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oldkiiroi · 4 years

Text

Title: Gentle Mornings

Characters: Saerys ☓ Mc, Ryland and mentions of Reiner and Iseul.

Words: 1402

Type: Fluff

Information: This is set in season 2, a long time before he got his long hair.

I gradually opened my eyes, as the sun peered through the window. I glanced upwards to see Saerys looking down at me with half lidded eyes.

"Why hello there." Saerys groaned, "Come here often?" He smirked as he arched his eyebrow.

'Hot'

"Ha ha very funny." I mumbled still half asleep. I could get use to seeing his face every morning when I first wake up.

I cuddled up against his chest in an attempt to keep warm, 'Seriously, why did I have to get transported to a world where they don't have heating AND coffee'.

"Did you sleep well?" He whispered as his lips faintly pressed against my forehead.

Before I could answer a knock was heard at the door. Much to my disappointment Saerys had to get up to answer it. I let out a little whine at the loss of my personal heater. Which he seemed to find quite amusing judging by his raised lip.

'Wow, I'm glad one of us find my immense suffering funny'

I watched as he walked towards his door to answer it.

Surely enough, as he opened the door I could hear the sound of Rylands voice.

'Wow, cock blocked'

"Good morning Master Saerys, I hope that you slept well." he said, he then followed up with "I regret to inform you but Lord Reiner will not be joining you all at breakfast this morning." he declared with a hint of worry in his voice.

"How come? Is he busy?" Saerys asked confused.

'I mean he is a Lord, he's probably doing Lordy things with his Lordy advisors like Lords do'

"He is calling a meeting in his study and you and the Lady will both be expected to be there." Ryland retorted.

I got up out of bed and started to put my shirt on, 'Surely that can't be it? He seemed so worried. He's not telling us everything'

I could tell that Saerys was also thinking the same as me by the look of confusion on his face.

"Is that it? Just a meeting?" Saerys asked whilst reaching for his shirt that was laid across his bed and quickly lifting it over his head.

'Shame, I was enjoying the view'

I looked over at Ryland and he still had a look of unease on his face.

I finally decided to voice my thoughts, "Ryland you look like a scared chihuahua, what's actually going on?"

I could see that he looked very confused at my statement, clearly not knowing whether to be offended or not, He then looked very hesitant to answer my question but just when he was about to open his mouth Saerys butted in.

"I'm sure it's nothing too bad, and if it is I am incredibly certain that Lord Reiner will have it under control." He looked at me with what I assumed to be a reassuring gaze but I could see the hint of worry behind his eyes.

He turned back to Ryland, "Thank you for passing on his message Ryland, we will make our way down to the hall in a few minutes."

He curled his fingers round the door knob and attempted to shut the door but before he managed to close it Ryland reached out stopped it from shuting all the way.

"Wait!" He shouted.

Saerys looked quite surprised but opened the door nonetheless, "There is no need to shout my friend, what is on your mind?"

Ryland looked at him apologetically then lowered his voice to a whisper and gazed down at the floor, "I have heard some rumours around the kitchens, they say that they have heard that a few of Lennox Arnold's cult members have been getting more, let's say, bold."

Saerys poster changed and his arms went rigid. "How so?" He asked.

I walked closer and stood by Saerys side and clasped onto his hand to give him a reassuring squeeze.

"They say that they have been going into local villages and preaching for the head of..." He paused and glanced upwards looking both in the eyes, you could see his hesitation, then he continued "'The vile demon'"

I looked up and scanned Saerys face to see what he was feeling. Sure enough he had a look of worry and anger in his expression and I knew exactly what he was feeling.

'The poor guy, this bastard Lennox never gives him a break, I'm gonna kick him so hard in the balls next time I see him'

I was about to call out to him however before I could he spoke up.

"It is fine Ryland, thank you for telling me. You can go back to working, we have probably kept you here long enough."

"It is not a problem Master Saerys, but please do me a favour and stay safe." He said with a small smile.

Saerys returned the small gesture and shook his head, he then closed the door on Rylands slowly departing figure.

As soon as he turned round I pounced on him before he could say anything, sending us both crashing down onto the floor.

He grunted as we hit the floor boards then jolted his eyes open and stared at me like a confused puppy.

'Haha, I have captured the vicious demon'

"What was tha-" He only managed to get half the sentence out before I silenced him with my lips.

He was shocked at first but then I felt him melt into the kiss. We parted and I gave him a quick peck on the nose.

"Stop it!" I said as I glared at him.

Now he was royaly Confused. "Stop what?" he said with a look of bewilderment on his face.

I huffed and sat up on his lap, still not letting him leave my grasp, "You know what, you can't hide your feelings from me Saerys. I can see it in your eyes."

He looked at me like a deer caught in headlights then closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

Seeing that he made no effort to shake it off I continued, "It's not your fault Saerys, it never will and it has never been." I reached down and put both my hands on his face and rested my head against his, "You're not putting anyone in danger." I whispered and slowly kissed him on the forehead.

He then carefully put his arms around my waist and hid his face in the crook of my neck.

"Promise me you won't blame yourself for this." I whispered in his ear returning the hug.

He stayed silent.

'Saerys you little shit.'

I ripped myself out of his arms and flicked him on the forehead.

He squeaked and grabbed his head, "What was that for?" He complained whilst glaring at me as I laughed down at him.

"Promise me." I said as I looked down at him with a small smirk spread across my face.

Suddenly, he leaped up and grabbed my sides and rolled over, so I was now the one pinned against the dusty floor.

'The hunter has become the prey'

I scowled at him and he smirked down at me.

"Fine, I promise, but next time you should think twice about pinning me to the floor." He said with a wink. "because next time I might not let you leave my grip." He then leaned down to engulf my lips in a kiss once more.

'I don't think he understands that I wouldn't mind if he had me pinned underneath him forever'

Once he had finally let me breathe I looked out the window at the sun, "I think we missed breakfast." I said as I giggled.

He followed my gaze to the sun that was almost all the way up in the sky. "looks like we have." He muttered. "We should probably start heading towards Lord Reiners Study." He said whilst standing up from the floor.

He put his hand out to help me up, I smiled thankfully.

'After all, I am way to lazy to get up myself'

I spoke as I took his hand, "And I suppose we will have to deal with Iseuls snide remarks on why we are all dusty." I laughed as I picked a bit of fluff out of Saerys hair.

"Oh I can't wait." He mumbled as he opened the door and held it open for me, "Ladies first."

'Ha, a gentleman'

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ittybittypbandj · 6 years

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The Internship - Chapter 3

We’re 3 chapters in, team! Halfway there and things are about to get real!

So buckle up, let’s keep going with this multi-chapter Bittyparse fluff-fest, now featuring special guest Angst. 5 chapters, weekly updates. Also on ao3. <3

Fic Summary:

Eric Bittle arrived in New York two weeks ago, newly single and ready for a fresh start. This internship was just what he needed to jumpstart his life.

Kent Parson loved his life in New York. He was at the peak of his NHL career. He had friends, the world’s greatest cat, and everything he thought he needed.

He never expected a small Southern blonde to burst into his life and turn everything on its head.

“Okay, brah, so what happened after that?”

Bitty rolled his eyes and adjusted the laptop resting on his knees. “C’mon, Shitty, I told you this part already. He grabbed my arm so I wouldn’t fall and then stared at me for a minute.”

Shitty cupped his chin in his hand and sighed longingly at the screen. “Fucking love at first sight, my man. Like a scene out of a queer-positive, alternate universe John Hughes movie.”

“You sap,” Lardo snorted, and shoved Shitty’s shoulder. “So what will you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you obviously want to bone him and have his hypothetical babies, so what’s the plan?”

Bitty sputtered. He could feel his cheeks blushing and he covered his face with his hands to hide the evidence. This was embarrassing enough as it was.

“I don’t know, guys…I don’t even know if I like him like that.”

Lardo arched one eyebrow.

Shitty leaned offscreen briefly, then reappeared with a joint between his fingers. He waved it at Bitty decisively. “You can’t fool us, little brah. You look super glowy for a dude who just spent two hours with another dude he didn’t like.”

Bitty sighed. He knew it was fibbing to say that he didn’t like Kent. But what was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to lie, but the situation was a mess. Kent was his client. And Jack’s ex. And a hockey player. Apparently Bitty had a type, and his type was Closeted Top Scorers in the Eastern Conference.

He was pretty sure Kent felt something for him, too. He may not have a lot of relationship experience, and goodness knows it took him and Jack long enough to sort out their feelings, but he also wasn’t born yesterday, and Kent’s winks and smiles and lingering stares…well, he could read between those lines.

“Earth to Bitty…hellloooo?”

Bitty looked back at the screen, where Shitty was waving his arms at the camera.

“Look, I like him. Okay? I want to have his – lordy – his hypothetical babies. But he’s Fancy Feline’s client. Isn’t that illegal or somethin’?”

Shitty stroked his mustache. “It could be problematic, I’ll give you that. But it’s only a conflict of interest if it affects the business relationship. As long as you keep it on the DL and don’t, like, grab his ass in meetings – although, the guy does have a handful of handsome ass…maybe a couple handfuls…”

“Shitty!” Bitty cried. His cheeks were seriously going to catch fire.

“Sorry bro. What was I sayin’? Oh, as long as you keep it professional and don’t let it affect your business decisions, I wouldn’t sweat it. Besides, if they transfer you to another department when your internship ends, you’re golden. You can grab all the hot hockey ass you want.”

Bitty leaned his head back against the headboard. What did he even want? He didn’t want to jeopardize this job, goodness knows he needed it for his resumé. But he also wanted Kent. Lord, how he wanted.

Bitty tried to remember the last time he was this infatuated with another person. It was obviously Jack – he and Jack had circled each other for two years before making a move. They’d wasted so much time that they could have spent together. Bitty didn’t want to make that mistake again.

He didn’t have the luxury of time with Kent. At the end of September, his three-month internship would be over. That was only a month away. What if the company didn’t extend his contract? The Rangers’ season would start in October, and it’s not like Kent would have loads of free time. If Bitty didn’t give him a reason to make time, they might never see each other again.

Lardo leaned in and eyed the screen as she said, “You’re thinking awfully hard, Bits. Care to share?”

Bitty nodded to himself, decision made.

“I’m gonna go for it.”

Shitty whooped and Lardo smirked.

“Shitty, you’re right. I reckon we can keep it professional, and I don’t wanna lose my chance by waiting. If he’s interested – and that’s a big if.” Bitty pointed at the camera for emphasis. “If he’s interested, I want to give it a shot.”

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

Kent’s phone buzzed for the fifth time in an hour. It was from Eric, another chirp about the episode of Chopped they were both watching. Kent grinned and tucked his toes under Kit’s couch cushion as he typed a reply.

Somehow, ever since their meeting in the café, Kent and Eric had gone from business acquaintances who occasionally texted, to text acquaintances who occasionally talked business. Kent was totally down for the shift. He hadn’t seen Eric in person since then – his schedule had gotten crazy and he knew Eric was swamped with his job – but he was already imagining the things they would do the next time they saw each other.

It was super lame to be crushing this hard on someone he hardly knew. He was almost thirty, for god’s sake, and he probably should have wised up a decade ago. But you know what, fuck it. He’d wasted most of his twenties pining after a teenage heartbreak. He was a grown-ass dude now and he could do what he wanted.

Kent: i found where we should go to our next meeting thingy

Eric: Our monthly touchbase? That’s great! Where?

Kent: i’m not telling. it’s a surprise

Eric: Ok lol, how am I supposed to get there?

Kent: i’ll pick u up

Kent: lambo or r8?

Eric: Bless you

Kent: cool, r8 it is

Eric: [puzzled emoji]

Kent: [sportscar emoji] [thumbs-up emoji] [sunglasses emoji]

Kent set his phone on the table when it became clear Eric wasn’t replying right away. He snuggled further down the couch, and Kit stretched out on her cushion like she was trying to protect her space from his feet. Kent’s legs were sore from a grueling practice today, and it felt good to relax at home.

Kent’s phone buzzed and he grabbed for it. That would be Eric, chirping him about his flashy cars.

Jack: Hi Kent. Ready for pre-season?

Definitely not Eric. That was cool, he could roll with the punches.

Kent: hey zimms

Jack: When is your first game?

Kent: next saturday at home, then leave for a 2-game roadie in cali

Kent: u?

Jack: We play the Isles next Friday

Kent: cool

Eric: how on earth you justify TWO sports cars in NYC, I’ll never know. smh.

Kent’s stomach did a little flip at seeing Eric’s name on the screen.

Kent: three

Kent: sports cars, that is. if u count the beamer

Eric: Lord, where do you even park them?

Eric: Also what day is good to meet? How 'bout Saturday?

Jack: Would you want to meet up this weekend? We’ll be in New York until Saturday afternoon.

Jack: It would be nice to see you.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Kent muted the television. He needed to think right now, and he couldn’t do it with Ted Allen describing kumquat soup in the background. Fucking hell. Of course Eric and Jack wanted to meet on the same goddamn weekend. Kent’s life was basically a Lifetime movie. He scrubbed his face with his hands and weighed his options.

He really wanted to see Eric. That was a given. Eric made him feel weirdly happy. It was the first time in forever that he’d felt this optimistic about someone.

And Zimms…Kent hadn’t hung out with Jack since the doomed frat party of 2014, not unless you counted the small talk at galas and awards ceremonies. He didn’t even know what they had in common anymore other than hockey. It might be totally weird, but meeting up was part of his Being-Friends-With-Jack Master Plan, and he still wanted to be friends, even if it required super awkward hangout time.

A niggling part of Kent’s brain was worried that seeing Jack would dredge up old feelings. Kent was doing fine now, doing great actually, but when Jack had called him ‘Kenny’ last month, his brain had gone totally haywire. What if seeing him was like that, but a million times worse? What if he fell hopelessly in love again?

Kent flopped across the couch and onto Kit, trapping her with his arms and nuzzling his face into her side.

“Tell me what to do, baby girl.”

Kit twisted like a goalie blocking a wraparound and jumped free of Kent’s arms. He watched her disappear into the bedroom.

“I see how it is!” Kent called after her.

His phone buzzed. Crap, he probably should have texted Eric and Zimms back like five minutes ago.

Eric: I'm also free Thursday or Friday

Kent’s stomach swooped. Before he could answer, his phone dinged again.

Jack: I’m sorry if that was overstepping.

Jack: I understand if you don’t want to meet up.

Kent noticed that his stomach didn’t do any swoopy-feelings at seeing Jack’s name on his phone. Huh. That was a good sign, right?

Eric: Basically I have no life yet in this city........ :/

Kent felt the swoopy feeling again. Yep, he definitely only felt it for Eric. Taking it as a sign from the Lifetime movie gods, he replied,

Kent: how's thursday? gotta get my beauty sleep friday and saturdays the game

Eric: Thursday's great! 6pm?

Eric: Y'know, can we make it 7pm instead?

Kent: 7 is perf. text me ur address

And to Jack,

Kent: sure zimms, let’s meet sat morning

Kent unmuted the television and stretched his legs along the full length of the couch. The upholstery was warm where Kit had been sleeping.

Now would probably be a good time to tell Jack and Eric about each other. He was pretty sure adults were supposed to tell each other about being friends with exes, although he’d never been in that situation. It seemed like an upstanding thing that a real adult would do.

But what would he say to Jack that wouldn’t scare him away? And more importantly, what would he say to Eric that wouldn’t be a total buzzkill for whatever feelings Eric potentially had for him?

He stared vacantly at the TV. If he told Eric about Jack, and then Jack decided to ghost him again, he’d ruin his chances with Eric for nothing. His and Jack’s track record of being friends wasn’t exactly stellar. Hanging out with Jack might be awkward and he'd bail after an hour. Surely that wouldn’t warrant telling Eric about. And if it went well, Kent would have plenty of time to tell him later. Right?

Kent nodded at his own logic. He would wait to tell them. It would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

“…I’ve been here all night….I’ve been here all daaaay…and boy you got me walkin’ side to side…”

Bitty swayed his hips and sang along over the hairdryer.

He’d been looking forward to this meeting all week. If he was being honest, it was a work meeting only in name. He’d transferred his work files to his phone so he wouldn’t need a laptop. He’d pushed the start time to 7pm so they wouldn’t hit happy hour. He wanted to have the luxury to take things slowly, to suggest dinner or more drinks without the pressure of happy hour ending at seven.

He stepped back from the mirror and gave himself a come-hither look. Should he add eyeliner?

He grabbed his phone off the toilet back.

Bitty: eyeliner??

Lardo: yasss

Bitty: [blowing kiss emoji]

He closed one eye, stuck out his tongue in concentration, and started to apply.

At 7:05, Bitty’s front door buzzed. Kent was downstairs, leaning against a royal blue Audi. He flashed Bitty a smile as he opened the passenger door, then walked to the other side and slid into the driver’s seat. When he pressed the ignition, the powerful engine settled into a deep purr.

“You ready to start your New York education?”

As they crossed the Manhattan Bridge and drove into lower Manhattan, Bitty’s leg bounced restlessly. He forced himself to sit still and squeezed his fingers together in his lap. Kent was right here, and he was so much hotter than Bitty remembered. It was hard to be around him without staring; everything about him felt electric. Eric willed his dick to ignore the observation. His skinny khakis wouldn’t exactly hide an erection.

They pulled up to a swanky hotel and a uniformed man opened Bitty’s door. Kent gave instructions to the valet and handed her a folded bill.

“Is this where we’re going?”

“Nah, we’re just parking. The Dominick does good valet service.” Kent grinned and motioned for Bitty to follow him down the block. “You’ll see. We’re going to a real New York institution.”

The location Kent had picked for their date (meeting, Bitty scolded himself) turned out to be a 1960’s tiki bar that had been in business for fifty years. Kent peppered Bitty with details about local history as they made their way to the bar.

The interior of the bar was dark and hazy. The ceiling was completely covered with autographed dollar bills pushed into the ceiling with drink umbrellas; Kent pointed out his own name, and Bitty politely pretended he could see it in the mass of bills. Surfing movies played on a TV in the corner, vintage posters covered the walls, and everything was covered in a fine film of dust.

Kent ordered drinks – two variations of something fruity and blended, garnished with pineapple – and he let Bitty try both and pick his favorite. They slid into a mostly-hidden back booth. Bitty noticed the bill Kent slipped the bartender, and the ‘Reserved’ sign the bartender removed from the tabletop before they took their seats.

Bitty couldn’t help feeling a little bit awed at the way Kent spent money. Jack and Kent both made a lot of money playing hockey (Kent made two million more, not that Bitty’d checked, that wouldn’t be polite). But they spent it so differently. Jack was reserved and cautious, investing in real estate and vehicles with good mileage and safety records. Kent spent money like it was water. He seemed to view money as a means to solve problems and enjoy himself. After years of coexisting with Jack, Bitty found Kent’s largesse exciting.

As they sipped their drinks, the conversation was light and easy. Bitty leaned into Kent’s space and listened to him describe his favorite New York restaurants. They traded stories and chirps until their glasses were empty and Kent hailed a waiter.

“Another?”

Bitty grinned and nodded. His limbs felt loose and warm. Lordy, he couldn’t even taste the rum in these drinks.

When their refills arrived, Bitty leaned forward to taste Kent’s drink and used the movement as an excuse to shift his knee so that it pressed against Kent’s under the table. Kent glanced up sharply. He didn’t move away. Bitty’s stomach did somersaults.

The thing Bitty loved about conversations with Kent, is how he felt like an equal in them. He didn’t feel young or inexperienced or like an object of adoration – although watching the way Kent’s eyes tracked him as he talked, maybe there was a little of that, too. But he felt like an adult and an equal. Bitty had as many stories to share as Kent did, and Kent seemed genuinely interested in them. He asked follow-up questions about Bitty’s job. He whistled at Bitty’s recounting of the Jam Fiasco of 2015. Bitty thrived on the attention.

By the time they finished their second drinks, Bitty had his hand on Kent’s forearm as Kent regaled him with an embarrassing story of him and his old teammate, Jeff Troy, at a state fair. Bitty gasped as Kent concluded the story by miming a bin of stuffed animals falling on top of them.

“Oh my!” Bitty exclaimed. “Thank goodness y’all were alright.”

Kent looked down at Bitty’s arm, opened his mouth to say something else, closed it again. Bitty was suddenly very aware of the places their bodies were touching.

Feeling brave, he traced his finger down Kent’s arm to his wrist, following a vein just below the skin. Kent inhaled. He watched Kent’s lips, parted slightly with his breath. Bitty wanted to kiss him so badly. He felt invincible from the alcohol and Kent’s attention.

Before he could lose his nerve, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Kent’s.

The kiss was gentle and lasted only a few seconds. Kent moved his lips against Bitty’s, hesitantly, chastely. To an outsider it probably looked innocent enough, and before Bitty could lose himself in the moment, Kent pulled away.

“Not here,” he breathed.

Bitty leaned back. Oh lord, how had he forgotten? Kent was famous in this city and he wasn’t out. There could be cameras anywhere. Kent could be outed on Deadspin tomorrow and it would be so awful for his career. Bitty pressed his hands to his face. Goodness, he’d been so selfish.

Kent looked at Bitty with concern. Bitty could feel the flush of embarrassment rising in his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Kent whispered, “I…I want to, just…later?” He cocked his head to one side and asked in a normal volume, “How about we get some food?”

Bitty nodded, still feeling horrified. Things had been going so well, and he totally messed it up with his stupid recklessness.

They closed their tab and walked outside into the warm September night.

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

“So, uh, is pizza okay? I had a place picked out, but we could find somewhere else if pizza after Mai Tais is a no-go.”

Kent looked at Eric hopefully, wishing he could turn the dial back ten minutes and put the wide, happy grin back on Eric’s face.

“Pizza’s fine.”

Kent tried a new conversation topic. “Got any plans after your internship ends? It must be soon, right?”

Eric nodded. “I think they might give me an offer in a different department, outside the Pet division. I’ve had a couple interviews.” Kent nodded as Eric got into the rhythm of the conversation and started to sound more like himself. “Of course, I want to move to the magazine – Home Cooking, they sell it in supermarket checkouts?” Eric glanced over and Kent made a noise like he’d heard of it, “but it’s so darn competitive. I don’t know where I’ll end up.”

Kent half-smiled. He was happy for Eric, even if it blew that he wouldn’t work with Kent and Kit anymore. He’d known from the beginning that Eric’s internship was temporary. He wondered if it would be appropriate to send a letter of recommendation to someone about the food magazine. He’d seen firsthand how good Eric was at his job. The company would be crazy to let him get away. He filed the thought away for later.

“Will you stay in New York?”

Eric nodded and looked around him in a way that made Kent imagine he was assessing the worthiness of all New York City.

“Yeah, the city’s growin’ on me. The company’s based here. And I’ve made some friends,” he turned and met Kent’s eyes, “I’d feel like I missed out if I left now.”

They lingered over pizza at the little restaurant Kent picked out. Eric perked up after a slice of margherita pizza and a coke. He asked Kent all about this year’s team and how Kent felt about their chances in the preseason.

Kent couldn’t stop looking at Eric’s eyes. They looked fucking beautiful, warm honey brown ringed with dark lashes, and it was all Kent could do to keep his hands to himself. He wished they were somewhere private so he could kiss him again. He wanted to feel Eric’s fingertips on his arm again, to lean into his kiss instead of having to pull away. Would Eric be down for it if Kent asked him to come back to his place? What if he was hella offended? He was Southern, did that make a difference? He should have googled this shit beforehand.

Kent waited until they were back on the sidewalk, strolling away from the restaurant with no particular destination, to ask the question.

“Uh, so, I only live a few blocks from here. It’s a nice night…do you, um, maybe want to walk back to my place and leave the car? I can hire you a ride back to Brooklyn whenever you want.”

He could see Eric blush in the yellow light of the streetlamp. It hadn't been his smoothest line, and he hoped he’d read the situation right.

“I wouldn’t be a bother? Don’t you have early practice?”

“You could never be a bother.”

Kent cringed. Welcome to Cheesy McCheesetown, population him.

Eric smiled tenderly, apparently not noticing Kent’s total lack of cool.

“Well, then. I’d love that.”

Kent grinned. His chest felt lighter than it had in months. Eric liked him. Eric wanted to spend time with him and kiss him and come back to his place and hopefully do other things with him. He felt like he’d won the fucking lottery.

They started walking. Kent looked quickly behind them to see that the street was deserted, then reached out and traced his index finger down the outside of Eric's hand. Eric moved his hand closer and pressed their fingertips together. Kent's face felt warm. He felt like a giddy teenager walking home after the homecoming dance, not that he'd ever had a homecoming. He briefly squeezed their fingers together.

When they reached his building, Eric casually put his hands in his pockets as he followed him inside. He stood off to the side, typing on his phone, as Kent asked the concierge to retrieve his car from SoHo; and Kent remembered that Eric had done this before.

Eric knew how to date a famous athlete in the closet. This wasn’t his first time looking unobtrusive in the lobby of a condo building. It was a very specific skill set, and Kent wanted to fight every homophobe who'd made it so Eric needed to learn those skills in the first place. He deserved so much better. Although he had to admit, not many people knew how exhausting it was for guys like Kent and Jack to keep up the bro-ey pretense of heterosexuality, and it felt really fucking good that Eric understood.

Kent nearly vibrated out of his skin as they rode the elevator up to Kent’s apartment. He kept his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, trying not to look nervous.

As soon as the apartment door closed, he turned to Eric and gingerly took his face in both hands. Eric stared up at him, eyes dark.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Eric grinned without answering, then leaned forward and pressed his lips against Kent’s. Kent tried not to moan at finally getting the contact he’d wanted all night. He brushed his tongue inside Eric’s mouth, relishing the hot wetness. He ran his fingers up through Eric’s hair and smelled his coconut shampoo.

Kent hummed in encouragement as Eric wound his hands around Kent’s back and down over his ass. He squeezed playfully, smiling against Kent’s lips, then pulled away just enough that Kent stopped and looked at him questioningly. When Eric seemed satisfied that he had Kent’s attention, he pushed Kent backward with more strength than Kent would have expected, pressing him against the wall of the entryway and bracing him in place with a hand on each of his hips.

“This okay, hon?” Eric asked through his lashes.

Jesus fucking Christ. “More than okay.”

Eric kissed him again, deep and filthy. A shiver ran down the whole length of Kent’s body, and he instantly felt himself go from mildly aroused to hard as a fucking rock.

A small chirp sounded from behind them. Kent groaned.

He turned his face away from Eric’s lips and grumbled, “Go away, Kit. I’ll feed you later.”

Another chirp. This time Kit came right up to them and butted her head against Kent’s shinbone, annoyed. Kent wondered if locking her in the guest bath would be considered animal cruelty. He sighed and relented.

“Sorry, Eric, I forgot. I usually feed her right when I get home.”

Eric gave him an amused little smirk. “You’d better get on that, Mister Parson. She looks mighty displeased.”

“I’ll be back in two minutes.” He leaned forward and kissed the smirk off Eric’s face with quick, silly, closed-mouth kisses. Eric laughed and squirmed away.

Kent ran to the kitchen and proceeded to set a land speed record for preparing cat food. When he finished, he found Eric in the living room with all the lights turned off, watching the city from the wall-to-wall windows. The night skyline of Manhattan lit up his face in a warm yellow glow. Kent stood behind him and circled his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Eric’s shoulder.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Eric half-laughed, half-sighed. “If you’d told sixteen-year-old me that in a handful of years I would be living in New York City, making it on my own, enjoying dinner and drinks and this,” he gestured pointedly between Kent and himself, “with a hot NHL star...I would’ve said you were downright crazy.”

Kent smiled and trailed little kisses down the back of Eric’s neck, feeling pleased with himself when he felt Eric shiver. “C’mon,” he whispered into Eric’s ear.

“Hmm?”

Kent slid his hands over Eric’s torso, brushing the exposed skin at the waistband of his khakis. “Come with me. I know a few things we could do that would make sixteen-year-old Eric blush.”

Eric snorted. “Oh my god, Kent, that line was awful.”

Kent grinned. “Did it work?”

Eric just laughed, full and throaty, and pulled Kent in the direction of the bedroom.

“Uuuugggghhhh.”

Kent groped around on the bedside table for his phone. Why the fuck was his alarm going off? It was so goddamn early. How was anyone awake at this ungodly hour?

He turned off the offending alarm and reached out for Eric, but the bed next to him was empty.

Kent was immediately awake. He sat up.

When had Eric left? Oh god, had he done something to offend him? He tried to recall what would have upset Eric enough for him to leave, but nothing stood out. The last thing he remembered from the night before was both of them crawling under the sheets, post-orgasm, and Eric laying his hand on Kent's chest as they passed out.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked around. A little yellow sticky note sat next to his phone.

Kent,

I had so much fun last night.

I left early, needed a shower & clothes before work.

Kick ass in your game.

<3 EB

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

Bitty scrambled for his phone when it buzzed, praying it would be Kent. He’d had two false alarms already this morning – a good-morning note from his mama and a string of eggplant emojis from Shitty.

Kent: my pillow smells like you

Bitty: [blushing emoji] you got my note?

Kent: i did

Bitty: Sorry I had to run, I forgot we had a team meeting at 8 and I kinda needed a shower

Kent: heh yeah

Kent: i mean, if you’d let me swallow like i was planning to

Bitty: Oh lordy

Kent: but nooo, u wanted it on my abs

Bitty: Kent Parson

Kent: and then it got everywhere

Bitty: We are not having this conversation while I’m sittin’ in a SHARED cubicle

Kent: [smiling devil emoji] [winking kiss emoji]

Bitty swiveled his chair so he faced away from his cubicle-mate. He hunched over the screen and reread Kent’s texts, beaming like an idiot.

Bitty: Will I see you before your roadie?

Kent: probably not

Kent: we have practice & team photos today, game tmrw, then hit the road right after

Bitty: :( :( :(

Kent: I’d love to meet up next weekend after i’m back

Bitty: I’d like that :D

Bitty: Btw you earned serious baked goods last night

Kent: i live to please [cherub emoji]

Kent: and my favorite flavor is blueberry

Blueberry. Hmm. Bitty had all sorts of blueberry recipes he could bake for Kent. If he stopped by Whole Foods on his way home from work, he could whip up a batch of blueberry mini crumbles easy-peasy. Or maybe the blueberry brie tartlets the boys had been so fond of at the Haus? He opened his browser to research recipes.

It was a bummer that Kent couldn’t hang out until next week. Bitty had no plans tonight and baking would take his mind off the excitement of the last couple days.

That’s alright, he could wait until next week.

He could wait.

If he stopped on his way home and picked up some blueberries, surely that was alright.

If he washed the blueberries and set the butter out to room temperature, that was just smart preparation.

Well, as long as everything was out, he might as well make a little somethin'.

Two batches of mini crumbles, two batches of tartlets, and one batch of sweet potato cat treats later, Bitty finally felt calm enough to crawl into bed. He knew Kent would be busy tomorrow, but he could drop by quickly and give Kent the baked goods and a good-luck kiss. He wouldn’t even have to go inside. It would be sweet and perfect.

The next morning, Bitty tied two bakery boxes with twine and a little note; presentation was important. Kent had said their practice was over at 10, so at 10:30 he skipped up the front steps of Kent’s building and set down his boxes in the lobby.

Bitty: Hi hon, are you home?

Kent: hi what’s up?

Bitty: I have a surprise for you [winking kissy face]

Kent: ??

Bitty: Let me up and I can show you [winking emoji]

Kent: how about I come downstairs to u?

Bitty: Oh don’t you worry, this won’t take but a minute

Bitty: I don’t mind makin’ the trip

Kent: that’s ok you don’t have to

Kent: i can come down

Kent: i don’t mind

Kent: eric?

Bitty hopped into the elevator with a woman holding a Pomeranian, pushing the button for Kent’s floor after she’d swiped her keycard. He smiled in what he hoped looked like a friendly-not-intruder way. Kent was so silly. He didn’t mind coming up at all. No reason Kent should have to interrupt his routine for Bitty.

Bitty knocked on Kent’s door and Kent opened it right away, like he’d been waiting for him. He had on basketball shorts and a Rangers t-shirt. His hair was sweaty. He didn’t invite Bitty in.

“Hey Eric, I didn’t expect you today.”

“Oh honey, I was just in the area and thought I’d drop off a little somethin’ for the boys on your roadie.”

Bitty handed Kent the packages and Kent smiled as he sniffed appreciatively. He turned briefly to listen to something in the other room, and his smile faded. He turned back to Bitty.

“That’s really cool, man. Thanks.”

Bitty started to wish him good luck, but he stopped when he thought he heard…was that footsteps?

Kent jumped in, “Sorry I couldn’t hang out today, I just–”

“Parse, where are the bowls?”

A tall, dark-haired man in running shorts and yellow sneakers walked into the entryway holding a box of cereal. He froze when he saw Bitty.

Bitty’s heart stopped. “Jack?”

“Bittle.”

Bitty backed away, clutching his phone to his chest. What was happening? He couldn’t breathe. Why was Jack here? From somewhere far away, he heard Kent saying his name.

He turned and ran.

#bittyparse #eric bittle #kent parson #kit purrson #jack zimmermann #omgcp #omgcp fic #omgcp fanfic #kent plays for the rangers #parsepositive #i'm posting all of this because i'm too excited to wait #hope you like it!

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 6 years

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Snowflake

Day 8. 31 Days of Ficmas @doctorroseprompts.

@timepetalsprompts for bingo: Piper - tongue touched smile, badassery; Characters - all Doctors in love with Rose

Ficmas Masterlist 2017, Day 8

AO3

I... honestly don’t know what this is. It’s clean, but... I don’t know, I’m tired. Enjoy?

He hates snow.

He’d never been particularly fond of the stuff, but no strong feelings either way, just a fact of the universe like Friday mornings. Not that interesting, but not nearly as bad as Sundays.

And it’s easy to avoid, one way or another. The TARDIS as always understands, and makes sure to (almost) never take him where there’s snow. Or even really cold places, because that hurts just as much.

If the Ponds notice they don’t comment, likely chalking it up to prickly Time Lordiness.

Which is why when he steps out of the TARDIS into a thin layer of it, he spins to scowl at his ship.

“What did you do?”

Rory blinked, exchanging concerned looks with his wife. “Nothing?”

“Not you.” The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Her, the TARDIS. Why’re we here? Where is here, anyway?” He looked around, noting the barrenness instead of the civilization he was hoping for. There was nothing but bare trees, and snow.

Lots of snow.

For good measure he kicked the door, feeling an immediate pain in his toe and a flare of irritation from her across the bond between pilot and ship.

“Sorry, dear,” he muttered, before sighing. “Sorry, Ponds, this isn’t where we were headed. Let’s try again, shall we?”

He put his key in the lock, but it refused to turn. “Oh, now you’re locking me out? Brilliant. What’re we supposed to do?”

The ship doesn’t deign to answer, and he sighed again.

“Right, Ponds. Into town. Let’s go.”

Picking a direction at random he marches off, hoping it will lead somewhere sooner or later.

Half an hour later, one still-irritated Time Lord and two shivering companions stumbled upon a winter festival of sorts. There were traditionally winter baked goods for sale, lots of apple this and cinnamon that, in addition to all types of crafts.

At the sight of it the Doctor stopped, not believing his eyes. He’d suspected on the walk where they might be, but to find he’d been right…

He wondered what he’d done to the TARDIS to deserve this level of cruelty.

“D’you know where we are?” Amy asked, looking around with interest. “Can we shop?”

“We’re on Frorth Six. It’s the annual Winter Fair. Shop if you like.” The Doctor stalked over to the fountain, flopping down onto it and scowling at a happy couple a few feet away.

“What’s wrong?” The Ponds sat next to him, one on either side. Normally he was grateful for their presence, but right now he just wanted to be left alone with his grief.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been here before,” Rory guessed.

“Yes.”

“With someone who travelled with you before.”

“Yes.”

“Someone you miss.”

The Doctor turned his head slowly to the other man, seeing his age in his eyes. Though Rory did a much better job that he did of pretending not to be millennia old, it still sometimes came through.

Just another reason to feel guilty.

He hesitated for a moment, before uncharacteristically for this regeneration sharing, “With every beat of my hearts.”

Rory’s eyes went wide and Amy gasped, but the cracked door immediately slammed shut on the topic.

“Go, have a good time, be a loving couple. I can recommend the sleigh ride and the hot chocolate. I’ll be here when you’re ready to go.”

Amy opened her mouth to argue but Rory beat her to it. “If you’re sure.”

The Time Lord simply ignored them until they gave up and walked away, which took far longer than he would have liked.

His gaze kept coming back to the couple in the corner, slow dancing to the Christmas tunes piping into the square. He was tall and she was blonde and though he knew it wasn’t them, the visual still tugged viciously at his heartstrings.

Looking anywhere but them, he tried desperately to distract himself from his memories, still burning brightly as if it had been ten minutes ago, not centuries.

The final straw came when the snowflakes began to fall.

One by one, they sprinkled down, and he felt each one that hit his skin as though they were knives to his hearts. Each one brought a memory.

No matter how far or how fast he ran, the grief came for him, particularly in the snow, until all he could see was her.

That very first snowfall, her first trip to the past. How hesitantly she’d stepped out into the powder, how awed she’d been by the entire experience. Despite Gwyneth’s death and her own close call, she’d been utterly captivated by the flakes. How beautiful she’d been in that dress (considering nothing).

The first time he’d taken her to Woman Wept and they’d spent hours exploring the icy surface as she helped him see it another way, had healed one of many small wounds that remained in the immediate aftermath of the Time War.

The first time he’d brought her here, too much of a coward still to tell her what was already carved so deeply into his hearts.

Christmas 2007, when that him had been so new and eager to please, looking at her with stars in his eyes and love in his hearts when she agreed to stay with him.

Their return to Woman Wept where he’d bared his soul to her, scars and all, while she held him close and first promised him forever.

Their return here, ice skating and drinking hot chocolate, shopping and laughing before going home and making love in front of the fireplace in the library.

The hundred other places he’d taken her just to see her light up at the sight of the frozen water; she’d loved the snow, and he loved her, and the two became permanently linked in his memory.

That New Years Day, when he’d been so tired and sick, wanting to give up, to only see her face one last time, hear her voice. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, there was a very real chance he’d ask her to run away with him; in the snow, he rather thought she might’ve.

His torturous slog down memory lane was abruptly ended by the paper cup thrust in his face.

“Here, you look half-frozen.” The Doctor automatically accepted the cup, taking a sip and savoring the hot chocolate before turning to the stranger.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she smiled, a bright grin that made his own lips twitch up.

“Why’d you give this to me?” He wanted to know, and she rolled her eyes.

“Looked like you could do with a hot drink.”

“Okay?” Still confused, the Doctor looked at her suspiciously. “Did Amy and Rory send you over?”

“No. They your current companions?”

“Yes. Who are you?” She seemed familiar on a fundamental level, like her very soul was calling to him.

Her eyebrow quirked, before realization dawned. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Should I?” He peered at her carefully, heart lurching when he realized that he hadn’t imagined it; she looked just like Rose. Well, Rose with ginger hair. “I…”

The woman took pity on him. “I’m Sarah.”

He only blinked at her, a dull roaring in his ears matching the way his time senses were going haywire.

Her smile faltered, eyes flicking behind him several times. “You are the Doctor, aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly, mind racing. “Yeah, I am. And you’re…”

“Your daughter,” she finished, biting her lip just as Rose did. “Yours and Rose’s.”

His hearts stopped, before picking up double time. He’d always wondered, the smallest kernel of doubt niggling in the back of his mind.

“Shouldn’t you be-”

“In Pete’s World? I grew up there. And now I’m here.” She smiled kindly at him, letting him gape like a stunned mackerel.

“Alone?” He managed, still trying to process the idea.

“No.”

It wasn’t the girl – his daughter – who spoke.

He spun to see the person behind him who had, and was somehow still shocked to see her.

Rose.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out as he stared desperately at her, wondering if he’d finally once and for all gone off the deep end.

She looked just as she always had, young and pretty, pink and yellow.

And she was here.

“How-”

“Does it matter?” Rose asked simply. “I’m home, and I brought our daughter with me. Isn’t that enough? At least for now?”

He nodded slowly, unable to believe his eyes, certain he was about to wake up from a wonderful, horrible nightmare.

His still stunned reaction must not have been very reassuring, because Rose bit her lip and glanced around him at the girl – Sarah.

“Doctor-”

“Are you really home? This isn’t a dream?” He burst out, and Rose shrugged shyly.

“Yes. I mean, if you want.”

He didn’t know why it had taken him so long, but them being here in front of him explained so much; why the TARDIS had come here, why she’d refused to leave.

She knew.

“I love you.”

After so many centuries of holding the words in, of regretting missing his chance, the Doctor took the moment sitting in front of him.

Rose lit up, smiling widely that smile he loved so much, a hint of tongue peeking out.

“I love you too.”

Leaning forward, he brought one hand up to cradle her head as he pulled her towards him. Their lips met in the middle, and it was as magical and inevitable as their very first. As their mouths met again and again, he brought his other hand up to brush her temple; when she leaned her head firmly into the touch he connected their minds, diving deeply into the only place that had ever felt like home.

Over their temporary bond, they sent all the love in their hearts to each other. The Doctor received all her worries and grief, her fear of starting over again with only their daughter. Rose was almost overwhelmed by his grief and loneliness, by how desperately he’d missed her.

“Excuse me?”

Amy’s voice jolted him out of the kiss, fingers slipping from Rose’s temple and dropping their connection.

“What, Pond?” He snapped, turning to give her a glimpse of the Oncoming Storm.

“What’s going on here? We leave you alone for an hour and come back to find you snogging a random girl. What gives?”

“I’m Rose,” the random girl interrupted. “You are?”

“Rory, and she’s Amy,” Rory jumped in, placing a calming hand on his wife’s arm.

“I’m guessing he’s never mentioned me?” Rose asked, lips quirking at their confused looks. That hurt a bit, but she got it – especially knowing how everything had gone down with Martha. Still, she understood now Sarah Jane’s anger when they’d first met.

“Nope. Maybe you’re not as important as you thought?” Amy crossed her arms, giving the blonde a smirk as her husband sighed.

“Possibly,” Rose considered. “I’m only the mother of his child. But it has been centuries.” She shrugged, as though she hadn’t just knowingly dropped a bomb.

“You are not,” Amy gasped in disbelief.

Smirking now herself, Rose pointed around the Doctor. “That’s Sarah – our daughter. We’ve been away, sort of, but we’re back now.”

“Right.” Before Amy could say anymore, the Doctor jumped in, babbling away.

“Right! So, let’s head back to the TARDIS, yeah? We can discuss this more after the girls are settled.”

“Sounds perfect,” Rose commented, jumping to her feet. “Then we can materialize your TARDIS around ours, keep her safe since she won’t work here.”

“Wrong energy source,” the Doctor realized, taking her hand and lacing their fingers as though no time had passed.

“Yep,” Rose and Sarah said in unison, popping the ‘p’ as he used to before bursting into giggles.

The three headed off, the Doctor trusting the Ponds to follow. They’d only taken a few steps before snowflakes began to fall again, and he turned to Rose in time to see her pause to close her eyes and tilt her head back, tongue out to catch a stray flake.

Walking towards the TARDIS with Rose on one side and their daughter on the other, he couldn’t help but remember all the good history he had with this specific type of precipitation.

He loves snow.

#bbatcfic #31 Days of Ficmas #doctorroseprompts #timepetalscollective #ficandchips #snowflake #11xRose #11th Doctor #Rose Tyler #31 Days of Ficmas 2017

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magic5ball · 3 years

Text

Nature Trail To Hell Arc III: The Blood Curse of Tako Shak (6)

Chapter 6: Tako Shak II: Burrito Boogaloo

Looking back, I guess the contract wasn’t THAT bad. I did get edible things and a sleeping area, as well as a hefty salary of $5.00 an hour. I say edible things instead of food because thanks to that place, I grew up believing cheese was made from a ‘texturized whey protein’, which I figured was some kind of rare South American baboon. And the uniform was black, which as we all know is the best color of the rainbow.

Not too bad, right? Except for one problem: I was contractually required to WORK for all this. And for a guy who’d expected to spend his summer vacation playing Super Smash Bros. for twelve hours a day, this was the worst possible thing that could have happened outside of a Barney the ‘Dinosaur’ marathon.

Instead, what I got was a workplace so fast paced it made the story of Cinderella look like yoga class. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the manager had me working three different jobs we were so understaffed. And to top it off, I had to do these jobs simultaneously we were so busy! The entire time I was there, I probably changed my uniform once and went to the toilet (which was under the front counter to save space) twice.

Warning!

¡Peligro!

Warnung!

Rabhadh!

Upozorenje!

Kuna so wake wake tare da wannan!

I am about to describe a typical day working at Tako Shak. The scenes depicted are not for the elderly or faint of heart. If you are pregnant or a smoker, I would request you rip out the next, I dunno, two pages and pretend they never existed. Though odds are you’re just my little brother, in which case, don’t blame me if you swear off meat for life. So yeah, once you pass the line below, there is no going back. You have been warned.

Oh, who am I kidding?! All I did was switch between washing the dishes and taking people’s cash at the drive-in! That’s it! And the water in the sink wasn’t even filled with sharks or anything! Just plain, ordinary hot water! The bed I slept on wasn’t even a garbage bin in the back filled with raccoons! It was a cot in the break room. But the worst part? It went on FOREVER! To the point where even a second in that dull place made me feel like my soul was getting washed out! I thought I knew what boredom was. But NOTHING prepared me for Tako Shak!

Well, there was ONE exciteing thing: taking out the Tako meat….

IF YOU HAVEN’T STOPED READING ALREADY, NOW’S YOUR LAST CHANCE TO BACK OUT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Now that we have all the wimps out of the way, let’s continue. And you better like this part ‘cause sweet Lordy Lord did I have to jump through flaming hoops of poisonous cobras to get this thing printed. Anyways-

[Note: Despite the writer’s wishes, we, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania have deemed it necessary to remove the following section, which describes in exquisite detail the process by which ‘Tako Meat’ is prepared, as inappropriate for 99.99% of all living species on Earth. As such, the next paragraph is printed in ink invisible to everyone except space aliens, the terminally insane, and liberals.]

And to this day, I can still hear the screaming.

My fellow employees weren’t that much help either, to be honest. They were less a group of individual human beings than a horde of faceless zombies. Literally. Most of them had sold their faces to pay off their student loans. The only exception to this rule was this shapeshifting alien named Howard Lazuli, who ran the fryer. He was kinda like F-Bomb, if you took away the weird fixation with Weeb and curse words that made the original so lovably quirky, leaving behind only a squishy exoskeleton packed to the brim with misery and woe. When he wasn’t frying churros, he’d ramble on about how he’d gotten to this low point in his aeons long life. Back in the day, his spaceship had crash landed Antarctica, leaving him frozen in ice for millions of years. As it just so happened, it was right around the same place old Loopy Sanchez had decided to set up the world’s first South Pole Tako Shak (just two weeks later, heart disease in penguins would increase by 200%). Once they’d thawed Howard out of the ice, they hired him on the spot. Granted, it was against his will, but hey, a job’s a job! Since then, he’d moved from Shak to Shak at the whims of his employers, until one day he found himself working in the Best State in the Union. As for how he got promoted to fryboy, apparently he’d given them one of his race’s most forbidden pieces of knowledge, the formula to something so horrible, so vile, that even the instructions for preparing it had to be kept in a chromium steel box three inches thick. You might know it as the original 666 spices.

Eleven hours and fifty five minutes a day I put up with this crap, until my five minute break came. By the time I’d gotten ready for bed, it was back to the old grindstone. Wash, rinse, repeat. I would have prayed to the Lord, really, anyone who’s anyone knows Tako Shak is the one place on Earth where his light does not shine. (That’s why they have fluorescent lights to compensate.) It seemed I was doomed to live out the rest of my life in this Mexican themed pit of evil, until the day he showed up.

#My writing #Nature Trail To Hell #the thing #fast food #Tako Shak

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notokay-killjoy-blog · 6 years

Text

Your Putting Up With Me For A While

Request: Hi hi, saw your requests where open and was wondering if you could do a gerardxreader where she has a severe anxiety attack and ends up fainting. Gerard helps her as he understands mental health issues too. Lots of care and love. Thank you :)

Announcement: OH LORDY LORD IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! I’ve had absolutely no time to write so I’m writing instead of sleeping. I WILL NOT SLEEP TILL ITS DONE!! But yeah it’s done :) but I’m so so so so sooooo sorry it took so long hun :( Also sorry it’s so freaking dePresSinG :/ okay so I hope you enjoy :’)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ABUSE, SUICIDE, AND SEVER ANXIETY THIS IS ANGSTY OOFERS

Female Reader (soz all you male/genderfluid peeps

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

“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO HANG OUT WITH THEM ANYMORE!” Your father’s words pierced your brain as he kicks (your crush’s name) out of your house. “I know but-“ “ BUT WHAT? YOU LIKE THEM?” Tears sting your eyes, “Well, y-yeah-“ “UGH! COME TO TERMS WITH REALITY! NOBODY LOVES YOU! NOBODY EVER WILL!” He slaps you across the face, and you run up to your room, sobbing. You lay in bed, thoughts taking over, “nobody will ever love me, ever.” You restate this sentence in your mind until it feels true. You fall asleep, in a pool of tears, hoping tomorrow would be better.

You wake up and walk downstairs. You approach the living room, where you find your father, dead on the floor, with a note:

This was because of you. Your a brat and I couldn’t take you anymore. I know your too broke to pay rent, so your gunna have to find someplace to stay. Your the reason your mom left. Nobody loves you, you can’t hold a job for 5 seconds, you can’t follow simple directions, you can’t even realize how dumb you are. Your weak, you’ll never make it, and I’m done helping you. Goodbye y/n. -Dad

You couldn’t believe this. Your father commit suicide just because he was sick of you . Five words raced through your mind, “nobody will ever love you.” Those five words, overwhelming your brain. Nobody will ever love you! Nobody will ever love you! NOBODY WILL EVER LO-“

You woke up in your boyfriend Gerard’s arms, sobbing. “Shh it’s ok babe, it will all be okay.” You wrapped your arms around his torso, staining his t-shirt with your tears. “I-I-I can’t-“ You start to worry. What if Gerard didn’t love you? What if he gets sick of you and leaves like you Mom did? What if he breaks up with you and kicks you out of the apartment? What if...

“Y/n was it your dad?” Gee says softly in your ear. You nod, covered in cold sweat and tears. “Oh babe,” He starts to stroke your hair, humming a soft tune. You can’t help but think, what if he’s just acting? What if someone dared him to date you? What if somebody bet him that he couldn’t date me and he’s trying to win? These thoughts put pressure on your chest, making you feel heavy and unable to breathe. You start hyperventilating at the thought of Gerard leaving you, you loved him too much. You’ve never loved anybody more, and the though of him leaving forever and secretly not liking you makes you want to...

You vomit in the trash bin beside your bed. “Oh y/n” Gerard knew how bad your anxiety got, especially when you dreamt of your dad. Your dads suicide scarred you for your entire life, and messed up your emotions. Gerard knew. Gerard goes through mental health issues just as much as you do, just he had a better family life as a teen. “Y/n, I love you.” You look up at him, paler than moonlight. “Really? Your not leaving me?” Gerard looked shocked. “What? Of course I’m not leaving you! Why would I?” You wipe your face with your arm. “My Dad said nobody would ever love me, that I was a waste of space, that I was weird and didn’t deserve what I have. I was afraid he was right. What if you were just dating me if someone told you too? Or if your just acting? I can get the thought out of my hea-“” Well get it out of there. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anybody. I’m not gunna leave you.” He smiled, “Your putting up with me for a while.”

You smiled and laid your head on his chest. He rested his forehead on the top of your head and kissed it. “Your father was a bad man y/n. He had something wrong with him. He was jacked in the head. Your stronger than you think.” He grabs your hand, interlocking fingers. “I love you more than any man ever will.” You both sat there, hand in hand, resting your heads on eachother. Then you head filled with thoughts again, but better ones this time.

Gerard loved you, and you loved him. Your dad was wrong about everything. You were happy with Gee, and he was happy with you. Life was good, even without a family. You had Gee, and that was good enough for you.

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

Omg I actually liked this one :D it was so short tho but again, I’m sorry it took so long. It took too long for a short imagine ouch :’) anywho I’ll try to be faster next time I’ve just had homework and I have to study and I have practice and competition and games so I will very much try to take less time next time :) also I just realized the reader doesn’t faint :( I’m sorry again I’m a mess. I hope it wasn’t something you were looking forward too :’( I made the character freaking vomit but I didn’t make them faint imsosorry

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ellebeebee · 7 years

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Part Two

Part One

Sooo, here’s part two of Dhorée and Silla’s story. I actually put them both out on the same day?? Woo me. Grand total of 7,716 words, lordy.

So I guess this goes way beyond a meme ask, I am just out of control lol.

3086 words, pairing: Corval!mc’s parents, general rating except for some language, character death warning

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, my dear?” the Empress smiled kindly.

Dhorée smiled back. “Yes, but you’ve always been in my thoughts, Your Majesty. You are so kind to invite me today.”

The Empress tutted playfully. “You are too much. Far too sweet. It will go straight to my head.”

Dhorée laughed lightly and gave her the expected compliment she was fishing for. There are no quarters in the palace (save perhaps the Emperor’s, but she’d never seen them) as splendid as the Empress’s. Teak and mahogany from Jiyel, Revairan tapestries and paintings, furs of monstrous Skaltan bears. The three-story vaults, and the marble trim carved so thin and intricate it resembled lingerie more than stone. An Arlish master craftsman had created an entire clerestory of stained glass that cast the most carefully choreographed dance of jewels of light across the floor.

But the most obvious, and the most alarming of the Empress’s sitting room’s attributes was the absence of any other soul.

No servants, no ladies, no miscellaneous hangers-ons. Not even behind the walls, in the crevices meant for intrigue. There were only the guards outside the door, Dhorée, and Her Majesty.

Dhorée had not prepared for this meeting. Another of the Empress’s household had run into her, just after dawn, in the medical records office. Dhorée had been cataloging her most recent requisitions for Lady Renn, and suddenly she’d seen this old acquaintance and was whisked away to “catch up” with Her Majesty. Only a handful of people knew where Dhorée had gone, and of these she could not be sure they weren’t already in her old master’s hand.

“But come,” the Empress stated. She plucked up a little bell sitting on the white jade table beside her and rang it. “It’s so early I must have taken you before you had a chance to eat.”

A servant instantly entered at the summons, carrying a tray of fragrant morning delicacies. They carefully and quietly put down the large silver tray, dotted with little silver bowls and plates, and backed away with a subservient bend to Her Majesty.

The foods were all expensive and of course exquisitely made, with not a few of Dhorée’s personal favorites.

The Empress smiled. “Don’t be shy, darling.”

And yet, the Empress did not move from her straight-postured, elegant seat. Generally, one never ate before Her Majesty. Unless bid to do so by her.

And how many times had Dhorée stood in this very room, during an entirely identical scene, while the Empress smiled and her eyes held yes I know you know but I am the one with power, absolute power. But she had always been the accomplice in those instances. Never the one sitting across from the Empress.

The silence began to buzz and whine tightly in her ears.

Dhorée shifted forward in her seat. She reached forward, and carefully selected a little quail egg soufflé. She slipped her fingers underneath the paper thin and lacey dish, lifting what seemed the weight of a dozen sacks of grain. She took one of the tiny forks meant for the dainty method of eating of noblewomen. She sliced open the soufflé and speared a good sized piece.

Dhorée stared in the Empress’s face as she put the morsel in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

She continued staring into the eyes of the palace’s mistress as she finished the soufflé.

The Empress smiled slow and broad. She leaned back and sighed in satisfaction. Letting out a girlish laugh, she said, “Oh, Dhorée. I have missed you so.”

Her Majesty waved carelessly at the lacquered box sitting beside Dhorée’s seat. “Look in there. It’s a present for you.”

Dhorée put down her plate, dabbed redundantly at her clean mouth, and reached for the indicated box. The latch popped open and within the velvety interior lay a heavy packet of thick papers. Dhorée glanced at the Empress. She nodded. Flipping through the papers, Dhorée read, finally, Her Majesty’s intention in summoning her.

Forty-six incidents of bribery, sixty incidents of corrupting the morals of imperial court officials, and almost two dozen incidents of wrongful harm and death of palace servants.

And, of course, several incidents which implicated Dhorée.

Dhorée carefully put the papers back into the box and closed it. She slid it onto the table silently. She looked at the Empress.

“Your Majesty is finally ready to be rid of Lady Renn,” Dhorée stated.

The Empress nodded. She bent forward and took a cup of tea from the silver serving tray. A little spoon chimed as she mixed sugar into her tea.

“That’s right,” Her Majesty said. “She’s overreached herself. And she’s proven without a doubt to be a drain on the empire, not a conduit of continuation. She’s only had the one miscarriage in two years. Even with your help. The politicians she’s gathered need to refocus on pleasing His Majesty. Not some foolish, greedy slattern parading herself as an imperial wife. Even the Emperor agrees with me now.”

The Empress delicately sipped at her tea. “I will say this for her: she’s herded all the traitorous scum in the court into one corral for me. Certainly makes my task easier.”

Dhorée calmly studied her old mistress. “And am I traitorous scum, Your Majesty?”

“You do get to the point, don’t you, dear?” the Empress chuckled.

She put down her cup. Her Majesty exhaled, crossing her legs and draping an arm across the back of her seat. She looked at Dhorée, her face flooded with self-satisfaction. A predator that had a perfect plan come to fruition.

“I am fond of you, Dhorée. You’ve always been a boon to me. And you’ve always known your place.”

The Empress smiled, playing idly with the many rings on one hand.

“I think you know what I want.”

Dhorée stared back.

She nodded. That was all. She nodded her head, and things were as they had been two years ago.

After all, in the imperial harem of Corval there were as many ladies as stars, but there was only one master.

“I need time,” Dhorée stated.

“So we’re negotiating,” the Empress said, delighted. “His Majesty doesn’t want this to become a circus. But I can’t stay patient forever. A month.”

“Three months. And Lord Silla comes out unscathed.”

Dhorée was done playing coy. She had no delusions that her affair with the lord was a well known secret.

The Empress’s slippered foot bobbed up and down, as if she was really thinking it over and hadn’t already counted on the demand.

“Fine,” Her Majesty stated. She smiled.

“It’s so lovely to have you back.”

Three months.

Truthfully, Dhorée did not need that much time. She could have it done that night. But if His Majesty was going to be kind enough to keep it from being a complete humiliation, well, Dhorée would fall in line.

And.

It gave her time to secure a safety net of her own. Dhorée had spent two years watching Lady Renn make mistake after mistake. There was one that she had no intention of replicating. And truthfully, she had long since thought this would be necessary.

That evening she paid off a guard to help her out the walls, as he’d done many times for her before. She walked through the dusty streets of the city, and stopped at the gate of Silla’s white stucco and walled mansion. She had a small conversation with the gatekeeper, and went on her way. She finally unlocked the little wooden door to the courtyard of a small house in a quiet middle class neighborhood. Dhorée fell asleep in the bedroom she’d intermittently carried on her relationship with Silla in.

He woke her, in the dark hours that were so familiar to them, with tender hands and a gentle mouth.

She accepted it all, and, it must be said, did not feel a bit of guilt.

They’d both known from the beginning what this would be.

When she returned to the palace the next day, Dhorée did not take the tincture meant to prevent pregnancy. Even with it, she’d had to prevent two pregnancies from progressing.

She had three months.

Some weeks later, rumours abounded throughout the court about Lady Renn’s strange behavior. She had refused His Majesty’s summons several times, had become exceptionally quick to lash out at her servants, and was reported to have burst into tears at many a social gathering.

This went on for two months before Her Majesty, fearing for the lady’s health, sent Lady Renn to the imperial estate on the outskirts of the city to recover quietly. Lady Renn took with her a reduced household, many of whom were new appointments entirely. Excellent servants all, provided by the Empress herself.

Two weeks later the lady did not seem to improve at all, despite the best efforts of imperial physicians and her own apothecary.

Dhorée had confirmed it that morning.

She left the tidy little room she’d been using in the country estate. The hall was only just starting to echo with the footsteps of servants again after the afternoon rest period. In her hand she clutched the handle of her mixing kit. She quietly tread her way through slightly steamy halls toward Lady Renn’s quarters.

The lady was awake, lying in bed and half-propped up by pillows and surrounded by old medicinal flasks and wine bottles. The air was rank with old linens and heat. Lady Renn’s hairline shone with sweat, and her bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the lightly shifting silk hangings of her bed’s canopy. In the time of her illness, she had broken out in hives and blemishes across her face and body, and she had gained weight from emotional eating. As Dhorée came in, Lady Renn jumped, and then relaxed as she saw who it was. She licked her overbitten lips.

“Dhorée,” she said. Her voice was the much the same. Not weak, but wavery and uncertain. “I feel terrible. Can you give me something for sleep?”

Dhorée did not reply. Instead, she settled in at the seat beside the bed. She placed her kit on a side table and popped it open. Silently, she began pulling out little glass bottles and a pestle and mortar.

“You can all go,” Dhorée announced to the room.

The ever-present, yet ever-invisible, servants bobbed as one to the apothecary. They slipped out the door without further discussion.

Lady Renn did not seem to even register their exit. “Did I tell you about the horrible dreams I’ve been having? Can you do something about that? I need a deeper sleep.”

Dhorée continued her work, pouring different portions of powders and dry solids into a dish.

“One of those silly chamber girls mentioned something about His Majesty visiting. Do you think it’s true? I haven’t heard any news in…” The lady frowned. “I haven’t heard anything in forever.”

Dhorée crushed her mixture with the pestle into a finer texture.

“I really just want to sleep,” Lady Renn said softly.

Dhorée finally whisked a dark liquid into the powder. She carefully kept her fingers clean of the lead-stopped bottle containing that viscous pitch-colored syrup. The thick paste-like substance that resulted got scraped into a glass wine goblet.

Lady Renn finally seemed to produce some interest in what she was doing. She frowned.

“That’s not what it usually looks like.”

Silently, Dhorée reached for a half-empty bottle of wine. She poured out enough to loosen the mixture in its goblet. She stared at for a moment, and then finally turned to Lady Renn. She replaced the goblet on the side table, and slid it toward her. The lady looked at it, then back at Dhorée.

“Will this help?” Lady Renn asked.

“No,” Dhorée stated. Her face had settled into a cool set, dispassionate and composed. “This isn’t going to help you at all.”

Renn’s brow wrinkled in confusion. Her yellowed eyes squinted at the apothecary. “I don’t understand.”

Dhorée tapped a finger against the tabletop, toward the goblet. She stared Renn down.

“This,” she said quietly and clearly, “is because Her Majesty is done with you.”

Renn’s eyes expanded in fear, the papery lids fluttering in instinctive fear. “What--”

“In her benevolence, she has given you this chance to go quietly,” Dhorée said. “I suggest you take it. No one will help you. Everyone here belongs to her.”

Renn’s lips opened and closed, working to no end. Tears started to leak from her eyes. She shook her head, mumbled no several times. Dhorée watched her without comment.

“I don’t understand,” Renn gasped. “I thought…”

When Renn stopped and merely stared at her in bewilderment, Dhorée began packing away her things.

“I thought we were friends,” Renn said pathetically.

Dhorée froze. She put down the bottle she’d been holding. Her jaw shifting, she stared at the lady.

“Friends,” Dhorée stated. She leaned in toward Renn, who drew up her shoulders defensively. “You, the daughter of a man who shits gold. You, the woman who treated her underlings worse than a blind and lame dog.”

Dhorée shook her head slowly, her eyes hard. “You forget, my lady. I existed here at your side because the Empress willed it. I was never yours. You exist here at Her Majesty’s will. Don’t wear it out.”

The apothecary stood with her kit in hand.

“This way is easier,” Dhorée said.

She left, not sparing a single glance back.

They found her as night fell.

A messenger was sent on the estate’s fastest horse back into the city. A coterie of priests and bureaucrats came from the palace to prepare her for the return home. It was discussed and decided that they would wait until morning, and the lady was left under a thin white veil on her bed.

Her brother was informed, and he arrived some time after midnight.

Silla stood in Dhorée’s doorway, wearing his traveling clothes and a staid expression. She stood aside, and he entered quietly.

They looked at each other, both barely defined by Dhorée’s few candles. Silla had nothing in his face.

“I’m pregnant,” Dhorée stated.

He blinked. And then he nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” As if it wasn’t news to him at all.

He continued, “I expected it, really. Not just that. All of this. They’ve already decided the facts in the city: suicide.”

He sighed. “Well, it really was decided a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

Dhorée stood straight and quiet, looking him in the eye. “You really did always think this was going to be the end. Why did you sleep with me?”

Silla blinked slowly, interminably slowly. “I love you.”

Dhorée nodded. “Yes, I know.” And it wasn’t news to her at all.

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“No. It isn’t.”

Silla did escape the aftermath of Lady Renn’s demise unscathed, but he was sent on several assignments and postings far from home which dragged on for years. He and Dhorée saw little of each other afterward.

To reward her apothecary, the Empress chose one of the court members involved in Renn’s crimes and fated to a quiet, unseen end. She hid the extent of his guilt, wed Dhorée to him, and had him disposed of away from the gossip of court. The apothecary received a full noble title from her dead husband and a permanent seat by the Empress’s side.

Dhorée had a pretty baby girl. The child became the Empress’s darling, having no daughters of her own.

The ex-apothecary surprised herself. If, at first she had exerted all her body’s strength to bring her daughter into the world, only to find herself empty of real feeling and attachment, the years revealed the inexorable growth of her love for the girl. It came on in innocuous moments (the scent of her hair, the sight of her small hands) and hit Dhorée like a ton.

What was a means to an end, subtly and fully became her life’s meaning.

Twenty years after Lady Renn’s death, the Empress was deciding who would make up Corval’s delegation to the next summit.

Her Majesty had summoned Lady Dhorée, and the lady entered the Empress’s bedchamber with maids curtsying all around. Her Majesty sat at her vanity looking over lists and profiles as a servant girl brushed through her long, full hair. There were broadening streaks of gray amongst the dark strands now, but the Empress wore it well.

Lady Dhorée gestured at the maid and took the brush from her. She continued the work, Her Majesty barely acknowledging her presence. The lady made small comments as the Empress mused aloud over the options.

During a lapse in the conversation, Lady Dhorée sank the fine horsehair bristles into the hair in her hand and gently pulled the brush through. She gazed, dark-eyed, into the Empress’s reflection.

“Your Majesty,” the lady said. “My own daughter has proven herself of late, hasn’t she.”

It was not a question. There could be no question, not after the way the girl excelled at every task presented to her.

The Empress finally glanced up into Lady Dhorée’s face in the mirror. The lady stopped brushing, meeting the older woman’s gaze.

Her Majesty smiled. “We shall see, dear.”

“You should reconsider,” the lady stated. She continued staring into reflected eyes.

The Empress made a little huff of disbelief, her smile going crooked. “And I think you should reconsider this line of address, Dhorée. Who do you think you are?”

Her Majesty swiveled around to grab at the brush.

Instantly, Dhorée snatched at the Empress’s wrist and dug her fingers into that fragile limb. The woman made a small gasp. Probably more surprised than anything that someone would dare.

Dhorée bent over her. “I think I am the one person you can’t threaten, Your Majesty. I know all your secrets.”

The Empress stared up at her, eyes broad and nose flaring. Her breath shuddered and she swallowed.

“Fine,” she spat. But the venom of her tone was ruined by a touch of fear. “She can go.”

Dhorée released her. They froze, staring at each other. Around them, the maids were trying their best to become forgotten statues, their own faces washed in fright. The Empress broke the stare, whirling back around to the mirror.

She exhaled shakily and gazed at Dhorée’s reflection.

“Do you think I like living this way?” the woman said, almost sounding vulnerable for once.

Lady Dhorée resettled herself, and continued brushing the Empress’s hair.

“I don’t think anything at all, Your Majesty.”

#7kpp #corval!mc #gaslighting tw #suicide mention tw #character death tw #my writing #fanfiction #I really need to start uploading to AO3 and organizing my writing #next project maybe #i'm sorry if this seems roughly editing because it totally is #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#*edited

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