d come out of her chest.

She hugged Blu tightly, wanting the moment to last forever, but she had to break the embrace before it became awkward. Besides, she had to get her junior students ready.

The final curtain was closed and Cheryl felt utterly exhausted, but she was happy. Happy and proud of her students.

There were parents already stepping in the backstage to pick up her kids and she couldn’t be bothered about it, taking advantage of the chaos to change her clothes. Blu had said they’d go out to have dinner as a celebration and she was excited for it.

Once she was back in her normal clothes and picking up her things, a lot of parents went up to her to congratulate her for the show, and the little ones hugged her legs and told her how much fun they had.

Cheryl’s heart melted every time. God, she loved them.

She was walking arm in arm with Blu when yet again Cheryl felt someone tug on her coat. She turned around to see Lily and her parents a few steps behind.

“Miss Cheryl, Miss Blu, I came to say goodbye. I had so much fun!” She chirped and Cheryl cooed.

“I’m glad, darling. You were amazing,” she complimented, patting her shoulder. She looked up to see her parents and was surprised to notice Vivienne wasn’t around, though she didn’t think much of it. “Have a lovely night. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

They left the theatre and stopped for a moment to decide where they would have dinner. Blu was trying to convince her to have sushi, when she heard a voice calling her. She sighed nervously as she recognized Vivienne’s voice.

“Hey, Cheryl, can I talk to you? In private,” she said, and Cheryl could already feel this wouldn’t be good.

Still, she ignored Blu’s worried look and told her it’d take a minute, walking a few meters away with Vivienne.

“So, what is it that you need to tell me?” Cheryl began, already having an idea of what Vivienne wanted to talk about.

Vivienne clenched her jaw and stumbled to make a coherent sentence at first.

“I’m sorry I never gave you an answer, I really am. And I know it’s been a long time, but I think I owe you an explanation.” She gave a heavy sigh before continuing. “I’m seeing someone else—”

“Oh, I know,” Cheryl cut her off, leaving Vivienne baffled. “My friend Divina applied at the law firm you work at without knowing about it, and it didn’t take her long to find out and tell me,” she proceeded. Vivienne was silent, her face the embodiment of embarrassment. “I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just wish you’d told me you had feelings for someone else, that’d made things easier.”

Cheryl shrugged and Vivienne sighed.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I guess I was a coward in that way.” You were, Cheryl thought, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Since you stole the words from my mouth, I guess all I have left to say is, no hard feelings?”

Though Cheryl wanted to be petty and turn this into a dramatic moment, she really didn’t have it in her to be a bad person to Vivienne when she truly sounded apologetic. So she smiled softly and nodded.

“No hard feelings.”

“That was very mature of you,” Blu complimented as they made their way to get sushi (in the end, she’d managed to convince Cheryl, despite her wanting to eat something less fancy).

Cheryl hummed, a million thoughts running through her head.

She didn’t know if it was the date, the fact that every two steps they took there was a happy couple, or her talk with Vivienne, but she suddenly felt the need to come clean to Blu about her feelings. Cheryl just had a gut feeling that it was then or never.

So she stopped dead in her tracks, tugging on Blu’s arm so she’d stop too. Blu looked confused for a moment, until Cheryl spoke.

“I— I have something to tell you,” she said with a trembling voice. Blu knitted her brows in a furrow.

“What’s so important that it can’t wait until we get sushi?” She asked, trying to sound funny, but she sounded as nervous as Cheryl. Perhaps she had already guessed what was going on, perhaps not.

Cheryl gulped, fidgeting with her hands.

“It’d be better if we talk about this in a more private place.” Blu cocked a brow, but didn’t say anything, just complied.

They walked a few streets away in complete silence, both clearly nervous, until they got to a street where they were completely alone, and not even a car in sight.

Blu leant against a wall, looking at Cheryl expectantly.

“So, I really don’t know how to say this, I’ve never been good with words, but I’ll try.” She took a deep breath and tried to say the words, but they refused to come out of her mouth. She sighed annoyed. “I can’t say it, I don’t know why, but I really want you to know that you’re special to me in a way I can’t explain, and the sole thought of you being gone forever makes me just so sad it’s unreal, and, and—”

“Baby, breathe,” Blu said, placing her hand on Cheryl’s cheek, rubbing her thumb softly in her skin.

That was enough for the words to spill from Cheryl’s mouth.

“I’m in love with you,” she said softly, with a tenderness that surprised her.

Blu opened her eyes widely, face turning into a tomato in mere seconds. Almost immediately spiraling thoughts began circling Cheryl’s mind; what if Blu didn’t love her back? Had she been wrong by thinking there was a small chance Blu felt something for her?

She was about to backpedal and tell Blu to forget it, when she kissed the tip of her nose.

“I’m in love with you too.”

It took Cheryl a moment to realize what Blu had just said, and without giving it a second thought, she placed her hands on Blu’s shoulders and slowly pulled her into a kiss. Cheryl was surprised at herself by having the courage to do such a thing, but she couldn’t wait a second more. She’d dreamed of kissing Blu more times than she wanted to admit.

Blu answered right back, placing her hands on Cheryl’s waist and pulling her closer. Cheryl’s heart was about to explode with happiness; she’d been so nervous about confessing her feelings to Blu, the fear of rejecting getting the best of her. But it felt so good to know Blu liked her back.

The kiss broke when they both ran out of air, with foreheads touching, they stared into each other’s eyes. Neither knew what to say, but it wasn’t really necessary.

They went to have sushi shortly after in their bubble of happiness and love, giggling and talking in whispers, and Cheryl felt like a teen all over again, with her cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

Everything was perfect, it really was.

When it was time to head home, they held hands as they slowly walked in the streets, talking about everything and nothing and things were fine.

It was when they were entering Cheryl’s apartment building when Blu started to act strange, looking everywhere and squeezing Cheryl’s hand tighter than before. She found it weird, though she didn’t say anything.

They entered their home and Cheryl couldn’t supress a smile at the thought. She turned to see Blu, but her gaze was fixed in the lamp resting on the coffee table.

“I have something else to confess you,” Blu finally said after a moment of silence.

Cheryl nodded, thinking it’d have to do with the fact that she was one wish away from losing Blu.

“What is it, honey?” She asked softly, sitting down on the sofa and watching Blu pace back and forth.

Blu sighed heavily before speaking.

“I should’ve told you, I really should have. But I’ve never expected this to happen, so, um…” She scratched the back of her neck, making a piece of paper appear out of thin air and giving it to her.

Cheryl read carefully each word, and she soon felt tears gathering in her eyes.

“’Your deadline for coming back is Fourteenth of February. Even if you haven’t granted your client their three wishes as it is mandatory, you are expected to come back by midnight. Too much exposure to the human world can cause attachment to it, or your client — which, as you know, is discouraged if one wants to live a peaceful live in eternity.’” Cheryl read out loud, her voice breaking from time to time.

So all this time it didn’t matter that she delayed her wishes - Blu would be gone either way?

“Were you planning on telling me any of this?” Cheryl inquired, sounding more pissed off than she meant.

Blu sat beside her heavily, covering her face with her hands.

“I was, I swear. But it got difficult as time passed and I realized I don’t wanna go, I wanna stay with you,” Blu said, uncovering her face and reaching for Cheryl’s hand and squeezing it.

She squeezed her hand back, but she truly was at a loss of words.

“Is there any way you can stay with me? Maybe if I wish for it?” She wondered, already feeling hopeless.

Blu bit her lower lip, lost in her thoughts for a moment.

“Would you want that, though? Me to stay forever with you? You know I’m immortal, and legally I don’t exist. What will happen the day you get tired of me and I have nowhere else to go?” Blu trembled, and Cheryl clenched her jaw as she wrapped her arms around her.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s possible; there’s no way that I’ll ever get tired of your stories and silly jokes,” she assured her with a soft smile, though there was still doubt in Blu’s expression. “The question here is do you want to leave the genie life to stay with this tired dance teacher? Is that what you want, to live a normal, boring life with me?”

Cheryl pressed her forehead against Blu’s, the room going silent as she thought about it. Cheryl was starting to worry that Blu decided to go back to the lamp when she finally spoke.

“I want that. A normal, boring life, as you say, is better than spending the eternity missing you and thinking what could’ve been if I said yes.” Blu stroked Cheryl’s cheek softly, and her chest exploded with happiness.

“In that case… I wish for infinite wishes,” she breathed out, and Blu snapped her fingers right away. Cheryl looked around. “Did it work?”

Blu shrugged.

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll have to wait ‘til—” She couldn’t finish her sentence when there was a spark coming from her lamp and another letter appeared. “Well, that was fast.”

She picked up the note and proceeded to read it out loud.

“Dear Genie #2256, A.K.A Blu, it has come to our attention that your client has wished for infinite wishes, something not against the rules, but never thought of before. We are sincerely sorry for this accident, and your portal is always open in case you want to pay us a visit. We suggest persuading your client from undoing this wish, but until further notice, we’re already redacting a rule against this, so no other genie is forced to stay in the human world. We hope things go smoothly for you, and your client is a kind one. Best regards, The Council.”

A giggle escaped Cheryl’s lips, if only they knew…

Blu looked at her, wrapping her arms behind her neck.

“I think that means you are truly stuck with me,” she said with a toothy smile.

“I can live with that,” Cheryl replied, pulling her into another kiss.

She didn’t know how they’d make this work, being a human and an immortal being, but they had time to figure things out. Right now, she just wanted to melt into her embrace.

tags: cheryl hole, blu hydrangea, the vivienne, lesbian au, slow burn, genie au

#rpdr fanfiction #blu hydrangea/cheryl hole #blu hydrangea #cheryl hole #the vivienne #zyan #bottled up feelings #lesbian au #genie au #slow burn #be mine 2020 #day 7: kiss #submission

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years

Text

Noir

this power duo is back on track, this time with some murder mystery with a healthy dish of sultry hinny on the side :) AO3 and FFnet versions available!

lots of love and please enjoy,

@gryffindormischief & @fightfortherightsofhouseelves

The post-Christmas season has always felt odd to Harry. It’s not the sudden lack of anything to anticipate, per se. His childhood had hardly been filled with late nights guessing what he had tucked underneath the tree. Unless he wanted to debate which old pair of Dudley’s socks he’d be receiving. All in all, he’d found his little spider mate more entertaining in the dimly lit closet-bedroom.

Once he got his Hogwarts letter and all the Weasleys that entailed, Christmas certainly became a more exciting affair with happier associations - save a few in the middle there, marred by some Voldemort tinged memories.

Regardless, Harry’s not really had the season built up in his mind to be something he should be nostalgic for. Particularly since his and Ginny’s real ‘holiday’ tends to start after everyone else’s. Sure, they both manage free days for the eve, day of, and boxing day, but wizards seem to love testing out dark magic in the dark winter months, and Ginny’s always got some promotion or other.

But January - January’s when he can lie about in his pants from dawn till dusk and no one says ‘boo.’ Ginny sometimes says some variation of ‘take off those shorts, Potter,’ but that’s either because he smells or she’s feeling randy. Either way, over the course of their still young marriage, Harry’s come to love January and everything that comes with it. Particularly the fact that they rarely plan much of anything, except maybe relocating their lazy eat-sleep-don’t sleep routine to a more tropical locale.

This year though, family gets in the way a bit. Not the red haired, magical, crazy type. In fact, it comes in a heavy weight paper, Muggle envelope addressed with an elegant hand to Mr and Mrs H.J. Potter. And since very few people know Harry and Ginny’s address and even fewer would actually use it to send mail, it’s not even necessary to read the embossed sticker on the back.

Huffing, Harry shakes his head. “Classic Big D. Coming in at the worst time.”

Which isn’t to say he hates getting contact from Dudley. Sure, it had been odd, building a semi-friendly relationship with his cousin and former bully. But time and maturity meant Harry had come to learn that apologies from contrite former enemies who’ve mended their ways should generally be accepted. If not for the whole cohesive brotherhood of man bit, at least to cut down on the things that give him heartburn. Besides, he’d seen a lot worse of humanity by the time he was eighteen than Dudley.

And whatever fear of a war he barely understood hadn’t squeezed out of Dudley, marriage and time spent away from Vernon Dursley managed to eradicate. So really, Harry didn’t much mind their occasional chats on Sunday afternoons, the sporadic lunch in Muggle London, or even a double date of dinner and a show.

But today, today he’s ready to toss the damn envelope and invitation in the fireplace. Because it’s the death knell for his staycation second honeymoon, and Ginny’s been taunting him with a tiny little package from that shop in Muggle London that sells even tinier, littler lacy bits.

Still, he doesn’t. And maybe it’s because the mailman gave him a bit of an odd vibe, in a hurry to leave, his jaw set and that rather conspicuous glint in the corner of his eye Harry’d noticed here and there throughout his career. Or maybe it’s that damn voice inside his head reminding him that Dudley’s really trying - in his Dudders-Diddikins way, granted, but still coming from Dudley the gesture’s more than decent.

A long suffering sigh and Harry flicks the envelope on the table next to Ginny, who gives him a cocked eyebrow, to which he responds with a shrug.

“Are we going, then?” She asks as her eyes scan Harry for any signs of hidden displeasure or negative feelings. Ginny’s always been protective of her husband when it came to his side of the family matters.

“Guess so, dunno,” Harry shrugs again, his slippered foot drawing traces on the carpet.

Ginny presses open palms to the table, balancing her way up and around the table to lean on it, her bottom now against the hard wood as her eyes tease and her grin speaks of mischief never quite managed. “Have I ever told you that I’d always imagined the two of us snuggled underneath a soft blanket in a cabin?”

“Uh - you - err, you didn’t?” Harry gulps as she bites her lower lip, that one delicious freckle close to her mouth taunting him as it always does.

“Huh,” Ginny pretends to frown, “It must’ve slipped my mind. Anyway, it’s the two of us, naked, content, snowflakes gathered over glazed windows as the fire burns strongly in the hearth,” she pauses, admiring the result of her work - which is to say a very hot and bothered Harry, smudges of red and pink crawling up his neck and up to the top of his ears.

“But if you don’t really feel like going…” Ginny sighs, adding the cherry on top of her masterpiece, then brushes past him on her way to their bedroom.

“What? I didn’t say that!” Harry panics, the beautifully crafted image of Ginny and him enjoying - well, everything - dissolving like a sad soap bubble in front of his eyes. So being the man of action he’d always been, Harry strides into their room, grabs their suitcases, and magics various articles of clothing inside with a huff and a frown.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asks rather amused.

“Packing. Can’t have old Diddy waiting, he gets an upset stomach when he’s anxious,” Harry shrugs, determined to finish the job he’d begun, and Ginny stiffles a giggle with the back of her palm.

“Right,” she smirks, caresses his arm as she move towards the wardrobe. “Then I’d better pack that little black thing you like so much.”

Harry groans.

Which is how Harry ends up in a rented car, trundling through the Scottish mountains, snow falling softly while Ginny does her best to convince him that he can refrain from murdering Piers for a weekend.

“He’s still a total arsehole,” Harry whines and flicks the windscreen wipers on. He’s not proud but this is seriously salt in a wound, being deprived of his Ginny-only holiday and being forced to associate with Piers the Prick for longer than an evening.

“Don’t be so close minded.”

“First, you asked if you could pants him at Dudley’s birthday party, and second, I am fully aware that people can change and grow,” Harry says, “I am also fully aware that somehow Piers got worse.”

Ginny fiddles with the radio - whoever programmed the shortcuts has terrible taste and loves listening to the most boring talk radio in existence - and sighs with mock easiness. “Well I suppose every time you start to feel your temper, I’ll just have to drag you off and have my way with you in a loo or a coat closet or a - ”

The blinker clicks as Harry turns onto a side road which allegedly leads to the little cabin Dudley’s rented for the weekend. “You’re a damn minx.”

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is relatively short and soon enough they’re greeting Dudley in the cozy front room while the rest of the guests mill about in the den. “We’ve got a fire going already and some mulled wine. Piers and his wife are here, so’s my mate Pamela from uni and her partner.”

Ginny gives Dudley a short hug. “Are we the last to arrive?”

“Nah, we’re still waiting on Jamie and Kendra,” Dudley shrugs, leading them toward the guestrooms, dark wood stairs creaking beneath their feet, “Fran will be glad you’re here, Ginny.”

“How are things at her new station?”

Dudley grins, unable to disguise the pride he has in his wife. “She’s already made assistant producer.”

Harry’s in the middle of congratulating Dudley when the door to their room swings open and he sees it - some sort of white fur rug laid out in front of a roaring fireplace. He can practically taste - well he’s not alone at least, in his train of thought, if Ginny’s slightly dazed expression is an accurate indicator.

Luckily, Dudley seems unaware, pointing out their view and confiding that he’s given them the room with the best facilities. “It’s got a jacuzzi tub.”

Someone, likely Fran, calls for Dudley from downstairs and he excuses himself. “Take your time getting settled, it’s a holiday.”

Once the door clicks shut, Harry drops back on the bed while Ginny unzips her luggage. “I’m not unpacking for you, lazy bones.”

“I’ll unpack myself, if you get my meaning,” Harry says with an exaggerated wink and a slight wiggle of his pelvis.

“Ugh, such a boy .”

Harry hums, “You’re welcome.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes and Harry drifts off into a bit of a twilight sleep while Ginny putters around, claiming the middle drawers for herself (top ones have always been too high and lower ones would mean she’d always have to scoot down to find anything). He wakes when she shoves the last drawer closed and falls onto the bed just at his side to tug on a fresh pair of socks. “Harry, my dear, darling Harry.”

She gets a grunt in response, and is apparently dissatisfied. Though, Harry’s not at all bothered when her method of expressing said dissatisfaction involves throwing a leg over his hips and sitting astride his thighs like he’s her favorite broom. He can’t help but run his palms up over her knees, pressing at her back until she complies with his wordless request and tips forward.

At least, mostly. Because ideally, she’d have pitched forward until their lips met and Harry would currently be turning to mush at the mercy of his wife’s dexterous tongue. But she catches herself on her forearms instead, fiery waves cascading around their faces like sunkissed curtains. “You have got to behave yourself this weekend.”

“I thought you liked my mischievous streak.”

“There’s a drawer full of your mischievous streak in the caretaker’s office at Hogwarts,” Ginny teases. “What I mean is that little black thing you like so much? It’s a reward for good behavior.”

“So I’m just to let whatever happens this weekend happen?”

Rolling her eyes, Ginny lets her lips tease at his jaw, nipping along the scruffy skin with highly distracting skill. “You’re to lie back and let your gallant harpy of a wife fight all your battles,” she lingers at his ear, earning a half sigh half moan, “And we both know you love it when I take charge.”

In a flash, Harry reverses their positions, pressing Ginny onto her back while the bed creaks beneath them, and manages to pin her wrists to the down-filled duvet. “Ditto.”

Later, though sadly not enough later for Harry and Ginny to have tested the jacuzzi tub, the Potters wander downstairs and join the other guests, all now arrived. When Piers catches Harry’s eye and raises his glass in recognition, Harry leans close to Ginny, his lips brushing her hair. “You are a sneaky little thing.”

Her lips tick up at the corners. “A given. Why the sudden revelation?”

“Getting me all hot and bothered talking about shagging in the closets - ”

“What a dirty mouth you have,” Ginny teases, her whisper quiet as she twiddles her fingers in a cheeky wave. Piers looks worried and he should.

“And you thought having your way with me would leave me all relaxed and then you could have all the fun.”

There’s a pause when Dudley’s wife Fran greets them and hands off two freshly poured mugs of mulled wine, but as soon as she goes to mingle with the other guests, Ginny picks up the thread. “I was under the impression the fun was mutual.”

“We both know I mean a completely different kind of fun.”

“If this is how you interrogate suspects, I’m quite shocked at your success rate, Aur - Detective Potter.”

Jamie - Fran’s friend Kendra’s fiance - wanders over, eyes lit with excitement. “Did I hear detective? Kendra and I love procedurals. You’ve got stories, right? Grisly stuff?” he pauses, fiddling with the clasp on his watch, “Sorry, I get excitable after a few drinks. Kendra’s my impulse control,” Harry and Ginny can barely do more than blink in his direction when Jamie shouts across the den, “ Kendra?”

As the tall brunette makes her way across the room, Ginny murmurs so only Harry can hear, “Hope those interoffice dinners with the bobbies from Scotland Yard are doing their job.”

He muffles his snort as best as he can and puts on his polite face for their new friends.

Dudley had better get him a case of scotch for this.

It’s not long, though, before they’re all summoned to the dining room for a delicious three course dinner. It’s not until the little miniature fondue pots are laid out that Harry realizes just how much of an appetite he’s worked up. He’s dunking his fourth bit of crusty bread in the heavenly dish when Piers’ wife - June? - addresses Harry. “I think it’s just lovely that you boys have known eachother since primary school.”

Dudley’s skewer falls to the table with a clatter and Harry simply raises his brows at Piers before responding, a slightly stiff smile on his face, “Ah. Yes. Even from a young age Piers was always eager to make an impression.”

Ginny snorts and June looks slightly confused at Piers’ flush, but prattles on about where her grade school mates went off to. Dudley and Fran look relieved as the chef pushes in a rattling cart filled with china bowls and a tureen of creamy tomato.

Once they’ve finished off half a roast chicken, two bowls of mashed potatoes, and some sort of baked mixed veg dish, they move back into the den and settle on the couches. The chef - Harry really tried to learn his name but he muttered it in a low very heavy German accent and Pamela was telling some story involving a fog horn which requires some very detailed imitation - disperses after dinner coffees and cherry pie a la mode before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Ginny manages her way through the minefield that is being a professional Quidditch player in the company of curious Muggles while they devour the pie. Before Ron and Hermione’s wedding, the bride herself had gifted Ginny with one of those ‘for dummies’ type books on football. Under threat of whatever terrible punishment Hermione Granger-Weasley could cook up, Ginny studied the book like she was back in her seventh year prepping for NEWTs and consequently ended up with a highly useful knowledge of the sport. Not that Ginny was a particularly big fan of telling Hermione so - in fact she’d only admitted it to Harry after a few too many glasses of wine on last year’s post-Christmas holiday from the world.

In the interest of brining the chat to a close before Ginny runs out of professional opinions as a sports writer in the field, Harry waits for an opportune moment and transitions the conversation to the following day. It seems they’ve got full run of the slopes and more than enough equipment to share between the four couples. Harry and Ginny went skiing with a few of his mates from the Ministry the January after Ginny started with the Harpies, so a day on the slopes should be pretty enjoyable. Plus last time they collapsed in bed and took turns massaging eachother’s tired muscles so all around Harry’s excited. He would probably have more fun if he and Ginny were home in their flat instead of using up valuable...bonding time socializing with Dudley and his mates.

“Ginny will probably put us all to shame, sportswoman that she is,” Pamela says with a laugh, propping her socked feet on Kate’s legs. She wriggles her toes so it almost seems the jolly reindeer are dancing and Ginny laughs good naturedly.

“I do alright, Harry here’s the expert though with that fit little arse,” Ginny laughs and Harry flushes.

Piers sets his coffee down with a clumsy hand, brows furrowed. “See - I still don’t understand that.”

“I’m sure that is something you don’t say often,” Ginny drawls, low so only Harry is privy to her jab.

“Harry’s always been a scrawny, specky thing and somehow he managed to land a hot piece of - ”

Unintentionally, Harry lets out a low growl as his jaw tightens. He’s used to holding back his baser instincts in this type of situation given that Ginny prefers to handle on her own with a mix of witty barbs and head cracking, depending on the situation. At the moment, he’s torn on which he’d like to see most.

Ginny’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as she sets down her half-empty plate on the side table. Then she smiles, slightly too toothy to be genuine and Harry knows that look. It’s the same expression she gets before decimating the competition during a game, a shark smelling blood in the water. “Yes, Harry was a little thing. But he’s certainly grown up,” she pauses and squeezes his thigh meaningfully and sends him a flirtatious wink, “In all the most important ways.”

Jamie and Kendra share a look, both biting back laughter while Fran clears her throat, moving things along before Ginny decides to challenge Piers to a duel for Harry’s honor. She might hate an overly chivalrous mate, but hell if Ginny’s not a melodramatic Gryffindor when it comes to defending hers.

Everyone wanders off to their rooms, Dudley and Fran collecting the dishes and passing them through to the kitchen. Harry takes the stairs two at a time, tugging Ginny behind him.

Once they reach their room, Harry swings the door open and once they’re inside, presses Ginny up against the wood.

Ginny’s chest is rising and falling as she catches her breath, though she still manages a teasing, “Alright, Harry James?”

He’s already working his way down her neck, fingers dragging up the bottom of her jumper. “You have never been sexier.”

Sighing, she wriggles her hand between them and manages to press Harry away, just barely. “Wait ‘til you see what I packed to sleep in...or not sleep in.”

Harry wakes to a facefull of Ginny’s hair and a full bladder. She groans as he extricates himself from the bed, grasping at the sheets with her face scrunched against the morning light. “Why leave the glorious bed and your even more glorious wife for the cold, cruel world.”

“Unless you want me to wet the bed - ”

“Gross,” Ginny grumbles, flopping so she somehow takes up most of the bed, “Just get that clenched arse back here ASAP.”

“Ogling me?”

“You’re the one parading around starkers,” Ginny teases, twisting onto her back and basically wrapping herself up like a sultry little burrito.

Harry closes the door behind him, shouting back, “You’re a bloody minx.”

After some very enjoyable quality time as husband and wife, Harry and Ginny manage to pry themselves from the comfort of their bed and dress for polite company. Just as they’re about to reach the top of the stairs, Pamela and Kate emerge from their own room, looking well rested and chatting about the weather conditions.

Pamela waves, cheery, while Kate affords them a short nod in greeting. “Did you see the weather?”

Harry flushes, because they most definitely did not bother with much of anything but each other that morning, and Ginny pinches his side. “We had the curtains drawn, wanted to sleep in a bit.”

“Surprise snowstorm swept in last night,” Kate says, “We flicked on the wireless, the roads are all closed.”

Pamela leads the way and the couples continue downstairs. “At least Fran said we’ve got an excess of food laid up for the weekend. I wouldn’t mind staying in all cozied up in front of the fire and eating my weight in cheese.”

Ginny grins, “We’ll get along just fine, Pamela.”

Breakfast is as decadent as dinner the night before, Harry could swear they ate three dozen eggs between them, and the conversation is easy despite the niggling presence of Piers. Perhaps Ginny’s shag away the rage plan is viable.

Over a final pot of tea, the couples make plans to grab the sliders, sleds, and whatever else Dudley and Fran rented for the weekend and take advantage of the fresh snowfall.

Once everyone’s bundled, they troop out into the bright wintery morning and fall on the gear like excited children. Almost immediately, Ginny snatches up two sliders and tosses one toward Harry’s chest. “Let’s see how fast you are, old man.”

“Again, barely a year older,” Harry says, mock serious, and trots towards the slope.

He’s getting settled in, ready to push off when a red and grey blur flashes past him followed by the ever familiar sound of Ginny’s competitive cackle.

She’s a third of the way down the hill when Harry pushes off with a muttered swear. The icy wind bites at his exposed cheeks, his throat dry from laughing in the cold, eyes streaming. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, Ginny always manages to make him forget his cares and feel like a kid again. Maybe the kid he never really got to be, save a few precious memories.

When he reaches the bottom, Ginny’s already propped her slider in the snow next to her hip, eyes alight with teasing glee. “Welcome, you made it just in time for my birthday.”

Tossing his sled aside, Harry takes a few quick strides - slightly slowed by the drag of snow drifts - and tackles Ginny to the ground in an expert move, perfected in the training room with Ron. Hovering just above her, his hat lost in the fray, Harry accuses, “You are a cheat.”

“Opportunist,” Ginny corrects, gloved hands splayed to the sides so she’s positioned like some sort of gingerbread man. “We never set rules.”

“Because since the dawn of time, races assume opponents will begin at the same place and time.”

“Don’t go all high and mighty, you pulled that out of your arse.”

“How would you know?” Harry says, rolling off and tugging Ginny to her feet, “I have layers.”

“Hermione Granger-Weasley is the only human in existence who says that and actually knows she’s correct.”

Harry dips his head, allowing it, and they begin the trek back to the top as Kendra and Jamie speed down on a two person toboggan. He leans down to swipe up his lost cap and continues, “Next time, I’ll come prepared with documentation.”

“You’d better, I’m a hard arse who takes no shite,” Ginny replies, jutting her chin and pausing to pose dramatically.

“Don’t make me take you down again.”

“Like you could,” Ginny challenges.

“Is that a dare?” Harry asks, stepping closer as they reach the hilltop.

She eyes him speculatively so Harry’s body thrums with possibility, before shaking her head. “No. Not yet. I want to draw this out - make it all the better for waiting.”

Harry’s brows rise and before he can think, he’s got a snowball formed in his hand and flying right for his wife’s face.

Swiping the flakes from her cheeks, Ginny’s eyes narrow. “You’ll live to regret that move, Potter.”

And then it’s an all out war, a blur of snowy projectiles that somehow draws in the other couples.

They split into two groups sharing the same battlefield, their clothes wetter with each throw and snowball sneaking through the defense, it’s not long before time slides away from everyone’s minds. A growling belly (Ginny’s) announces it’s turned lunch time and heartily laughing the battered troops march arm in arm back into the cabin, completely and utterly ready for the chef’s finest.

However, in lieu of the fresh and delicious aromas of nicely cooked food there’s only a disappointing smell of...nothing? The wood in the fireplace has all but burned, the back door was left ajar, the cold winter air creeping inside, and there’s conspicuously no frenzied rumblings from the kitchen.

Still they shrug it off and hop the stairs two at a time to change into something dry before hypothermia kicks in and terminates their small weekend getaway, high key hoping that a steamy meal will be enthroned upon the table when they return.

“Something’s off,” Ginny comments as her first layer of clothing flies away into the continuously growing pile of wet clothes. “And I don’t just mean your right throw.”

“I’ll let you know I’m taking offence on that,” Harry scoffs, wrestling his thermalware off and over his ankles. His face turns serious once he’s gotten rid of the sodden cloth, “But yeah, I’ve the same feeling.”

“What’s on your mind, then?” Ginny looks at him, pensive and weary.

“If my gut is right, then our pleasant weekend ended with the cook’s conspicuous disappearance,” Harry scratches at his stubble and walks over to Ginny, puts his arms around her. “But let’s wait and see how it plays out.”

Ten minutes later they’re both tucked into woolen hand-knit sweaters, winter jackets cozily fitted around them. Harry’s boots scratch the surface of the dining room as he stops to take in the scene. Three couples, six people looking a little bit uneasy, a little bit grey-faced. Never a good omen, this feeling of uneasiness sweeping up an entire room and slowly sowing seeds of panic and despair.

“The food’s still not here,” Piers smartly observes and Harry would very much like to serve him a knuckle sandwich for his efforts. Still, he does have to admit there are other more pressing issues he must attend to first.

“Erm - Harry,” Dudley calls uncomfortably from one of the armchairs next to the windows. “Do you have any...tips?”

Harry’s mind is buzzing with not just tips, but theories. It’s always done things on its own, his mind, first creating a mental map of the scene, filling it with dots to connect them later, when the blur disappears and everything takes shape.

Behind smudgy round glasses, his eyes focus on a spot next to Dudley’s left ear and through the window, somewhere outside. Suddenly, he remembers the door being ajar and the chill that greeted them once they returned to the cabin.

In three quick strides, Harry’s at the door, his deft fingers prodding at the floor.

“Harry?” Ginny asks and he knows she’s caught up on his train of thought.

“Someone was here,” he states.

“What? How?” Three pairs of voices sound from all over the room.

“Someone was here and they’ve been very careful to mop their footprints before they left,” Harry explains as he makes his way towards the kitchen, Ginny and Dudley in tow. There are pots and pans everywhere, as though a hurricane had snuck in while they were outside and wreaked havoc. All three rush through the kitchen back door and -

“Shite,” Harry swears under his breath. Before him, a body rests peacefully in the snow. If not for the unusual stance of the arms, the loll of its head to one side, one would be tricked into thinking that the cook was taking a quick kip before supper.

“Oh no - oh, Harry, is he dead? He’s dead, right?” Dudley panics, his face paper white.

“Dudley, go lock all doors and tell everyone to not leave the sitting room under any circumstances,” Harry instructs and shakes his cousin twice when there’s no response. “Understood?”

Dudley lamely nods his blonde head and stumbles back inside the cabin.

“Ginny,” Harry focuses his attention on his wife, composed and ready three steps behind him. “Try and call the muggle police. Ring until someone picks up.”

She’s much faster than Dudley to comprehend and speeds through the door with a quick nod of acknowledgement.

As Harry squats down to examine and think, his mind begins its wild zigzag trajectory once more. Who could have done it? Why? What’s their MO? Why the cook and not somebody else?

“Bloody hell!” Ginny’s voice distinctly punctures through to him and then she’s back, blazing look on her face and breath uneven. “The phone lines’ve been knocked out by the blizzard.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, heavy boots stomping their way back inside. It seems like there’s never a day of rest for Auror Potter, not even this far from the Wizarding World.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harry’s growl startles Piers, his hand on the door handle and cap askew atop his head.

“Home. I want none of this -”

“You’re staying right here.”

Piers’ face turns from white to scarlett then back to white in under three seconds, probably a new world record, before he finds the courage to ask, “Says who?”

Sadly for Harry and his well prepared fists, it’s Dudley who gets to them first and provides a stuttered answer, “Piers, erm - I know I never told you before, but, yeah, Harry’s with...Scotland Yard.”

Everyone’s silent, the kind of silent that indicates fear, not comprehension of the general situation. Harry’s well acquainted with it, walking into rooms where the quiet feels as heavy as chains more often than not.

He’s photographed enough to hold as evidence, careful that each of his actions could pass as a muggle detective’s under any circumstance. For now, he knows the fall was definitely not a fall, but a deliberate push. He also reckons the possibility of another murder is fairly limited, but still keeps a close eye on everyone.

“Anyone fancy a cheese sandwich?” Ginny claps her knees as she gets up from one of the chairs, tone as cheery and natural as she can manage.

Immediately, Dudley’s wife, then Pamela jump to their feet, breaking the strange trance they’ve all fallen into since the body’s been found.

Harry takes it as cue to disappear for a few moments and alert the cavalry, so to say.

“I’ll be upstairs for a minute to send word to a friend,” he casually addresses Dudley, emerald green eyes clearly saying more than his mouth does: make sure nobody leaves.

He climbs the stairs two at a time and shuts the door behind him, casting Muffliato before anything else. Harry concentrates fast and hard on the day’s events, he imagines Ron receiving the news.

“Expecto Patronum!” The liquid silver shapes into a stag, hooves trotting on the wooden floor before it takes flight to Ron, Harry’s message safely guarded with it.

“Think, Harry, think,” he urges himself as he paces the room, five steps ahead and another five back. “You’ve arrived here by car, so have the others, and maybe...so has the chef? And the killer?”

Clinging on to that last thought, Harry runs to the parking lot, wand clenched tightly in his fist inside his windbreaker. He rushes past an infuriated Piers, past the clink of the cutlery on plates as the rest munch on Ginny’s patented cheese sandwiches and out the door, nearly flying over the landing.

A nasty curse and a stomp of the boot against the ice and snow, and Harry’s almost never been so displeased to notice that the instinct telling him the murderer must’ve taken the chef’s car and scattered was correct. And along with the car, most of what would have been his lead vanished as well.

Frustrated, he shakes the snow off from his clothes and shoes, then slumps on the couch next to Ginny with a sigh and a ruffle of his perpetually messy hair.

“You don’t look too chuffed, Potter,” Piers remarks with a scoff. “Should we take it that your little investigation has failed?” Harry is aware that he should exert some self control, but his childhood bully seems a bit too pleased with himself to let it slip.

“The only thing you’ll be taking if you don’t shut it is my foot up your -”

“Harry needs more time before he draws his conclusions,” Ginny squeezes her husband’s leg, then turns to him. “Perhaps I could assist, right, dear?”

And she’s right, he’s got to focus and ignore foul-mouthed idiots for the time being. A man’s been killed.

“Better check the cook’s room before we lose more evidence,” Harry agrees.

They leave the room perfectly aware of the many pairs of eyes following them, not fully trusting, yet not entirely certain they can’t trust them. It’s that gut feeling that tells Harry once again that the killer is not longer amongst them.

“That bad, huh?” Ginny asks from the corner of her mouth as they stop in front of the chef’s room, door closed and locked.

“Fairly,” Harry admits, looking around to be certain no one’s watching before he removes his wand from its pocket and taps the handle. “Car’s gone, as is the murderer.”

“Brilliant,” Ginny mutters as she pushes the door open with her shoulder and steps inside.

The room looks untouched - a wee bit too untouched and clean for Harry’s taste.

“Someone’s been pretty keen on leaving no trace, I reckon,” he states and, after memorising each detail of the scene, takes out the camera and snaps enough photos to add to the ever growing case file. All a far cry from the playful snowy snaps he’d imagined taking home this weekend.

A quick search through the wardrobe and desk drawers shows that the chef’s a long term employee of the cabin: there’s piles of clothes and stacks of paperwork, paychecks and logs in one agenda.

“He used to be here more often than not, wasn’t he?” Ginny asks, her voice trailing off at the end.

“Seems so...But then -”

“Yeah?”

“Then the killer must be a person who knew him well. Well enough to find him here, and his car, his room, his schedule,” Harry finishes running both hands through his disheveled hair.

“A peer?”

“Or a friend.”

“Dunno how many friends this one’s got, there’s no personal mail, no postcards, no notes around,” Harry points back towards the desk.

“Or just someone who knows things about other people,” Ginny shrugs, a frown disrupting entire constellations of freckles on her face.

There’s silence before Harry’s eyes widen as he remembers a short scene from the previous day, and he slaps his forehead, palm pressing hard and quick against the old scar.

“What?” Ginny asks, brown eyes locked with green.

“You’re brilliant, you are!” Harry grins toothily, brings her close and kisses her hard on the lips.

“I mean usually I’d say where’s the lie, but why am I brilliant right now?” She responds, slightly amused, slightly taken by surprise.

“Muggles put their mail on hold when they leave for longer periods of time.”

“Oh?”

“Therefore mailmen are informed about the recipient's departure so they know when to start delivering mail again,” Harry continues his explanation as he paces around the room, a habit he’s developed and honed over long work hours of thinking, thinking, thinking.

“You mean to say that -” Ginny gasps, eyes fixed intently on Harry.

“That the mailman must’ve been the killer, yeah.”

“Merlin’s sweet - why would they do it?”

“That I do not know yet,” Harry ceases his pacing, a smirk lingering on the corner of his lips. “Ron should be able to tell us once he’s done searching the chef’s house and secured the stolen car from wherever our suspect’s abandoned it.”

“How inappropriate is it that I believe you’ve never been hotter?” She grins, steps closer to him, one hand pushing her hair back as the other sneaks beneath his sweater.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Harry breathes against her lips, hands cupping her face before she presses him against the wall and kills him slowly with tender kisses.

Ginny pauses, pulling away, “Perhaps we continue this not in the murder victim’s bedroom?”

“Affirmative.”

Ron takes the lead back in London, getting together with actual detectives from Scotland Yard and somehow getting a combined magic and muggle task force approved for the case, despite it’s heavily muggle leaning. When Harry says as much, Ginny grins. “Ron’s the second most persuasive Weasley, so I’m not shocked.”

Harry chuckles as he tugs his trousers back on and flops back against the rumpled bedclothes. “And who takes first place?”

“Ravishing girl with amazing quidditch skills who just moments ago persuaded one Harry James Potter to - ”

Grabbing her hand as she passes the bedside, Harry pulls Ginny’s hand until she’s splayed diagonally across his chest. She doesn’t hesitate, simply propping herself on her arm and smirking down at him. “Do I embarrass you?

“You do a lot of things to me, Ginevra Molly Potter, but embarass is not one of them.”

Fingertips teasing along his cheekbones, Ginny smiles, soft. “I s’pose I should take the compliment for what it is and not bring up a certain ill-advised Valentine’s card?”

“Young me was surprised, adult me thinks ‘adorable,’”

“Quoting ourselves, are we?” Ginny teases, before pushing up from the bed and stepping into her trainers. “Now let’s head down there before the situation turns any more Agatha Christie than it already has.”

Sighing, Harry rocks himself into a sitting position and grabs for his dry boots. “Aye, if we don’t figure out the food situation soon, Piers will start eating people.”

“I have no doubt.”

Harry’s prediction is proven wrong - slightly - since it seems Piers’ motivation for food manifested itself, but not in a cannibalistic fashion.

When they reach the foot of the staircase, the first thing Harry notes, following Piers’ conspicuous absence, is the heady scent of something definitely beef-based. He says as much to Ginny and she chuckles. “What a detective you are.”

“Never said I was a food expert,” Harry laughs, catching Dudley’s eye. His cousin seems to be on high alert, perhaps waiting on pins and needles since the Potters disappeared upstairs. And perhaps he should feel sorry for keeping Dudley waiting while Ginny had her way with him, but the beauty that is Ginny after a Detective Harry episode coupled with about sixteen years of childhood bullying alleviate Harry’s guilt.

Before they can rejoin the group, Dudley strides towards Harry. “So - what’ve you found?”

Ideally, the whole group won’t need to be kept up to speed with every detail. Especially since once they get some actual leads, he really can’t keep the lines of information flowing. Ginny, as usual, seems to cotton on to his train of thought and excuses herself. “I’ll go give the others a little bit of info, see if they noticed anything.”

Dudley leads Harry toward a little study off the front of the cabin and presses the door closed with a click. “Sorry. Should’ve thought of this earlier.”

Harry props himself on the lip of the ornately carved desk and Dudley sighs into one of the tufted chairs. Once Dudley seems to have settled himself, Harry sets a few charms around the room and begins catching him up to speed. “I got in touch with Ron - you know him from the wedding - and he’s got with Scotland Yard so they’re working things from that end. Ginny and I secured the necessary areas as much as possible and I’ve done my best to take crime scene photos so the police will have something to work with once the snow clears.”

“I doubt they’ll find anything you’ve missed,” Dudley states, without a hint of hesitation.

Honestly, if you’d asked Harry ten years ago if Dudley would ever say something so complimentary so easily, he’d have laughed in your face.

Harry runs his palms over his trousers and purses his lips in thought. “The plan from here is to keep everyone safe - it seems this was a specific crime, not some slasher waiting in the wind to come pick us off. Still, I’d like everyone to stay in groups and most definitely indoors after dark.”

After a moment, Harry releases the charms around the room and guides Dudley to the door. As they’re about to join the group, Dudley pauses and chuckles wryly. “You know I really did think this would be a nice holiday for you.”

“Trouble finds me, Big D.”

Dinner is a surprisingly enjoyable affair where Harry discovers Piers became a chef, of all things. At work, he’s probably like the real life version of the angry chef on the telly. As Harry and Ginny claim a couple of seats, he leans in close to murmur, “Piers cooking - he’ll probably poison mine, or at least spit in it.”

Ginny snorts, “I’d hope for poison; have you seen his dental hygiene habits?”

Regardless, he managed to whip up a pretty delicious meal - butternut squash soup, steaks all around, garlic mashed potatoes, and some sort of mixed fruit pie. Everyone’s pretty quiet, light chatter about passing salt and compliments to the chef. Though using that particular phrasing generally earns a wince or two, given the state of their actual chef.

Once the tea’s been drunk to the dregs and sweet seconds have been had, it’s Kate who finally works up the nerve to ask Harry about the investigation.

“So Scotland Yard is investigating?”

Harry fiddles with his teacup, righting it in the saucer, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve forwarded all the information we have as of yet to my partner in London, yes.”

Jamie props his elbows on the table, leaning in closer. “What sort of information, then?”

It’s in this instance, Harry finds himself grateful for the bureaucratic nonsense that exists in his line of work. The day has been long, somewhat disturbing as murder is wont to be, and Harry really doesn’t trust his ability to keep his temper if he’s subjected to another interrogation courtesy of Piers. “I feel comfortable saying it appears we have a homicide on our hands and that our safety is best served by remaining in groups, preferably indoors.”

Piers harrumphs, likely chafing at the idea of Harry being in charge, and Ginny bites back on a laugh. Troublemaker.

Pushing his plate away, Harry continues, “I’ll do another sweep of the cabin, inside and outside, once everyone heads upstairs.”

Fran smiles. “Thanks for doing all this on your holiday, Harry.”

“Well we do pay his salary, after all. It’s his job,” Piers grumbles.

Harry, in a feat his younger self would have either found admirable or deeply disappointing, does not answer back with a witty rejoinder or the business end of his wand. Perhaps Ginny will make good on her ‘shag the frustration away’ promises. It’s worked so far - Piers is still alive after all.

Luckily, everyone’s similarly drained from their rather harrowing day and head off to bed without Harry ushering them upstairs like an overworked nanny. Though it does sound a bit like a sitcom - ‘Harry the Harried Nanny.’

Ginny insists on trailing him as ‘back up’ offering commentary on his techniques. Generally, it’s a mix of actual, helpful assistance and notes on which search practices are most effective in featuring his ‘cute arse.’

Overall, by the time they return to their bedroom, Harry’s satisfied the house is secure (courtesy of a few carefully placed charms) and highly unsatisfied in other areas. Though Ginny seems similarly inclined, if her seeking hands and very quick fingers are any indication. And if Harry was in any way confused by the signals, Ginny’s veritable pounce once he presses the door closed would have definitely provided some clarity.

Either way, Harry and Ginny enjoy a rather lovely evening on the cosy rug in front of the fireplace before drifting off to sleep.

Harry wakes to the disappointing sound of Ginny in the shower, alone. Though the tragedy is one easily remedied, if he acts quickly enough.

Quietly, while Ginny’s still warbling her way through some new pop ditty that played about four hundred times on the way to the cabin, Harry brushes his teeth in order to present his lovely, soaked, naked wife with a minty fresh mouth. She’s only just started her routine - he can smell as Ginny works her hair into a lather with the flowery shampoo she favors.

After rinsing, Harry pulls the shower door open with a pop and slips in behind Ginny. She barely startles, settling back against him as he winds his arms around her middle. “You didn’t wake me up, Mrs. Potter.”

“You worked quite hard last night.”

“You mean yesterday?” Harry asks, nipping at her jaw.

“I said what I meant,” Ginny drawls, twisting in his embrace and letting her palms slip over his arms, slippery from the spray.

And while things start fairly innocent - Ginny providing her excellent shampooing skills in a completely selfless manner - they end up with a mutually satisfying encore to last night’s performance. Twice.

Life can’t be all fun and games, sadly, and once they’re dressed and ready for the day, Harry sends another Patronus to check in with Ron.

Ron’s answer is short, “Got your fireplace hooked up to the network, jump on in a few.”

While Ginny secures the bedroom from prying eyes, Harry rifles through their luggages and finds his emergency pouch of floo powder.

After shouting into the flames, Harry finds the worn rug of his and Ron’s shared office swirling into focus. “Alright, Ronnie?”

“Why do you do that to me?”

“‘Cause I l o ve you,” Harry says with a grin.

Ginny saunters over and squats down next to Harry. “Making a move on my brother before my very eyes.”

“What can I say? Those gangly limbs and ocean blue eyes send me .”

“I am not - whatever. Back to business,” Ron grunts, “We followed your hunch and looked into the mail carriers who’ve had that route, or anybody involved with mail processing in the area. A few of them have some minor infractions on their records. Not too much on that front at the mo’.”

“Anything on the chef himself?” Harry asks.

“Ah,” Ron says, shuffling through the file he placed at his knee, “We found an odd series of deposits into his bank account. Not overly large sums but untraceable cash.”

“You think blackmail?” Ginny asks.

Harry hums his agreement in the question and Ron nods, “That’s our best guess, so far.”

“Keep us posted.”

“Ditto.”

Just before Harry disconnects the floo, Ron pauses, “Be safe you two, eh?”

Ginny salutes, “Right-o, Ronnie.”

He groans, “I hate you.”

The flames die down and Harry pushes to his feet, waiting for Ginny to follow suit. “We’ll head to breakfast?”

Laughing, Ginny pauses with her fingers on the handle, “Ready to be interrogated?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“This is ridiculous,” Piers bursts mid bite. “Are we expected to sit here in silence like well behaved children and ask no questions?”

“I don’t believe that’d be possible since you’ve never been well behaved,” Harry volleys right back around his sandwich.

“I should have beaten your skinny arse when I had the opportunity,” Piers throws his chair back, ready for battle. However, he quickly starts to look rather confused as to why he needed to get up, gently places his chair back at the table and, flashing an odd kind of smile, walks outside to build a snowman all by himself.

His wife sounds very uncomfortable at best as she delivers a hefty explanation before running after him, “Anxiety brings out the child in him. Excuse me.”

A quick look around the table helps Harry find the culprit in the form of a chuckling Ginny, even though, to her credit, she did try to hid it behind a paper napkin. He’ll remember to thank her properly later.

“Is there anything you’re able to tell us, Harry?” Kendra breaks the awkwardness, her eyes apologetic.

“Or if we’ll be able to leave today?” Jaime joins in, hopeful. “The storm’s cleared out, the roads should be alright now.”

Harry pats the corners of his mouth with a napkin before he calmly speaks, “I should be able to explain in about 30 minutes.” Somewhat of a flex, he knows, but he’s always worked flawlessly with Ron and their combined efforts in solving a case have never failed them.

“Meet me here at 10 sharp,” he addresses the befuddled audience in a true Hercule Poirot manner before he makes his way back upstairs, to his and Ginny’s room, where - if all went well - an owl should be waiting for him.

“Brilliant as always, mate,” Harry grins as he lays eyes on a snowy owl awaiting his arrival on the other side of the window.

Rapidly he lets her inside and scratches the feathers at the back of her head, then unties the scroll of parchment secured around her leg.

“Expected as much,” he grunts, takes out a pen from his pocket and scribbles a reply on the back of the paper.

As soon as the owl takes flight, Harry starts pacing the room, putting order to his thoughts and finishing the last of the puzzle. When he’s finally satisfied with the conclusions he’s drawn, Harry steps out into the hallway and back into the sitting room. The final moment’s arrived.

Seven pairs of eyes are upon him (albeit Piers’ is everywhere, still mildly confused) and Harry wastes no more time.

“There’s no mystery that the chef’s been murdered,” he starts in force. “Thus, the real question has been a natural one: who committed the murder? Followed by the why, the reason, the incentive to commit crime,” Harry confidently states, then pauses. “I am now able to tell you who and why.”

Startled gasps and concentration fill the room. Harry looks every one of the seven persons in the eye, offering enough space and time for any possible admissions, one of the first techniques he learned while training as an Auror. When no one speaks, he sighs and continues dutifully.

“Our chef’s been blackmailed,” Harry says all of a sudden. “He has been blackmailed for quite some time, up until the money was no longer enough and the truth was about to come out. In this sense, it is somewhat ironic that the murderer was not one of us -” relieved sighs echo all around - “but the mailman. The cook’s mailman, to be precise.” Harry finishes rather pleased and waits for a wave of questions to erupt, as it always happens.

Sure enough, everybody puts forward their own question which requires an answer and Harry allows enough time for the tension to disappear and the calm to return.

He raises one hand to signal that silence is once again needed, then continues, tone professional and frown between his dark eyebrows, “As most of us do, the chef had a habit of putting his mail on hold while he was away from home, therefore informing the mailman of the exact period of his absences. It appears that it is not unheard of that mailmen seize the opportunity to make a bit of profit from the information they are fed by the unsuspecting. And by profit I mean stealing from the person’s house while they are away.”

More gasps and whispers, followed by reactions of anger at the thought that an institution they’ve been taught to respect and trust could actually betray their trust.

“At one point, however, our chef had returned home earlier than planned, only to find the mailman inside his house, helping himself to something or other. And threatened to go to the police, hence spiralling into a nasty case of blackmail and death threats. Yesterday, our culprit became restless and decided to finish the affair, knowing full well that his victim would not be alone. How? He took it upon himself to deliver Dudley’s generous invitations - as he had been doing for awhile with any correspondence involving this venue, always at watch for the best opportunity to strike.”

At this, Dudley’s ears turn red, his palms fly to hide his face.

“So he takes a ride up here, waits until there is no one else inside and pushes the chef out the window to make it look like a fall. Unfortunately for him, when he stole the cook’s car, he did not take into account that the snow might block the roads,” Harry grins. “As I’ve just been informed, it’s how my colleagues found him, the car stuck in a pile of ice and snow on an empty road.”

“Blimey,” Dudley whistles, his eyebrows shooting so high up they almost blend in with his fringe.

“What - erm, what happens next?” A distressed Palma dares ask.

“A team from Scotland Yard is on its way. They’ll need to question everyone here, then you should be free to go enjoy the rest of the weekend,” Harry smiles good naturedly, understanding fully well everybody’s hurry to be out and far away from the cabin as possible. Murder and mystery don’t mix well with winter holidays - or with any other kind of holidays, really.

His eyes dart to Ginny, who’s smiling at him, all proud and loving. And he returns the feeling, every single bit of it.

“Harry Potter saves the day yet again,” Ginny teases on their way home, her fingertips caressing the skin on Harry’s arm as he drives.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, my dear Watson,” he winks.

“Sounds to me like you should thank this dear Watson,” she suggests, a cheeky glint in her eye.

“Oh, I plan on doing so.”

As the words roll off his tongue, his hands grab the wheel tighter and swerve right, off from the main road and up a forest path. As soon as the car disappears from view, heavily hidden by the thick patch of snow white trees, Harry turns the ignition off and maneuvers his seat to lean back.

A ginger eyebrow rises in question and Harry grins wide.

“I’m feeling rather rebellious after this weekend,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “You were right, it was good for me.”

“Aha,” Ginny smirks. “I see,” she bites her lower lip as she slips from her seat and climbs up her husband’s lap, straddling him as her fingers scratch at the back of his head. “Then I better show you that,” she stops, freckled fingers curling around the hem of her sweater, slowly taking it off, “I did save that little black thing especially for you.” Ginny winks and Harry turns to mush.

Before long, there are no clothes left to tear off. There’s just them, hidden away by the steamy windows of a rented car parked at the edge of a snowy forest.

At the end of the day, Harry does specialise in finding the silver lining, even on a weekend filled with murder and mayhem.

#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #auror!harry #sultry hinny #murder mystery #noir #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves #power duo back at it!#get hyped

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ashrelfury · 5 years

Text

Your Name

Brought to you by @minyardjostenrivalry‘s post about a Soulmate AU that i just....could not get out of my head people. So...here’s a short about it.

WARNING: Non-Con/Rape ahead, but nothing descriptive. And Angst with a happy ending. MOSTLY JUST ANGST though. Just... here.

If enough people comment and like it, I might write more, like the add-on by @demisexualnjosten about their rivalry going into their professional Exy careers I just really had to get this out of my head. .

Neil’s first experience with pain is at the age of six.

In the beginning, Nathan called him Junior with a small, proud smile on his face. His son, his heir, his pride and joy despite the loveless marriage he’d been forced into for the good of the family. Despite the name ‘Lola’ in bold scribble script on his inner hip. But it was all inconsequential. He had his son, and that would be enough. It was the only thing he and Mary could agree on.

And then the soulmate markings started to appear. A single letter every year, on the exact date and time Nathaniel Abram Wesninski was born.

Neil was three when he saw his father hit his mother for the first time. The letters A N D in careful freehand on his inner forearm, the A just below the crock of his elbow. The whole name would stretch the length of his whole forearm one day. But today wasn’t that day. Instead, he heard his parents screaming at each other, and watched from the stairs as they fought in the kitchen.

“It could be ‘Andrea’, or any other name! We don’t know that it’s a male!”

“We don’t know?! Look at the boy! He looks like a fucking fairy! This is your fault! Giving me a faggot son!”

Neil didn’t understand what ‘faggot’ meant, but he wouldn’t ask. It took only once to learn to be quite around his father. Only one hard slap to the back of his head to learn not to touch the man as well.

Everything started to fall apart that year. Neil doesn’t remember much, but the memory of Lola’s lessons were crystal clear.

Pain.

Blood.

Knives.

Neil thought he understood pain. After all, he constantly felt it. It became even worse when he started being home schooled by one of his father’s men. His mother standing at the door to watch, but never able to interfere. Neil sometimes wanted her to, but he saw the bruises on her skin too, and he thought that maybe it was better if they just did what they were told.

The next year, he got an R on his arm, right below the D.

He’d never felt so much fear before, but it was okay.

“Andrea. Nathaniel. Looks like your soulmates name is Andrea.” Nathan would say, his smile no longer proud, no longer small or warm. Instead, it felt like a predator baring his teeth and Neil wanted to recoil, but he stayed still. A big hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it hard and Neil grit his teeth to keep from crying out. He’d already learned this lesson too.

The next year, when he E began to appear on his arm, his father no longer believed that ‘Andrea’ was his soulmates name.

Nathan had sent Lola to his bed at night.

Neil was five, and scared, and in pain, but it was okay. He had his mother. She still smiled at him in the morning, although it was sad and fleeting. She held him sometimes too, when both of their bruises allowed the contact with minimal pain.

He’d learned to close his eyes and disappear when Lola touched his body. To repeat some of the songs he’d picked up from the music his mother liked to tune out her words, hissed in his ear. He never responded to her touch, he was too young, but the violation… to be touched in such a way unable to say anything, to be punished when his body wouldn’t do what she wanted it to… Neil dealt with it as best he could.

And then his birthday came again.

There was no party this year. No celebration as Nathan sat him down on a stool in the basement, and the two men watched with identical eyes as the last letter faded into clarity on his inner wrist.

Before it even began to darken on his skin, his father roared. Sudden and startling and terrifying.

Neil jumped and looked up and away from the name of the person who would someday love him. Who wouldn’t ever hurt him. Who couldn’t, because they would be soulmates.

Before Neil could determine what his father’s next move was be, the man had a long piece of metal, the end of it red and burning.

Fear suddenly had new meaning.

And then… so did pain.

In the next four years, Neil would look down at his arm and try to remember the name there. He wouldn’t. But he would remember A N D.

Andrew was 6 when he stopped believing in soul mates.

By that point, the letters N A T H A N had marked his forearm and Andrew glared at it every chance he got. If asked, he told people that the reason people didn’t want him, was because he had a boy’s name on his arm.

Every one punished him for it. They made him go to bed without food, they yelled and hit, and raged at him because he was a fairy, he didn’t deserve to live.

Then he turned 7 and the name he’d thought complete gained new letters. An I.

N A T H A N… I. What kind of name did his soulmate have? What the fuck?

But he couldn’t really focus on that point of oddness.

Not when the big man held him down and hurt him. Not when he screamed and cried: “Please! Please don’t, Please stop! Please!”

Not when the man kept saying: “It’s okay, you’re gay. Your soulmate will be glad I’m teaching you this stuff early. Say it again, Andy, come on, one more time and I’ll stop.”

Not when the man didn’t stop.

After everything, Andrew dug his blunt nails into his own arm and scratched at the name on his arm.

Everything bad came from this name. Nathani… what?

Two years later, when the name was finally done etching itself into his skin, he decided to etch his own scars over it. He took a blade to his wrist for the first time.

He started with the L and just kept going up.

Every year, he would focus on a new letter. At ten, it was the L. At eleven, the E. At twelve the I. And at thirteen… he met Cas Spear. And he stopped… for a few months. Then he met Drake… and he started again.

Fourteen, N. Fifteen, A. Sixteen, H. Seventeen, T A N.

He met a twin brother he’d never wanted. Killed a mother he’d never asked for. Met a cousin he absolutely didn’t feel for. And finally finished deforming the cursed name on his arm.

Whoever Nathaniel was, Andrew would kill him if he ever found him.

Later in life, when Andrew met Neil, he would remember taking a racket to the stupid runaway’s stomach, and he’d tell himself that that had been vindication enough.

He’d look at Neil’s arm, and the long burn scar of a fire poker that covered up his name, and he would think about the countless cut scars that covered up Nathaniel on his own.

He would be 27, and Neil 25 when they would walk into a tattoo shop and asked for an artist willing to write soulmate marks.

On Neil’s right arm, they would both finally see what should have been on his left all along. A N D R E W.

And on Andrew’s left, they would both revel in the four letters that were finally more truth than the scars on his right would ever be.

“You sly dog. Stealing him away from his soulmate like this.” The tattoo artist smiled, joking and serious all at once. The name Vinc starting just under his ear and continuing down the collar of his loose black shirt. Neil could tell that this man had met and fallen in love with Vinc – whatever.

“Not sly. Just lucky.” Neil would reply, a smile on his own face as he looked over at Andrew, whose tattoo was already done and wrapped, back under the ever-present black armbands.

Andrew’s hazel eyes narrowed at him, a warning there that Neil winked at.

The tattoo artist would never know that Andrew and Neil really were soulmates. He wouldn’t know that despite everything in their lives pushing them apart, they still managed to not all find each other, but care about each other enough to finally acknowledge what ‘soulmate’ really meant to either one of them.

Andrew had scars he’d made himself covering up the name Nathaniel. Neil had a fire poker branding caused by his father covering up the name Andrew.

Yet Andrew and Neil were exactly where they belonged now.

Side by side, pressed together as two met held hands above the gear shift of a sleek black car, headed for a home they shared together. A home where ‘fear’ and ‘pain’ didn’t have the keys to enter anymore.

Yeah.

Neil was just lucky.

And Andrew was fucking tired of his shitty sappiness.

#Andreil #Andrew Minyard #Neil Josten #Angst #Ficlet #Short Oneshot #All For The Game #Foxhole Court #I didn't mean to I swear #It wouldn't get out of my head #I'm so sorry #If people like it there will be more

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lovelylunarwriting · 6 years

Text

Doyoung Prince!AU

Prince Kim Doyoung’s kingdom is an empire of knowledge and scholars. The nation has a strong focus on maintaining quality education, keeping the people knowledgeable, and building some of the largest libraries to ever exist.

Although there are many massive libraries scattered across the country, by far the biggest one is the Royal Literature Hall. It’s so large that an entire wing of the castle is just that library.

This Royal Literature Hall is where Prince Doyoung, sometimes reluctantly, spends most of his time. As the crown prince and next in line to the throne, he’s always wanted to know more.

More about his kingdom’s history, more about his kingdom’s relations with the other nine nations, and more about his people. What the people need, how he could help them… the list goes on and on.

To sum it up, ever since he was told that he would be the next king, and not his older brother, Prince Doyoung has been s t r e s s e d.

He constantly feels the weight of the position of future king and the weight of his country on his shoulders.

It’s gotten so bad that he only sleeps a few hours a night, and even then, it takes him too long to get to sleep. His mind races from one issue to another, constantly trying to make up solutions. Inevitably, he has no epiphanies, and gets no sleep either.

He spends most days in the Royal Literature Hall, looking up one thing or another, whether it be historical war strategies or the medical advancements of another kingdom- it’s always something important, but ultimately not the most interesting.

But today, Doyoung's reading about the crop harvest summaries from the past seventy four years and oh my G O S H is he so bored.

So bored and yet he still can’t sleep because his mind is constantly racing.

Deciding that he’s had enough for the day, he borrowed some civilian clothes from his guard friend, Taeyong, gets dressed, and just walks out of the palace.

Upon making the long walk to town, he realizes that it's been two months since he’s set foot outside the castle.

For the first hour, Doyoung wanders around, strolling through the market, absently mindedly listening to people’s interactions.

The one thing that he notices is that almost every person he walked by is either talking about or carrying a copy of the newest hit novel “Shimmerlight”

In a nation built on books, for a novel to become popular isn’t uncommon, but this popular? That's kind of crazy.

Doyoung decides that he’ll check out the quality of this book himself.

He walks up to the first person he saw with the book and asks them where they purchased it.

“Oh, it’s in every bookstore! But if you want to talk to the author, I’d go to Honey Bee’s Buzzing Books”

Doyoung thanks the guy, and walks to where that bookstore is, following the directions given to him by the kind stranger.

All kinds of thoughts run through Doyoung’s mind. Why was the author at this bookstore? If they’re such a successful writer, why aren’t they living the good life in some villa instead of spending all day in some dusty store in town?

And why of all things, are they just available to talk? Don’t they have things to do? Go swimming in their piles of money, for example??

But then Doyoung checks himself, thinking “hey dumbass, you’re literally royalty and you’ve never seen a pool full of money, let alone jumped in”

By the time he’s done theorizing questions, he’s made it to the front steps of a cozy sized, old-timey bookstore, which he assumes has to be the famed Honey Bee’s Buzzing Books.

He hesitates walking in, but eventually does, immediately cringing at the sound of the bell ringing, announcing his presence.

“So much for keeping my head low”, he curses himself internally.

Just at that moment, a person (you) pops their head from around a bookshelf, and greets him with the biggest smile.

“Welcome to Honey Bee’s! How can I help you?, you ask the attractive young man that just entered your book store. You didn’t think you’d seen him before. No one could forget a face like that.

The awkward silence brings you out of your train of thought. He hasn’t responded to you at all- he’s just standing there, staring.

“Uhh, sir?”

“Sir? Oh gosh, don’t call me that. That makes me sound old”, he jokes.

“Okay, then what should I call you?”

“Doyoung. Call me Doyoung”

“Ooo, you’ve got the same name as the prince! How lucky for you, I’ve been told that he’s dreamy”

“He’s dreamy, huh? What else have you heard?”, he asks with a smirk.

“Well I’ve got a friend in the castle he says the prince is a hardass, but they’re known for being overly critical. I’m sure the prince is quite lovely. Anyway, have you come here with a specific book in mind?”

Doyoung: “Well, sort of. I’ve come here out of sheer curiosity. Have you heard of the novel Shimmerlight?”

You: “Heard of it! I practically wrote it”

Doyoung: “Really?”

You: “No like in all seriousness- I am the author. I literally wrote it”

Doyoung: “Oh, wow. So you wrote an entire novel, and you own this place?”

You: “Ah, this store isn’t mine. I work here to help out a friend- he’s the one who owns it. So you’re looking to buy my book?”

Doyoung: “Well, before I buy it, could you tell me a little about it? I’m not sure if your book is my kind of read”

You: “Of course I can! Here, come sit, I’ll go get some refreshments”, you say, leaving the cute stranger to go put on a pot of tea.

Doyoung’s used to being alone, and had never minded it before, but there's something so comforting and warm about you that makes him wish for you to come back sooner than later.

And his wish is granted as you stroll back over to the dainty table, with a teapot in one hand and two matching tea cups in the other.

Setting them down gently on the table, you excuse yourself once again and jog to the back room, your hair bobbing up and down as you run.

“Now we’re all set!”, you announce as you waltz up to the table, placing a plate of cookies and assorted sweets in front of the beautifully puzzled boy.

Doyoung: “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do all this for me”

You: “Of course I didn’t have to. I want to! Don’t worry about it and eat up, the cookies are baked fresh. They only came out of the oven about half an hour ago.

Doyoung: “Writing and baking? Is there anything you don’t do?”

You: “Exercise. It’s just not my thing”

Doyoung: “Yeah I get that, it’s not like I have much time for it anyways though”

You: “You don’t have time to exercise but you have time to investigate my book out of sheer curiosity?”

Doyoung: “Hey, you’re the one who just admitted to not exercising, don’t turn this on me”, he laughs.

His deadpan expression that he entered your store with is long gone, and replaced with the most gorgeous eye smile you’ve ever seen.

You hope he’ll stay long, you think to yourself, you heart beating a bit faster than before.

You: “Well let’s get straight into it! What do you want to know about my book?”

Doyoung: “Well, what is it about?”, he asked, the curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Explaining your novel to people and just getting to talk about your ideas, characters, and creative process is one of your absolute favorite things to do. Your friend who owns Honey Bee’s always reminds you not to get carried away and bore people with blabbing about your stories, but you’ve always insisted on blabbing anyway to anyone who is willing to listen.

Most of the people who come in to talk to you are grannies and young kids. The grannies always try to set you up and introduce you to their sons, but you always manage to maneuver your way out of it as politely as you can.

At one point there was an elderly woman who was convinced that you were the perfect match for her son, and so you told her that you were interested in women to get her off your back.

The next day she came in with her daughter.

You didn’t try that strategy again.

Blabbing as your strong suit, this is exactly what you do in this current moment with Doyoung. You explain to him what the characters are like, their relationship to one another, and by the time that you’d described the many different aspects of the fantasy land you’d created, he’s… dozed off.

Was he really asleep?

He’d eaten half the cookies and drank two cups of tea, and you always kept the shop warm, especially during these winter months, so you assume it’s only natural that he could get drowsy.

You make the decision to not take him falling asleep while you were talking as a personal offense, and more as something flattering. To protect your pride, more than anything.

You go to the back room and grab a blanket out of the closet. Treading careful, as to not make any noise, you come back and delicately place the plush blanket around his broad shoulders.

He's completely out cold with his arms crossed on the table, and his head tilted to the side, resting on top.

In this moment he just looks so… peaceful. He came in to your shop looking exhausted and stressed, so you're glad that he's able to rest.

Your friend is going to kill you for this, but you close the store down way earlier than normal, so that no one could come in and the bell wouldn’t ring, waking him.

He looked like he needed sleep more than anything and you weren’t about to take that away from him, even if he was sleeping in the book store.

You sit behind the front counter and immersed yourself in the book you’d picked up a few days ago.

Honestly you think about sitting back in the seat across from him, but conclude that it would be a tad creepy if he woke up and you were just… there. Chillin.

Plus the table is right next to the window looking out on the streets and you didn’t want people getting the wrong idea when you would inevitably stare at him while he slept.

He’s so pretty, how could you not?

You finish the book, left with the feeling of wanting to read more of it, so you get up to see if you have the sequel somewhere around here.

As soon as you stand up, however, you heard someone outside shout “Lord Prince!”

And you freeze on the spot.

Someone shouting for the Prince? And a man named Doyoung in your store?

“No way, this isn’t a fucking disney movie”, you mumble in disbelief as the shouting man pounds on the door.

“Excuse me, you!”

“Calling me ‘you’? How rude”, you say to no one in particular as you unlock the door. The man hurries in and starts barging over quite loudly to Doyoung when your protective instincts kick in. You grab the man by the wrist, whipping him around to face you.

“I’m sorry but he’s asleep and you need to let him rest. He was exhausted when he came in, so please let him sleep at least a little longer”

“Do you realize who I am?”, the man asks.

“No but frankly, I don’t care. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days”, you argue.

“...you’re right about that. I don’t know the last time he’s slept for more than a few hours at a time”, the man sighs.

You let go of his wrist, relieved that he’ll let Doyoung rest. But then you think, “Why do I care so much?”

Not able to find a reason, you pass off the feeling as your patriotic concern for the well being of your country’s Prince.

But even you know that’s bullshit. You just weren’t ready to admit to yourself that you’re catching feelings for the p r i n c e for fucks sake.

You pull up a second chair behind the front counter, and bring this guy, who introduced himself as Johnny, the prince’s butler, tea and cookies, just as you had done for Doyoung. It’s the least you could do, since you're telling him to wait.

For once, you're the one listening to his stories. Johnny confides in you his worries about the prince’s physical and mental health, telling you how Doyoung has been working himself to the bone, trying to know everything possible in order to be a good king one day. He also tells you in more detail about how Doyoung hasn’t been able to fall asleep due to stressing out and worrying himself about the fate of his country, and his own capability to reign as a good and fair king.

“But my real question is, how did you get him to fall asleep? Please tell me you didn’t drug the cookies”, Johnny asks jokingly.

“I drugged no ones cookies. He came in because he was curious about the book I wrote, so I was telling him part of the storyline when he dozed off”

“So you told him a bedtime story, essentially?”, he rationalized.

“I’d like to think that my bestselling novel is of higher literary merit than a bedtime story but if that helps you explain what happened, then sure, but-”, you began to say very sarcastically before Johnny hushes you.

“Shh! He’s getting up!”

And that, he was. First Doyoung sits up, rubbing his eyes. He looks around the room with the most adorable panicked expression on his face, probably having forgotten where he was. Finally, he gets up and turns around, facing the two of you. Suddenly that panicked expression became more serious.

Doyoung: “What have you told them?”, he asks his butler sternly, as more of a command than a question.

You: “Nothing too terrible, Prince Doyoung, he’s not much of a gossip”, you reply lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Doyoung: “So you know that I’m… I wasn’t trying to-”

You: “Sweetheart, I do not care that you’re the prince. I do care that you let me call you dreamy to your face. Gosh, how embarrassing”

Doyoung: “You don’t… care?”

You: “No, why should I? You’re a person, aren’t you?”

Doyoung: “Well… yeah”, he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You: “So am I. So don’t think you’re getting special treatment, Prince Dreamy”

Doyoung: “Prince Dreamy?”

You: “I think it’s quite fitting, don’t you?”, you said playfully to Johnny, who gives a thumbs up, playing along. You assume it isn’t often that he gets the opportunity to pick fun at his prince.

Doyoung: “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult”, he comments, popping a cookie in his mouth.

You: “Well it’s either that or Prince Hardass, which would you prefer?”, you say nonchalantly. And with that, Doyoung chokes on the cookie, coughing and hitting his hand on his chest.

Doyoung: “You could’ve killed me!”

You: “Oh and I would be charged with treason and hanged for the killing of Prince Hardass. How tragic”

Johnny: “Tragic indeed”, laughing at your banter with the prince.

After a brief silence, the feeling of the room changed to something more serious, yet again.

Johnny: “I’m sorry for his majesty’s intrusion of your time, but the prince must now return to his duties. We’ll be on our way”

You: “It was no problem! It’s only been around… oh. Seven hours”, you say, checking your watch.

Doyoung stands there hesitantly, looking at you like he wants to say something but can’t.

You: “Oh, I know!”, you shout, standing up from your chair abruptly. You walk over to one of the towering shelves of books and pull down your novel from the top shelf. Grabbing a pen off the counter, you quickly write your signature on the inside cover and hand the book to Doyoung.

You: “You liked where the story was going, right? Now you can finish it!”

Doyoung: “Oh, um… thank you. How much is it?”

You: “Free of charge, Prince Dreamy. Don’t worry about it”

That particular comment makes his cheeks tint a bright shade of pink. You figure the crown prince isn’t used to being called dreamy to his face.

The two men leave the shop, the bell by the door ringing as the door slams behind them.

You miss the presence of the snarky prince, and decide to clean the shop to get your mind off of today’s craziness.

Doyoung on the other hand, was both happy and confused.

He knew three things.

One- That that was the first time he’d slept somewhat soundly in months.

Two- That your book sounds super interesting and he can’t wait to go back to the palace to read it.

And three- He’s pretty sure he’s crushing on you. Hard.

Something about you is just so… comfortable to him. You're welcoming even though he just barged into your store, you made cookies and tea for fucks sake, and you didn’t change your attitude or demeanor around him when you found out he’s the prince.

That last point meant a lot to him. Most people upon finding out his royal status made it their goal to suck up to him to get something from him. You on the other hand, roasted the hell out of him, and he’s pretty sure he loves you for it.

Johnny had ridden a carriage into town, so Doyoung didn’t get to walk back, like he usually prefers to. Going for a walk clears his mind, and his mind could use quite a lot of clearing.

The entire ride back, he thinks about something other than the future of his country for once- he thinks about you.

And even when he gets back to the palace, he can’t manage to get you off his mind. Which although it’s sweet, for Doyoung’s focus it’s problematic.

Johnny informs Doyoung that he should finish his reading on fruit harvests and then call it a day.

So there Doyoung sits- at his usual spot in the Royal Literature Hall, staring blankly at the words on the pages and pages of harvest reports.

If he couldn't focus before, he definitely can't focus now.

“It's just a crush, just a stupid crush”, he mutters to himself while pushing away the stack of papers.

“I'll just read their book and get them out of my system. I'll get over these brief feelings when I finish the story”, Doyoung tells himself, pulling out the book you'd given him earlier in the day.

Placing it carefully on the table, he flips to the first page.

And then the second page.

And by the time he's gotten to the two hundred and fifty sixth page, he's fallen asleep yet again, his face resting in the crease of the book, his nose acting as the perfect bookmark.

Little did he know that his butler, Johnny, had come back to make sure Doyoung had finished his task, only to find his master out cold, yet again.

Johnny: “There are over a hundred beds in this castle, Prince Doyoung. I implore you to choose one”

Doyoung shoots up in his seat, awoken by Johnny’s sassy remark.

Doyoung: “Sorry, I didn't plan to fall asleep, it just keeps happening”

Johnny: “It's great to see you resting, but are their stories really that boring? Enough to lull you to sleep?”

Doyoung: “No no, that's not it at all. Their stories are lovely and soothing. I think that's why they put me to sleep. It's easier to think of their fantasy worlds than it is to face the reality of having to be king one day”

Johnny: “You talk of the throne as if it's a burden”

Doyoung: “Some days I feel like it is”

On that note, Doyoung gathers his things and makes his way to his room.

He sits on his bed and picked up the copy of Shimmerlight, tempted to read more.

“Just one more chapter”, he lies to himself.

Five chapters later, Doyoung's asleep, dreaming of the world of magic that you'd created.

Every night that week, Doyoung would read more and more of your book until one fateful night- he finishes it.

“What? That can't be the end!”, Doyoung shouts to the universe at like one in the morning. He immediately slaps his hand over his mouth, realizing the late hour.

He slept fine that night, but the night after that, he couldn't sleep at all. He doesn't have anything of yours to read, and he doesn't have you there to tell him stories, so he just lays there.

He tries counting sheep, controlled breathing, and all the other bullcrap Johnny advised him to do, but alas. Not even a wink of sleep.

Pulling this all-nighter causes Doyoung’s mood and morale to plummet. He finally found a way to sleep well and now it was over.

After grumbling and researching whatever dull task Johnny assigns him for the day, Doyoung finds himself unable to focus. He’d only met you once, and yet you managed to have such a significant impact on him.

“I’ll get over it- I’ll get over them”, Doyoung said aloud. He’d forgotten his attentive butler happened to be looming over his shoulder at the time.

Johnny: “You’ll get over who, exactly?”, he asks with the curiosity of a gossiping school girl.

Doyoung: “It’s nothing- forget it”

Johnny: “Mhmm... the less you say, the more you reveal, Prince Doyoung”

With a huff and a sigh, Doyoung comes to the conclusion that his butler is not going to leave him alone until he spills the metaphorical beans.

Doyoung: “...well do you remember the person who gave me the book Shimmerlight?”

Johnny: “Yes, I remember them very clearly, having had to talk to them instead of dragging you back to the castle after looking for you for hours”

Doyoung: “Look- you’ve already lectured me. Do you want to know what’s on my mind or not?”

Johnny: “I will admit I am quite curious. Before that day, I didn’t think anyone’s comments could fluster you, Prince Doyoung. Or should I say Prince Dreamy?”, he teases the moping prince.

Doyoung: “Ugh, forget it!”

Johnny: “My apologies for picking fun at royalty like yourself, Prince Doyoung. You just make it so easy”

Doyoung continues to confide in his butler, but not before shooting him a piercing glare.

Doyoung: “I just can’t stop thinking about them- no matter how much I try to block out thoughts of them with thoughts about literally anything else. And even worse, the only thing that can put me to sleep nowadays are their stories. And g o s h those cookies were so good”

Johnny: “I agree with you on that last one. With cookies like that, we ought to hire them as a pastry chef here at the castle”

And then it happens. The epiphany Doyoung's been waiting for all this time.

Doyoung: “Not as a chef, then they’d be stuck in the kitchens all day. We’ll hire them as a librarian, so they can work here- in the Royal Literature Hall”

Johnny: “...may I refrain from formality for just a moment?”

Doyoung: “...yes?”

Johnny: “Doyoung you c a n n o t hire someone to work for you just because you have a crush on them”

Doyoung: “I'm literally the prince, who is going to stop me”

Alden: “Ugh... I don’t like it. But if you insist, I’ll send a messenger to fetch them and bring them here to the cast-”

Doyoung: “No way, I’ll go talk to them. Don’t worry about it”

Doyoung doesn’t hesitate to rush out of the Literature Hall and out of the castle.

It takes him a good minute to realize that it’s raining, but there’s no time to waste, so he pulls up the hood of his jacket and keeps running towards town.

Johnny yelling in the background: “I would’ve gotten a fucking carriage if you would’ve waited five minutes-”

Finally, after the most running Doyoung’s done in years, he ends up at the front door of Honey Bee’s Buzzing Books, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to enter.

“Y/N? Y/N!”, he shouts into the seemingly empty store.

“Listen dude, you can’t come barging in here and start yelling”

For a fraction of a second, Doyoung feels a glimmer of hope, until he turns to the front desk and sees some boy instead of you there. He runs up the counter, regardless. Eyeing the boy’s name tag, Doyoung begins his frantic interrogation.

Doyoung: “Listen- is Renjun your name?”

Renjun: “Yeah, why else would I have ‘Renjun’ plastered across my chest?”

Doyoung: “Do you know where Y/N is?”

Renjun: “Home, like they should be. It’s their day off”

Doyoung bolts out the door, getting a whole four steps into the street before realizing he doesn’t know where you live.

He steps timidly back into the store, where Renjun is still sitting at the front desk with an all-knowing look plastered on his face.

Doyoung: “...would you happen to know their address?”

Renjun: “Of course, I’m their best friend. Would you like to know it?”

Doyoung: “Yes, please”

Renjun: “Then answer me one thing, Prince Doyoung. What’s your goal here? Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can go around breaking hearts”

Doyoung: “My feelings for them have nothing to do with this- I want to offer them a job as the Royal Literature Hall’s head librarian”

Renjun: “...are you serious right now?”

Doyoung: “I know that would mean taking them away from your bookshop and I’m really sorry about that but I need them-”

Renjun: “No- you don’t understand. That is their dream job. You have to go tell them!”

Doyoung: “Really? I had no idea”

Renjun: “Well what are you doing just standing there! Go get them!”, he orders, scribbling your address onto a sticky note and sticking it to Doyoung’s forehead.

Doyoung: “Thank you!”, he shouts to the now gleeful Renjun, grabs the note off his bangs and bolts out the door.

Meanwhile...

A few blocks from the book shop, you’re having a lazy day at home, oblivious to the prince’s distress, and to his feelings for you.

The knocking at your door startles you into dropping the book you were reading. You have no clue who's on the other side but by the way they're slamming on the door, you're afraid they'd break it off its hinges. And paying for that to be fixed was the last thing you wanted to do.

You swing open the door, rubbing your eyes due to having just been woken up.

You: “Renjun, should you be at-”

“I'm not Renjun”

You stop rubbing your eyes and look up to the last person you expect- Prince Doyoung.

You drag him inside, preaching a mini-lecture on how “you should at least bring an umbrella if you’re stupid enough to go out during a storm like this”

And oh boy, he looks at you like you’re a whole other species.

You: “What??”

Doyoung: “No it’s just… no one’s ever really nagged me other than Johnny. I’m not used to it”

You: “Well save it Prince Dreamy, I’m not used to princes making a wet mess of my home”, you clap back and go to get him something dry to wear.

Stepping back into the front room, you find the prince of this nation awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

“Here, go change into this”, you say, tossing him some oversized clothes you happen to have lying around.

He mumbles his thanks as you point out the bathroom for him to change in.

Him stripping down in the middle of your living room wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world as far as you’re concerned, but you figure you’ll save him the embarrassment.

While he’s getting out of those drenched clothes, you get to work brewing some tea and getting out whatever suitable snacks you have in the pantry.

By the time he steps out, you’ve got the table set with some sweets, at least, but the tea’s still not ready just quite yet.

You: “You sure took your time. What did you do, go through my medicine cabinet to make sure I’m not some kind of spy?”

Doyoung: “How would me looking through your medicine cabinet give me any kind of inkling of your loyalty to this country? And no, I was trying and failing to dry my hair”

You: “Oh sorry, I didn’t think of that. Gimme a second”, you say and scurry down the hall to get a towel.

The last thing you need is to be beheaded because the crown prince caught a cold on your watch.

You chuck a fluffy, pink towel at the prince, hitting him straight in the face.

...whoops

You: “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! My aim is terrible”

Doyoung: “It’s fine, really. I didn’t come here to recruit you as an archer or anything”, he says as the two of you take a seat at the table.

You: “Yeah about that- why did you come here? I don’t recall giving you an address, but you’re the prince so I guess you have a heightened stalking capabilities”

Doyoung: “I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy, I just have something important to ask you”

You: “Ah, I see. Well I hate to break it to you, but you should at least take me on a few dates before proposing. I’ll have to respectfully decline”

Doyoung: “Haha, very funny. In all seriousness, though, I would like you to come work at the castle. Work for me, that is”

You: “As what, a servant? Baker? Seamstress? Oh gosh please not a seamstress, I haven’t sewed anything in years and even then it was… tragic to say the least”

Doyoung: “I want you to work in the Royal Literature Hall as a librarian. You’d still have down time to write and if you don’t know how the Dewey Decimal system works, I’m sure Johnny could teach you. Actually, Johnny wouldn’t know but Taeyong probably does”

You: “...”

Doyoung: “So… what do you say?”

You: “Pardon my language your Royal Dreaminess, but are you fucking with me right now? Is this a joke?”

Doyoung: “I’m completely serious. That would be a pretty cruel joke”

You: “Okay then yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes! Oh my gosh, when can I come to the castle?”

Just then, you hear frantic knocking at the door yet again.

You: “Did you bring friends?”

Doyoung: “My friends live in the other kingdoms or the castle so... most likely no”

You and Doyoung creep quietly over to the door, cautious of who else would show up at night in the middle of a storm.

Unlocking the door, you swing it open just enough for the two of you to peer through the sliver of space.

You: “Oh. Hi Mr. Butler, sir!”

You open the door all the way and let in the peeved and drenched guy. You’re just glad he’s pissed at Prince Doyoung and not you. Wouldn’t wanna be on the receiving end of that angry look.

Johnny: “Prince Doyoung, just because you are royalty doesn’t mean that you can disregard time and even more so- curfews. They still apply, regardless of your status, wouldn’t you agree, Y/N?”

You: “Ah… of course? When I was younger, I never broke curfew for fear of… well... a situation like this”

Doyoung: “I’ve just offered you your dream job, shouldn’t you side with me on this?”

Johnny: “Bribery is never appropriate, Prince Doyoung. Plus, the carriage is waiting for the both of you”

You: “Both of us?”

Johnny: “Yes, both of you. We can come back for your essential belongings tomorrow, but for now, the place you’re needed most is the castle. Am I assuming wrong about your reply to the Prince’s proposition?”

You: “Oh no, of course I’ve accepted- don’t worry about that! I just didn’t expect to be leaving so soon. I’ve got a few things I’d really like to bring tonight though.

Doyoung: “Whatever we can fit into the carriage should be fine”

The two boys help you pack the carriage with stuff and by the time you’re finished, there’s only just enough room for you and the Prince on one side.

Johnny reluctantly leaves the two of you by yourselves and takes his place as driver of the carriage, leading the horses on the mildly bumpy road back to the castle.

By this point in time, the storm has died down to only the smallest drizzle, the sound of rain being more soothing than its previous hectic plundering.

You’re not sure if it’s because it’s been a long day for you both, or the physical closeness of the two of you, but Doyoung seems suddenly quite shy of you.

Not wanting to say anything to make him even more uncomfortable, your attention stays on your stuff, making sure none get knocked over on the occasional bump in the road. Doyoung, however, is the one who breaks the silence.

Doyoung: “I loved your book”

You: “My what?”

Doyoung: “Your book. Shimmerlight. It’s very well written, I’m baffled to even begin to try and imagine how you came up with the plot”

You: “Ah, I could tell you, but that’d ruin all the fun. Some things are better left a mystery”

Doyoung: “Yeah, I guess so…”, he says, not even trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

You: “I can tell you a dumb story Renjun told me the other day?”

Doyoung: “Well I just have to hear that”

The amount of time that passes is a mystery, seemingly lasting forever and coming to an end all too quickly.

For Prince Doyoung though, it probably felt like a few minutes, seeing as the sleepless boy dozes off on you about half way through the part where the story gets dumb.

It’s a good thing that he was out cold when he dozed off, his cheek nuzzling into your soft hair, otherwise he’d definitely be able to hear your heart pounding a mile a minute.

Does he even know he has this effect on you? Probably not.

“He likes me for my books”, you remind yourself out loud as the carriage comes to a stop at the front gate of the castle.

“I like you for you too, you beautiful idiot”, he mumbles sleepily, having just woken up.

Your mind frantically searches for something coherent to say back but fails. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because Prince Doyoung opens the carriage door and not-so-gracefully tumbles onto the dirt road.

“Oh shit”, you curse, flinging yourself out of the same door and crouching next to the boy laying on the ground. Johnny is quick to notice and hops down from his position at the reigns and asks what happened.

You: “”I don’t know, he just fell and- oh my gosh he’s got a fever”, you report, your palm feeling the heat and sweat coming off his forehead.

Johnny: “Of course he would get sick, having not slept well in weeks and frolicking through a thunderstorm”, he says with a sigh.

You: “What do you mean he’s not been sleeping? With his responsibilities, he should be resting as much as he can!”

Johnny: “That’s exactly the problem, dear, but right now we’ve got more pressing matters on our hands. I can’t just leave the carriage and horses here, so I’ll need you to take his Royal Highness to his room. Once you’re in the main corridor, it’s the hall on the right and then the third door to the right. Try not to be seen, he won’t want his parents to know about him going into town, they don’t approve of it. Here’s my butler’s pin- if anyone questions your authority, show them that pin and explain that you’re under direct orders from me, understood?”, he explains, placing the pin gently in your hand.

Before you can even respond, he’s back at the reigns and taking off to what you assume is the direction of the stables.

After ten minutes of arguing with the semi-conscious Prince, you convince him to stand, one of his muscular arms swung across your shoulders.

Lugging him through halls, getting horrendously lost, and hiding from every scary looking guard you see, it takes you even longer to get to his room, but you eventually find your way there.

You open the elegant oak door what you hope with all your might is his room, and thank all the deities that there are candles lit from earlier, allowing you to be able to see the path to his bed.

Knowing your own clumsiness and exhaustion, running into a chair in the dark and dropping the ill Prince wouldn’t be out of the question.

Plopping him down on his bed, the weight of him being way too much at this point, you look around the room, searching for something to signify that you have the right place.

It only takes one glance to the bedside table to find what you’re looking for- your book, opened to the page with your signature.

A smile comes to your face briefly, until he breaks into a coughing fit and your mind goes back into somewhat of a panic.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you mutter to yourself as you take off Prince Doyoung’s shoes and struggle to get all of his lanky limbs under the covers.

Doyoung: “You know… you swear a lot for someone so polite”, he laughs, not even letting his feverish state stop him from poking fun at you.

You: “Arguably, I’ve never been under more stress in my life, so I think I have earned that right”, you say, coming back to him with a freshly wet washcloth in your hands.

Doyoung: “Don’t worry- it’s not a bad thing. It’s actually really cute”

And there goes the washcloth out of your hands. Right onto the floor.

Making the trip of shame back to the bathroom to get another washcloth, you cautiously make your way back over to his bedside, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

There’s not really much you can do other than put the clean washcloth over his forehead, so you try to get up, but the Prince’s clammy hand grabs a weak hold of your wrist.

Doyoung: “Please… please don’t leave”, he says with enough desperation to pull at every emotion you have.

“I’m falling for you way faster than I imagined I would”, is what you want to say, knowing that he probably won’t remember in the morning, but ultimately decide that it’s not worth the risk.

You: “Don’t worry, I’ll stay. Of course I’ll stay”

Doyoung: “Would you mind reading to me? I think it’ll-”, he starts, but breaks off into another coughing fit.

Seeing him like this is breaking your heart into a million pieces, so you reach over for your book on the nightstand and settle in next to him under the covers.

You: “Where do you want me to start?”, you ask, hoping your tone isn’t conveying all of your feelings.

Doyoung: “From the beginning, of course”

And that’s how Johnny finds the two of you once he’s finished at the stables. Both in bed, you lying on your back with your book covering your face, and Prince Doyoung on his side with his arm thrown over your waist.

Johnny would break up the “inappropriate behavior”, but this is the first time in too long that the Prince’s face hasn’t been tense in his sleep. For once he’s actually relaxed and resting well.

And the clever butler’s got more than just an inkling that it’s got everything to do with you.

Waking up that next morning is… startling, to say the least.

With Prince Doyoung’s face nuzzled into your shoulder, close enough to feel his breath on your skin, and no personal recollection of how you got there, you just lay there with him, heart pounding out of your chest like it always does around him.

Slowly but surely, last night’s memories trickle back into mind, you recalling the whole “come be my librarian and write stories in your down time” and the carriage ride, and dragging the sick Prince around the castle.

And of course- how sad he looked when he thought you would leave.

Shivering a little bit, you block that thought out of mind. You should be excited! New job, new opportunities, new place and- oh my gosh you haven’t told Renjun.

Of course, the Prince decides to wake up in your brief moment of panic.

Doyoung: “What’s wrong?”, he mumbles groggily into your ear, making you tense up at his closeness.

You: “It’s- It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. More importantly how are you feeling?”, you ask, sitting up and putting your hand over his forehead. His fever’s gone down, but it’s not completely gone.

Doyoung: “Well I’ve not fallen over so far today, so that’s a personal accomplishment”

You: “You’ve been awake for all of thirty seconds and you haven’t even made an effort to get up”

Doyoung: “Sleeping with me and then making snarky remarks- I see how you feel”

You: “It wasn’t my goal to- I normally wouldn’t….”, you start but drone off into flustered silence.

Getting out of bed, you tell the sleepy Prince that you’re going to go find some medicine for his fever and that you’ll be right back.

He makes a point to open his eyes and look into yours, as if he’s searching for some hint of dishonesty, and he blinks a few times in surprise when he finds none.

Doyoung: “Alright. Good luck navigating the halls”

You: “It should be easier now that it’s day time and everything’s light”

Doyoung: “With you here, even nights seem more light”

You shoot him an embarrassed glare before fumbling with the door handle and exiting the room.

You get about a good twenty steps down the hallway before being stopped by a guard.

“Excuse me but who are you? What business do you have in this castle”

You: “Oh, well. I'm Y/N, and the prince is feeling under the weather so I was looking for an infirmity? Or anywhere I might be able to find something for his fever”

“Wait, you're Y/N?! Like the Prince’s Y/N?”

You: “Uhhh I’m not exactly his property but I’d consider us friends…?”

“Yikes. Friendzoned and not even to his face…”

You: “What?? Also what is your name if you don’t mind me asking”

“Taeyong. Lee Taeyong. And we have a medic on staff at all times, you should be able to get something for fevers from her”

You: “Okay, thank you Taeyong”, you say and begin to walk away, thinking the conversation’s over.

Taeyong: “One last thing, though! Can you please let me know when he’s well again?

You: “Of course! I’ll keep you updated as much as I can”

Taeyong: “Wow, you really are like he’s said”

You: “And what’s he said exactly?”

Taeyong: “That you’re caring and sweet. Take good care of him, alright?”, he says nonchalantly, as if that wasn’t the biggest boost to your already too hopeful heart.

Power-walking your way to the infirmary, you shake of the feeling of Prince Doyoung’s lovableness creeping into your heart.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, and most of it’s a blur if you’re being quite honest with yourself. After retrieving the medicine from the complete opposite side of the castle, you make your way back to Doyoung’s room and instruct him on what to take and when.

From there, you spend the rest of the day following around the Head Librarian and learning the ropes of the job, where the book binding materials are, how to properly use the filing system, where each genre section is, and most importantly, where the prince’s workspace is and to “never interrupt his already permeable concentration”.

At Prince Doyoung’s request, the room across from his has been prepared for you to stay in and all your things have been brought there.

You fought him on it, saying that he was in no state to make that kind of decision, but he said that he wouldn’t want you anywhere else.

He won that argument, because all you could do after a statement like that is blush uncontrollably and flee.

Prince Doyoung with a fever is a lot more forward with his feelings than normal, bumbling Prince Doyoung.

And that was the other thing. Before you could escape to your room, Prince Doyoung asks for you to call him by his name without the title.

He’s the prince of this country though?? What right would you have to be so informal with him?

Well. You did sleep in his bed. With him in it.

You’re still unsure about it but at least he’s comfortable enough with you to ask that??

The next day when you report for duty, you’re shocked to see Prince Doyoung- well, Doyoung, at his workspace, with a worried looking Johnny looming behind him as always.

Disregarding what the head librarian told you yesterday, you walk right up to Doyoung.

He looks away from the mountain of papers on the table to meet your gaze, and the tired, far away look in his eyes is almost too much to bear.

Doyoung: “Did you need something?”

You: “Yeah, I need the prince of our country to live to see the end of the week. What are you doing out of bed?”

Doyoung: “This needs to get done, it’s doesn’t matter if I-”

You: “Doesn’t matter if you what? Faint again? Can you even stand right now?”

Doyoung: “I can stand, I can even walk!”

Turning to Johnny, you give him the “what actually is the situation” look.

Johnny: “Your royal highness, I did have to practically carry you half of the way here”

You: “Then carry him back. Right now”

Doyoung: “And who are you to be making such orders?”, he says with a harsher tone than you’ve ever heard him use before.

You: “If you refuse to take care of yourself, who else do you think will?”, you say quietly, your feelings clearly hurt.

At first you think you may have gone to far with saying that, because he snaps his head away from you and stares at all the papers and documents he needs to read.

But then he stands up, and with some help from Johnny, makes his way back to his room and back to bed.

He does all this without a word, and without even the slightest glance in your direction.

Pissing off the person who hired you isn’t what you wanted to happen on your first day on the job, especially when that person is someone you really care about.

He’s not well enough to be working on his own like this… but maybe he doesn’t have to do all the work himself.

You gather up all the documents you can carry and take them to Doyoung’s room.

Your hands are full… so you kind of kick the door instead of knocking and hope he gets the idea.

From your place in the hallway, you can hear shuffling and movement from inside the room, and finally, he opens the door.

Blinking multiple times, he just stares at you wide-eyed.

You: “So are you gonna let me in or….?”

Doyoung: “Oh yeah, of course umm- about earlier…”, he starts and moves out of the doorway, ushering you into the room.

Plopping yourself down in the cushy chair by the window, you look up to him to show that you’re listening.

Doyoung: “I’ve been… stressed out. To say the least. All these papers of things I need to know to be a good king someday and it’s just been eating away at me. So I haven’t been sleeping much- my mind is always on something. So reading your books and listening to you has helped with that so of all the people for me to be rude to of course my dumb ass was rude to you… what I’m trying to say is that I’m really sorry. I know you were just trying to look out for me”

You: “Don’t worry about it, I could’ve been more tactful in my approach as well. But I’ve got these!”, you say, lifting the stupidly heavy papers off your lap.

Doyoung: “Are those my…?”

You: “Yep! I brought these so I could help you go through them”

Doyoung: “Wow, you’re an angel”

You: “I wouldn’t go that far?? Aha it’s not that much really, I uh- here’s one on the castle’s construction, let’s start there”

And so that’s exactly what the two of you do for the next several days. Doyoung lays in bed and you skim through the documents, telling him the important parts, which he writes down. When he gets worn out, you take breaks and bring him tea and cold medicine.

One morning you even wake up early to go down to the kitchens and bake cookies to surprise him with, and oh boy- he smiles so wide his gums show and his eyes crinkle and you think your heart might e x p l o d e with absolute adoration for this boy.

When he’s fully recovered, the two of your stop your little routine and you go back to the Literature Hall to work and he goes back to his workspace to fuss over crop rotations and blah blah blah.

You make sure to ask Johnny to let Taeyong and the rest of the guard know of Doyoung’s wellbeing

The head librarian get’s pissy with you every time you go over to Doyoung to bring him snacks and drinks but you do it anyway, lol some lady ain’t gonna stop you.

In a big ass library like this that’s pretty much limited to royalty and nobles who would rather be out partying than checking out books, it’s easy to get bored.

Your job is to maintain the books but there’s not much to maintain if no one takes them off the shelves.

With so much free time during your shifts, you find yourself spending most of your time working on a new romance novel that you started the day after you met Doyoung coincidence I think absolutely n o t

It’s highkey about him.

So that’s what a day in the life is for you- writing and making sure Doyoung eats and stays hydrated.

About a month later, when you bring him little goodies, you notice the bags under his eyes and his slouching posture. It’s clear that he hasn’t been sleeping well, but it’s not like he can just stop worrying either.

Saying “hey man, don’t worry about it, it’s just the fate of the country!” won’t exactly help and you’re clear outta ideas. But it can’t hurt it ask, can it?

You: “Umm… Doyoung?”, you say timidly. Even though he told you to, you hadn’t called him by just his name yet, but you try it thinking it might cheer him up.

He whips his head to the side and has the most “???” happy look on his face.

You: “Do you want to take a break? I mean you’ve been at this for hours and-”

From his seated position, he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in the warmth of your sweater.

You: “Is that a yes??”

He nods with his face still on you abdomen, making you laugh.

“Okay then, let’s go”, you say and pry his arms off of you, leading him out of the literature hall by his hand, almost like you would a child.

You lead him to his room and tell him to go take a nap, but as you’re about to turn and leave, he grabs your hand again.

Doyoung: “I know this is a lot to ask but… listening to you talk seems to be the only thing that helps me get to sleep so would you mind reading me something?”

You: “Of course! What do you want me to read?”

Doyoung: “What about that new book you’re writing? You’ve yet to tell me anything about it”

You: “I- uh. Yes, I can read you what I have so far, just let me go get it…”

He goes into his room and you go into yours across the hall to get the book and oH goSH how did you get yourself into this one?

Let’s just hope he doesn’t banish you from the country when he hears your feelings for him because you can bet this book is full of them.

Or maybe he’ll be too tired to really pick up on it??

Either way, you make your way back into his room to see him on one side of the bed instead of his usual spot aka taking up the damn whole thing.

You: “Are we doing this again?”

Doyoung: “I mean you can stand if you want to but that seems pretty uncomfortable”

Sighing and smiling a little, you climb into bed next to him, painfully aware of the small amount of space between the two of you, and start reading.

It’s not long before his eyes flutter shut and his breathing becomes more slow and rhythmic.

“I’ll finish this paragraph and then duck out”, you think to yourself.

You: “he’s already woven himself through my every heartstring. I’m afraid if he leaves my heart will be left with nothing but holes and the emptiness filling-”

Doyoung: “I… won’t”, you think you hear him say.

You: “I- are you awake?”

Doyoung: “I said I won’t. I won’t leave you so you don’t have to worry”, he half says/half mumbles and throws and arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

You’re at a loss for words, not believing that this could actually be happening.

Doyoung: “You do realize that I’m in love with you too, right?”, he whispers into your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You: “Well I do now… and aren’t you a little cocky to assume my book is about you”

Doyoung: “You call him dreamy. You called me dreamy. It’s not that hard to put the two together”

You: “That’s on like the second page! You’ve just been letting me go on and on about how much I love you for what? Shits and giggles?”

Doyoung: “So you do? Love me?”

You: “Of course I do, I wouldn’t be worrying over you if I didn’t”

Doyoung: “You don’t need to worry about me so much”

You: “And you don’t need to worry about the country so much. You don’t have to do it alone, and you need to give the people more credit for being able to function without the meddling hands of royalty”

Doyoung: “Hey, these meddling hands are yours to hold~”

You: “One more cheesy line and I’m fleeing the country”

Doyoung: “Hmph, and you call me dramatic”

The two of you stay like that for a while, chatting about this and that, and eventually drifting off to a much needed sleep.

Johnny is unsurprised by the news of you two dating.

Johnny: “With that amount of flirting, I’d be more shocked if something didn’t happen”

You write to Renjun telling him about all that’s happened, and he quickly replies that “I know he’s the Prince but you could still do better”

Being the significant other of the Prince is??? Not something your brain can really comprehend.

Being the significant other of Doyoung, however- that makes a lot more sense.

You don’t really see him as “Prince Dreamy” like the girls in town faun over him. He’s more like “my clumsy boyfriend who cares to much about everything and needs to take a break”

But heyyyy that’s what you’re here for- to remind him to take care of himself and to put himself first.

The staff around the castle have really noticed a shift in his mood. He walks through the halls with his shoulders high, and he smiles and waves to everyone like he did when he was younger.

And boo we all know it’s because of you.

And lastly- he has to move his workplace to somewhere outside of the Royal Literature Hall because you’re too distracting and he can’t focus with you around. He just wants to bother you and love you instead of doing his work.

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sandstonesunspear · 6 years

Text

Anniversary

Sanvers, Alex-centric

Found a prompt chart for Pride Month and figured I’d try my hand at it. I’m a day behind because life. Parings are random.

AO3

Alex had started planning hers and Maggie’s first wedding anniversary months ago. She had it all planned out: she was going to take Maggie to Verdant Garden, an upscale vegan/vegetarian menu that Maggie had said she wanted to try, go for a walk around town, and then finish the night off making love with her wife. Alex had even gone as so far to put in forms for 24 hours worth of leave so that she could have the night and following day with Maggie.

All that planning was why, when a rookie agent announced that there would be nothing to worry about because it was going to be an easy night, Alex nearly decked him.

“What did you just say, Schmidt?” Alex asked, her voice dangerously low.

“Uh, I said that it was going to be a pretty chill night,” he said. “I mean, there’s no one on our radar and—”

“Schmidt,” Alex interrupted. “Stop talking. Right. Now.”

His brow furrowed in confusion before he took a look at the faces of his fellow agents. They all looked torn between wanting to kill him or cry. He clammed up.

Alex sighed. “Alright people, call your partners, significant others, or what have you,” she said. “We’re in for a long night.”

“Agent Danvers, I don’t understand what’s going on,” Schmidt started. “There’s nothing—”

He found himself cut off by a fist to the face that produced a loud, meaty thwack with a small crunching sound underneath. His body hit the ground with a thump. He was out.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to see Vasquez shaking out their hand. They looked extremely unhappy.

“Erin flies in tonight,” they said when they noticed everyone’s eyes on them. “I was planning on picking her up from the airport.”

Nods of understanding were shared.

Alex looked down at the fallen agent and then to Vasquez. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Alright, Demos, get Schmidt to the medbay,” she said tiredly. “Vasquez, go down to R&D and have them scan your hand to make sure you didn’t break anything and then get it stitched up.”

She looked at the rest of her agents. “The rest of you, grab your gear and make sure you’re ready to move at the first—”

Klaxons began blaring.

“Sound of an alarm,” she finished before let out a harsh breath. “Let’s move!”

“One Kordovan my left nonexistent nut!” Alex heard Vasquez yelling angrily through the comms, over the sounds of thunder rifles and the occasional grenade explosion.

Alex shared that anger. Intel had said that there was a rampaging Kordovan down by the docks. What they had failed to mention was that it wasn’t just one Kordovan, it was a pack of them. That information disconnect was what led to their current situation.

Alex and her team were pinned behind shipping containers as they worked to contain the pack. It wasn’t working. Bullets deflected from their hides and full powered shots from Alex’s space gun only seemed to make them angrier.

Alex fired off another shot and then dove for cover as a meter long spike was launched her way.

“Anyone know what’s in these shipping containers?” she yelled into her helmet mic.

“Uh, let’s see,” Winn said. “Cars, lumber, and oh shit.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Oh shit? What do you mean by oh shit?” Alex demanded.

A loud, earthshaking explosion rocked the docks. Alex glanced over her shoulder.

“Winn, please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.”

“If you’re thinking that it was about a thousand gallons of oil that just went up, then yeah, it was.”

Alex thunked her head against container.

“Wonderful.”

Three hours later, Alex and her team were limping back into the National City headquarters. It had taken an intervention an improvised rocket launcher made out of an Audi (how exactly Vasquez had managed to make it while under fire was beyond anyone’s understanding), but the Kordovan pack was finally secured. The dock was a smouldering ruin, but no one was dead, so Alex was going to mark it down as a win for tonight.

“Anderson, go with Demos and make sure the Kordovans are checked in,” Alex ordered tiredly. “The rest of you, feel free to get cleaned up or just head to the medbay.”

Multiple, “Yes, ma’am’s” rang out before everyone went their separate ways.

Alone in the locker room, Alex finally collapsed onto the bench with a groan. She pulled her phone from her vest and checked it over. She winced when she saw the number of notifications she had. There were two missed calls from Verdant Green, no doubt letting her know that she’d missed the reservation. Alex could feel her mood plumet even further when she saw that she had 6 missed calls from Maggie and a bevy of texts to boot.

Sry I missed your call, was in interrogation. Don’t worry about the reservations, I’ll see you at home :)

I just saw the news, are you still on sight?

P sure I saw Vas on the news. Was that a rocket launcher? When ur back, them I want one.

Alex smiled when she saw the last text Maggie sent. It was a running joke between the two of them.

“Glad to see you’re still in one piece, Danvers,” a voice said.

Alex startled, hand going for her gun. She blinked with she saw Maggie leaning against the doorway to the DEO locker rooms with a bag of takeout in her hands.

Alex cleared her throat. “Actually, it’s Danvers-Sawyer,” she corrected, a cheeky grin crossing her lips. She tilted her head. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, babe, but I thought you’d be at home?”

Maggie gave her wife a look. “I saw the news, Alex,” she said. “If you honestly thought I was going to wait at home, then you need to go to the medbay and get your head checked.”

Alex had the decency to look slightly abashed.

Maggie pushed off the doorway. “I figured that since we didn’t make those reservations at Verdant Green, I might as well bring dinner to you.” She straddled the bench across from Alex and pulled out the boxes of food. She handed Alex a pair of chopsticks.

Alex took them and opened a box of orange chicken. “I’m sorry that I made us miss the reservations,” she apologised.

“Don’t be, I’m a cop, Alex, I get it.” Maggie gave Alex a lopsided grin that showed off her dimples. “It happens.”

Alex stabbed a piece of chicken. “Yeah, well, it’s all Schmidt’s fault,” she grumbled.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Schmidt, the new kid?” she asked. Alex nodded. “What’d he do?”

“Said tonight was going to be an easy night. Asshole.” Alex had a scowl on her face just thinking about it.

“Ah.” Maggie understood that all too well. “Well, it did have at least one positive outcome.”

“Yeah?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Maggie took a bite of her lo mein. “I got to have a date with you in full tactical gear.” Her smiled turned positively salacious. “Have to say, Agent Danvers-Sawyer, you look hot in it.”

Alex could feel her turning red. Even after all their time together, Maggie still had the uncanny ability to make her blush with ease.

Maggie chuckled and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against Alex’s lips before she could say anything in response.

“Happy anniversary, Alex,” she murmured.

Alex smiled. She pressed her forehead against Maggie’s. “Happy anniversary, Maggie.”

#sanvers #Alex Danvers #maggie sawyer #supergirl #my writing #not sure how I feel about the ending tbh

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asgardian-light · 6 years

Text

If You Insist (Part 2)

Second part of the Pride Month mini fic.

Enjoy! :)

If You Insist (Part 2)

"...I don't know...what I am..." Robbie's voice is weak and low and utterly sad "...How I am... Why I am? I don't...even know how to formulate it..."

Sportacus carefully wraps a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and very gently strokes his back through it. This time the inventor doesn't wince at his touch. He leans into it. Sportacus is just as happy as unsettled by this. "Maybe...you mean WHO you are?" he suggests softly. Robbie shrugs weakly and stares at the trees ahead "I don't know..." Now the hero hands him a cup of tea and the villain accepts this just as unresisting as the blanket before and the hero's guidance to sit down on the opened door of the airship. "You need some rest, Robbie. Maybe then..."

"No," now the inventor turns his head to look at the hero and sadly shakes his head "I've been trying to find out since...since I can remember... Sleep won't help anything."

"I see... But it will help you to calm down a little. You're...exhausted," reasons the hero softly. Robbie just stares at him for over one minute. Then he asks carefully "You were not...just making fun of me, were you?..."

"Of course not. I already told you. I would NEVER make fun of you! Least of all when you're in obvious...distress," Sportacus carefully sits down next to the other now. Not too close because he doesn't want to scare him off again. The villain nods very slowly, then he sighs softly and looks at the cup in his hands, murmuring "I didn't know that there are...parties and...celebrations...and even a whole month for... For people that aren't...normal..."

"Normal?" Sportacus furrows his brows "But of course these people are 'normal'! Being not 'straight' or 'according to cliche' doesn't make one 'abnormal' in any way!"

"I guess you...have to say that...since you're a hero..."

"One got nothing to do with the other, Robbie. This is my personal belief. To me, we're all the same. No matter ethic, no matter religion, no matter age, no matter gender, no matter sexual or romantic orientation. We're all the same. And we're all DIFFERENT. And that is GOOD," the hero's voice is calm and gentle but firm. Robbie eyes him for a moment then he murmurs "...All the same...and all different... That's..." a very faint smile washes over his lips "...That's...nice to hear..."

Sportacus feels happy at seeing the inventor smile, albeit just for a second. The next three minutes Robbie is sipping his tea in silence and his rival is just watching him, sitting perfectly still next to him during this.

"Maybe...I should've broken down sooner if I had known that it will stop your endless jumping and moving..." another very weak smile and a soft blush. The hero chuckles "Maybe. But I'd rather see you smile than cry and collapse on the ground, Robbie." The other blushes even more at hearing this and starts to fumble with the half full cup in his hands, stuttering "I... Uhm... M-May I...a-ask you...something...personal, Sportafl- Sportacus? You don't have to answer of course if..."

"Robbie," interrupts the hero gently and very carefully rests his hand on the villain's badly shaking one "You can ask me anything. And I promise to be honest with you." Robbie feels as if he's starting to sweat again at the hero's touch, but instead his body grows even colder and he reflexively pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders with one hand. "I... You... I-I...wanted to ask you...whether... I mean if... D-Do you..." the inventor's head starts spinning. "Hey..." Sportacus notices his uneasiness and first takes the cup from his shaking hand, puts it aside and then gently wraps an arm around him "Shush. Easy, Robbie. It's okay. Just take a deep breath and then ask ahead. I promise I won't be angry, no matter what you ask."

"R-Really? D-Do you...swear?"

"I swear."

"O-Okay..." Robbie takes a shaky breath in, closes his eyes and mumbles quickly "Doyouknowwhoyou'reattractedto?" then he quickly hides his face behind the blanket. Sportacus blinks slowly "I'm...sorry... What..."

"You don't have to answer, I told you! I..."

"No, no! That's not it! I just... I didn't understand a word, Robbie," admits the hero gently and softly strokes his back "Could you repeat your question? And this time maybe...a little slower?" The other blushes furiously and shakes his head no. "Robbie. I can't help you...nor answer your questions if I don't understand what you're saying. Come on. You really don't have to be afraid..."

Robbie takes another deep breath in. He knows that his rival is right of course. "Do you... Do you know...who you're...attracted to? I... I mean...w-whether...it's..."

"Whether I like men or women?" helps the hero softly with a very light smile. The inventor lowers his eyes and nods weakly. "Yes. But...I needed very long to find out. In fact..."

"You may needed long but I...I STILL don't know!" cries Robbie now lowly and the next second, without really realizing it, buries his face in the hero's shoulder. Sportacus softly starts stroking the back of his head now and murmurs "I didn't know until...about four years ago either..."

Robbie's next sob gets stuck in his throat. He pulls back and looks at the other with huge eyes "R-Really?"

"Really," the hero smiles softly "Not until I met...a certain someone... So maybe that you don't know for sure yet only means that...you haven't met YOUR special someone yet." He's glad that he managed to cover the tiny disappointed tremble in his own voice at this last sentence. Robbie blushes lightly and starts fumbling with the rim of the blanket "I'm not...even sure whether I... Whether I'm happy with...what I am..." his voice breaks, he blushes even worse and tries to hide from the hero's soft eyes somehow. Why do they HAVE to be this gentle and blue and clear anyway?! And then what he said... That he found out about his own...tendency just four years ago... That's... That's the period he's in LazyTown already, isn't it?! So...did the hero find his special person...here? But who could that be? Surely not Bessie or Milford!? And he hardly gets in contact with any other grownups... Maybe the chef that visited the town once?! Oh, hopefully not! Or...did he find someone at his home...wherever heroes come from? And then he had to leave to go to LazyTown?! That would be...

Robbie internally shakes his head. Why does he care? Asking him...would surely be impolite anyway... And what is this strange feeling again?

"Robbie?"

"H-Hm?"

"Are you...all right?"

"Y-Yeah... Yeah."

"But you don't look all right..." states Sportacus carefully and raises his hand to feel the other's forehead. Thereby he wonders whether Robbie suddenly appears so pale and even more shaky...because he understood. Did he realize who the hero was referring to when he said he found his special someone? Is that why he appears so stressed and...worked up out of a sudden? Did he...even scare him? If he isn't even sure who he's attracted to maybe Sportacus' answer about his own attraction unnerves him even more...

"Sport...acus..." rasps Robbie suddenly lowly. He's frozen at the touch of the hero and is now staring at the hand feeling his temperature. "Hm?" torn out of his own thoughts and fears, Sportacus blinks slowly and then finally realizes what he's doing "Sorry! I just wanted to make sure that you have no fever! You... You don't. If at all...you're rather..."

"...cold..." finishes the inventor and follows the pulled back hand of the other with his eyes. "...Yes..." the hero feels even more nervous now "I'm sorry. I know you don't like to...get touched... It was just..."

"...an impulse," finishes the other his sentence once more and smiles very weakly and shyly "I...know... It's... It's okay...I guess..."

Sportacus blinks slowly and nods, then he blushes a little and needs a moment to focus on Robbie's problem again, not on his own...feelings or whatever...

"Sportacus..."

"Hm?"

"Would it be...impolite to ask...how you...found out that...you are... U-Uhm... Whatever you...are?" the inventor literally pulls the blanket over his head now, wishing he could take back what he just asked. Sportacus smiles softly although he feels even more nervous because he fears to unsettle the other with his answer. But he promised him to be honest. Gently he pulls the cover off Robbie's head and replies calmly "I felt my heartbeat picking up and like I had to do a million flips out of excitement the moment I saw...him. That's when I knew."

"Him..." echoes the villain under his breath. So it's the chef, isn't it?... He feels the strange feeling in his stomach taking over the rest of his body and swallows hard. "Y-Yes..." Sportacus sees at once that he's actually unnerved the other with this statement "But I-I would never..."

"It's okay," Robbie's voice is small and close to a sob "You don't have to apologize. I... I understand..."

Does he?

Both men ask themselves this question.

Minutes of heavy, almost burning silence pass.

Then the hero reminds himself of his task: saving and helping people. And he swallows his regrets and self-reproaches and starts again in a calm, soft voice "You said that you are not sure whether you're happy with what you are... Can you...maybe explain this further? What do you...feel exactly that hints that you're...unhappy with the way you are?"

Robbie sniffs lowly and tries to fight the feeling in his stomach...and heart, then he shrugs and almost whispers "I don't...know how to explain it... It's... W-When I wake up in the morning...if I could sleep at all before...I just feel so...strange... So...wrong... So...empty... and tired..."

"You feel...wrong?" A weak nod then a mumbled "I don't know how else to describe it... And I don't know what it...means..."

"Me neither..." admits the hero after a while lowly, then he gently, hesitatingly wraps an arm around his rival's shoulders "But I'd gladly try to help you find out... If you...let me and...feel comfortable with this thought..."

Robbie reflexively leans against the other's shoulder and blushes a little again. At his words he lifts a brow in mild surprise, but then he nods very weakly "...Yes... I... I would...like that..."

Sportacus can't help the soft, relieved sigh escaping him at his answer "Good! I already feared..." he quickly cuts himself off and instead asks "Do you... Do you want me to...leave you alone again now...or do you need anything?" The villain weakly shakes his head and murmurs shyly "Just...sit with me here for a little while longer, please... If you...can bare it..."

"With pleasure," Sportacus' soft reply leaves no doubt that he's meaning it. Robbie smiles lightly, closes his eyes and sighs softly. For once, he feels content and calm...and not so 'wrong'...

"...Do you...meet him sometimes?..."

"Who?" Sportacus looks at the other with slight puzzlement but doesn't interrupt his work to prepare some sandwiches. He's glad that Robbie eventually agreed to eat something since he really appeared like he didn't in about a week. And the hero wasn't so sure whether this isn't actually the case although after their talk and Sportacus' promise he already seemed to feel a lot better. But now he's nervously playing with the empty cup in his hands and shifting on the bed of the hero as if he couldn't bare to sit still another second. And his next words surprise the hero even more, especially since they're said with quite some spite "This...chef..."

"You mean Pablo?" now the hero does stop with his work and blinks slowly, utterly confused now. "Yeah...HIM..." Robbie is surprised about his own low growl and quickly looks aside again, unable to meet the hero's gaze. "Uhm... I..."

"That's none of my business. You're right. Sorry," adds the villain quickly with gritted teeth and suddenly stands up from the bed "That was a bad idea."

"What? Why..."

"I shouldn't be bothering you! I feel...so silly..." Robbie isn't aware of the tears gathering in his eyes but he turns to the door now "I'll go. Don't worry about..."

"Robbie!" Sportacus is once again flipping over to him to block his way, then he stares at him in disbelief "That's... Why... You... You didn't even eat anything! And you promised me you would!"

"I'm not hungry..." he fixes his eyes on the ground again while trying to walk around the other. But the hero won't let him "What is it out of a sudden? You appeared to feel better until now! What..."

"All this has been a big mistake. And I apologize for that! I just..."

"What mistake?!? And why are YOU apologizing!? I should be the one apologizing to YOU!"

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Because I upset you..."

"You're...not to blame for your...feelings, Sportacus..." Robbie's voice breaks and the tears start rolling now. "But I should've kept my mouth shut! I didn't mean to scare you, Robbie! Honestly! I..."

"Scare me?" now the other finally meets the hero's eyes again, his own reflecting hurt and confusion "I'm not...scared... Why would I be scared?"

"Because...of what I told you about my...feelings..." the hero lowers his eyes. Now Robbie feels stupid because he still doesn't understand what Sportacus is implying "You... It's... It's not your fault...when you...fall in love with someone..." it feels strange to be the one consoling the hero out of a sudden but the villain can't stand seeing the other this...upset with himself so he adds after a while with gritted teeth once again "And...you and...Pablo...fit together...rather...well, I guess... And he... He doesn't seem too bad of a choice... Considering that..."

"Wait, what?!" Sportacus suddenly grabs Robbie's shoulder with one hand and stares at him as if the other just said he'd plan a second trip to the moon before he finally understands "You... Y-You think...me and...him... That I..."

"Who else if not him?!" Robbie returns the look the same way "I mean... I didn't know that you...met anybody else..."

"Oh, ROBBIE!" suddenly the hero bursts out in tears of laughter and leans on the inventor during this "ROBBIE! You... You got that COMPLETELY wrong!"

"...What?..." the inventor winces lightly. Is the other making fun of him after all?...

Sportacus quickly regains his composure again, his smile softens and he instinctively but incredible gently cups Robbie's cheek with one hand now "Robbie... I wasn't talking about Pablo. I wasn't even THINKING about him." The villain's eyes grow wide at the loving touch but he doesn't wince away "N-Not?"

"No."

"Then who..."

"I thought it was obvious..." Sportacus' smile softens even more and he carefully closes the last space between them, his eyes locking with Robbie's while his other hand now moves to grab one of the inventor's "I thought...you'd understand...that I was talking about my first day in LazyTown..."

Robbie's world starts to spin and he rasps almost as if his mind is doing a final desperate attempt to ignore the obvious again "The m-mayor?..."

"Robbie..." Sportacus' smile and voice grow lower and even milder and he squeezes his hand "You know whom I'm talking about..."

Robbie starts to shake badly "N-No...that...can't be..."

"It can. And it is," the hero starts to caress his cheek with his thumb now, incredible gently "I'm in love with you, Robbie. Since the first moment I saw you. And being able to say 'Hi' to you during these years always made my day..." suddenly his gaze drops a little and he pulls back again, remembering their talk before "But...if you don't feel the same way..."

"No! I mean yes!" Robbie reflexively grabs both his hands, keeping the one on his cheek steady while sniffing under tears "Yes, I do feel the same way, Sportacus! I just... I didn't know... I didn't understand... I... I still don't... But I... I WANT to! I WANT to love you! You're... You're all that I've got! The... The best that I've got..." he breaks up in a small hiccup and his vision blurs. The hero notices this "Easy, Robbie!" and gently but quickly lifts him up from the ground now and carries him over to the bed again, murmuring soothingly but with a few tears himself "Easy... I'm there. It's okay. You're okay..."

"Am I?" Robbie buries his face in the hero's shoulder and whimpers lowly "What could you do with a guy that isn't really sure whether he's...inside what he looks on the outside?... You shouldn't..."

"Robbie," interrupts Sportacus him gently "I love you because you're you. No matter what and who you are NOW and no matter what and who you'll chose to be in the future. I'll be there. I'll be with you. And I will love you. If you let me." The other nods very weakly against his shoulder and rasps "Yes... Yes, I'll...let you...but only if..."

"...Yes?..."

"...If you...are honest with me... Always. I... I don't want you to...suffer or...feel embarrassed because of me..." Robbie searches his ex-rival's eyes, once the hero gently seated him on the bed. Sportacus furrows his brows. The inventor can't help but look aside at this. It doesn't look that angry on the hero but rather...scolding... And his voice is as well, albeit still soft and calm "Don't ever say or think things like this again, Robbie. I could never feel embarrassed because of you! And the only thing that makes me suffer is seeing you sad or hurt!"

Robbie blushes a dark shade of red again but nods very shyly "Okay..."

Sportacus smiles satisfied and then softly strokes the other's cheek with his thumb again "Good. Then please let me coddle you up a little now. You need food and sleep. And I won't leave you unwatched for a single second until you got both!" Now the other smiles weakly "Really? Then I'm not sure whether I want to eat or sleep ever again..." The hero chuckles softly "That would collide with you not wanting to make me suffer. Because then you'd fall sick. And I couldn't bare with that. Never forget that," he bows down and plants a very soft kiss on the inventor's forehead, murmuring "But don't worry. I won't leave your side for longer than absolutely necessary though, my sweet, wonderful Robbie..."

Robbie closes his eyes at the kiss and these words and whispers under his breath in a happy, dreamy voice "...If you insist..."

End (and beginning for these two cuties)

#lazytown #pride month #sportarobbie #mild angst #imply of trans Robbie?#unhappy Robbie #fluff #support #Sportacus #Robbie Rotten

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